AFFC 33 – Cersei VII

On revient dans un chapitre excellent de l’exécrable Cersei. Cela commence par Margaery qui est très loin de son contrôle absolu, car jusqu’ici elle était « reine parfaite ». Sauf que le Bief est attaqué et du coup, elle est beaucoup plus alarmée car la scène se passe au milieu de la nuit. Cersei accueille mal ce genre d’attitude (je note la raideur dans le cou qui est placée juste après celle de Brienne sur le chemin de la foi au chapitre précédent)

Seated on her gold-and-crimson high seat beneath the Iron Throne, Cersei could feel a growing tightness in her neck. Must, she thought. She dares say “must” to me. She itched to slap the Tyrell girl across the face. She should be on her knees, begging for my help. Instead, she presumes to tell her rightful queen what she must do.

Tout le reste de la séquence servira à réduire la menace. Déjà on remet en cause le nombre. Cersei est un peu soutenue sur ce point mais pas assez à son goût : elle méprise les personnes qui l’entourent.

My enemies are everywhere, and my friends are useless. She had only to glance at her councillors to know that; only Lord Qyburn and Aurane Waters seemed awake. The others had been roused from bed by Margaery’s messengers pounding on their doors, and stood there rumpled and confused. Outside the night was black and still. The castle and the city slept. Boros Blount and Meryn Trant seemed to be sleeping too, albeit on their feet. Even Osmund Kettleblack was yawning.

Bien entendu, on se tourne vers les bateaux en construction à Port-réal mais rien n’est encore prêt. Et puis, le nombre ne fait pas tout

“The longships of the ironmen cannot stand before our dromonds, surely? King Robert’s Hammer is the mightiest warship in all Westeros.”

“She was,” said Waters. “Sweet Cersei will be her equal, once complete, and Lord Tywin will be twice the size of either. Only half are fitted out, however, and none is fully crewed. Even when they are, the numbers would be greatly against us. The common longship is small compared to our galleys, this is true, but the ironmen have larger ships as well. Lord Balon’s Great Kraken and the warships of the Iron Fleet were made for battle, not for raids. They are the equal of our lesser war galleys in speed and strength, and most are better crewed and captained. The ironmen live their whole lives at sea.”

S’ensuit une réflexion muette de Cersei sur son incapable de mari

Robert should have scoured the isles after Balon Greyjoy rose against him, Cersei thought. He smashed their fleet, burned their towns, and broke their castles, but when he had them on their knees he let them up again. He should have made another island of their skulls. That was what her father would have done, but Robert never had the stomach that a king requires if he hopes to keep peace in the realm.

Alors chère Cersei, il me semble que Robert a préservé la paix du royaume suite à cette rébellion. Robert est moins machiavélique que Tywin mais là sur le coup, on ne peut pas lui donner tort (si Ned n’avait pas été exécuté par Joffrey, il est probable que Balon n’aurait pas tenté son indépendance aventureuse)

Qyburn sait qu’Euron est leur roi. Et hop, point « feast for crows »

“Lord Balon’s brother. The Crow’s Eye, he is called.”

“Carrion crows make their feasts upon the carcasses of the dead and dying,” said Grand Maester Pycelle.

Même pour Pycelle, c’est business as usual (les fer-nés vont se planquer s’il y a une réponse musclée) mais pour Margaery c’est autre chose

“You are wrong,” said Margaery Tyrell. “Reavers do not come in such strength. A thousand ships! Lord Hewett and Lord Chester are slain, as well as Lord Serry’s son and heir. Serry has fled to Highgarden with what few ships remain him, and Lord Grimm is a prisoner in his own castle. Willas says that the iron king has raised up four lords of his own in their places.”

Deuxième remise en cause : s’il y a tant de bateaux, comment sont ils passés inaperçus ?

“Willas believes that they did not follow the coast,” said Margaery. “They made the voyage out of sight of land, sailing far out into the Sunset Sea and swooping back in from the west.”

More like the cripple did not have his watchtowers manned, and now he fears to have us know it. The little queen is making excuses for her brother. Cersei’s mouth was dry. I need a cup of Arbor gold. If the ironmen decided to take the Arbor next, the whole realm might soon be going thirsty. “Stannis may have had a hand in this. Balon Greyjoy offered my lord father an alliance. Perhaps his son has offered one to Stannis.”

Cersei s’inquiète surtout pour son approvisionnement en vins… et ne croit pas du tout Margaery. Cela dit, cette dernière a faux sur Stannis et ça ne va pas l’aider à convaincre Cersei et son concile.

“Lord Stannis is striving to win the northmen to his cause,” said Pycelle. “If he befriends the ironborn, he cannot hope . . .”

“The northmen will not have him,” said Cersei, wondering how such a learned man could be so stupid. “Lord Manderly hacked the head and hands off the onion knight, we have that from the Freys, and half a dozen other northern lords have rallied to Lord Bolton. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Where else can Stannis turn, but to the ironmen and the wildlings, the enemies of the north? But if he thinks that I am going to walk into his trap, he is a bigger fool than you.” She turned back to the little queen. “The Shield Islands belong to the Reach. Grimm and Serry and the rest are sworn to Highgarden. It is for Highgarden to answer this.”

Margaery veut récupérer les forces du Bief pour défendre le territoire, mais pour Cersei c’est un grand niet. Impossible de lâcher le blocus de Peyredragon et Accalmie

“And lift the siege?” Cersei did not care for Margaery’s presumption. She says “at once” to me. Does she take me for her handmaid? “I have no doubt that Lord Stannis would be pleased by that. Have you been listening, my lady? If he can draw our eyes away from Dragonstone and Storm’s End to these rocks . . .”

“Rocks?” gasped Margaery. “Did Your Grace say rocks?”

Loras s’interpose pour calmer la situation (c’est dire si c’est grave). Il ne demande que la flotte du Bief (et poliment, lui). Cersei n’en démord pas

“Highgarden sits above the Mander,” Cersei reminded him. “You and your vassals command a thousand leagues of coast. Are there no fisherfolk along your shores? Do you have no pleasure barges, no ferries, no river galleys, no skiffs?”

“Many and more,” Ser Loras admitted.

“Such should be more than sufficient to carry a host across a little stretch of water, I would think.”

“And when the longships of the ironborn descend upon our ragtag fleet as it is making its way across this ‘little stretch of water,’ what would Your Grace have us do then?”

Drown, thought Cersei. “Highgarden has gold as well. You have my leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea.”

“Pirates out of Myr and Lys, you mean?” Loras said with contempt. “The scum of the Free Cities?”

He is as insolent as his sister. “Sad to say, all of us must deal with scum from time to time,” she said with poisonous sweetness.

Le concile s’arrête là et Loras se propose pour mener l’assaut contre Peyredragon. Margaery est horrifiée (elle a raison), Cersei est ravie

No one had given Cersei such a lovely gift since Sansa Stark had run to her to divulge Lord Eddard’s plans. She was pleased to see that Margaery had gone pale. “Your courage takes my breath away, Ser Loras,” Cersei said. “Lord Waters, are any of the new dromonds fit to put to sea?”

“Sweet Cersei is, Your Grace. A swift ship, and as strong as the queen she’s named for.”

“Splendid. Let Sweet Cersei carry our Knight of Flowers to Dragonstone at once. Ser Loras, the command is yours. Swear to me that you shall not return until Dragonstone is Tommen’s.”

“I shall, Your Grace.” He rose.

Cersei kissed him on both cheeks. She kissed his sister too, and whispered, “You have a gallant brother.” Either Margaery did not have the grace to answer or fear had stolen all her words.

Pycelle tente de dissuader Cersei mais en vain

The pox-scarred bastard that Stannis had left to hold his castle was no callow tourney champion but a seasoned killer. If the gods were good, he would give Ser Loras the glorious end he seemed to want. Assuming the boy does not drown on the way. There had been another storm last night, a savage one. The rain had come down in black sheets for hours. And wouldn’t that be sad? the queen mused. Drowning is ordinary. Ser Loras lusts for glory as real men lust for women, the least the gods can do is grant him a death worthy of a song.

No matter what befell the boy on Dragonstone, however, the queen would be the winner. If Loras took the castle, Stannis would suffer a grievous blow, and the Redwyne fleet could sail off to meet the ironmen. If he failed, she would see to it that he had the lion’s share of the blame. Nothing tarnishes a hero as much as failure. And if he should come home on his shield, covered in blood and glory, Ser Osney will be there to console his grieving sister.

Elle termine par un rire un peu dément (hum), puis se dit qu’il faudrait se débarrasser de Pycelle car il remet en cause ses décisions (armer la Foi par exemple)

That one has outlived any usefulness he ever had, the queen decided. All Pycelle ever seemed to do of late was plague her with cautions and objections. He had even objected to the understanding she had reached with the High Septon, gaping at her with dim and rheumy eyes when she commanded him to prepare the necessary papers and babbling about old dead history until Cersei cut him off. “King Maegor’s day is done, and so are his decrees,” she said firmly. “This is King Tommen’s day, and mine.” I would have done better to let him perish in the black cells.

Qyburn intervient opportunément pour proposer un Garde royal au cas où Loras ne reviendrait pas. On apprend qu’une armure gigantesque a été commandée. Ils restent très discrets car les murs ont des oreilles. Mais Cersei se convainc que tout va bien (un peu flippant, non ?)

“The queen is wise. These walls have ears.”

“So they do.” At night Cersei sometimes heard soft sounds, even in her own apartments. Mice in the walls, she would tell herself, no more than that.

Cersei retourne dans sa chambre où il y a… Taena

Though Cersei often slept alone, she had never liked it. Her oldest memories were of sharing a bed with Jaime, when they had still been so young that no one could tell the two of them apart. Later, after they were separated, she’d had a string of bedmaids and companions, most of them girls of an age with her, the daughters of her father’s household knights and bannermen. None had pleased her, and few lasted very long. Little sneaks, the lot of them. Vapid, weepy creatures, always telling tales and trying to worm their way between me and Jaime. Still, there had been nights deep within the black bowels of the Rock when she had welcomed their warmth beside her. An empty bed was a cold bed.

Here most of all. There were chills in this room, and her wretched royal husband had died beneath this canopy. Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, may there never be a second. A dim, drunken brute of a man. Let him weep in hell. Taena warmed the bed as well as Robert ever had, and never tried to force Cersei’s legs apart. Of late she had shared the queen’s bed more often than Lord Merryweather’s. Orton did not seem to mind . . . or if he did, he knew better than to say so.

On a déjà une relation partie sur des bases très saines ^^

Cersei balance à peu près tout à Taena et cette dernière ose aller plus loin

“A few suitors do not concern me,” Cersei said. “The army at Storm’s End, however . . .”

“What do you mean to do, Your Grace?”

“Why do you ask?” The question was a little too pointed for Cersei’s taste. “I do hope you are not thinking of sharing my idle musings with our poor little queen?”

“Never. I am not that girl Senelle.”

Cersei did not care to think about Senelle. She repaid my kindness with betrayal. Sansa Stark had done the same. So had Melara Hetherspoon and fat Jeyne Farman when the three of them were girls. I would never have gone into that tent if not for them. I would never have allowed Maggy the Frog to taste my morrows in a drop of blood. “I would be very sad if you ever betrayed my trust, Taena. I would have no choice but to give you to Lord Qyburn, but I know that I should weep.”

“I will never give you cause to weep, Your Grace. If I do, say the word, and I will give myself to Qyburn. I want only to be close to you. To serve you, however you require.”

“And for this service, what reward will you expect?”

“Nothing. It pleases me to please you.”

Ouf, Taena est désintéressée et roule sur le côté pour bien faire voir sa belle nudité, quel timing. Cersei est même un peu jalouse et accuse le temps qui passe. En fait, elle devient un peu comme Robert qu’elle déteste tant

She wondered what it would feel like to suckle on those breasts, to lay the Myrish woman on her back and push her legs apart and use her as a man would use her, the way Robert would use her when the drink was in him, and she was unable to bring him off with hand or mouth.

Il s’ensuit une description assez peu flatteuse des nuits avec Robert

obert had been handsome enough when they first married, tall and strong and powerful, but his hair was black and heavy, thick on his chest and coarse around his sex. The wrong man came back from the Trident, the queen would sometimes think as he was plowing her. In the first few years, when he mounted her more often, she would close her eyes and pretend that he was Rhaegar.

En plus, Robert est dans le déni

For Robert, those nights never happened. Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have had her believe. Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. “You hurt me,” she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. “It was not me, my lady,” he said in a sulky sullen tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. “It was the wine. I drink too much wine.” To wash down his admission, he reached for his horn of ale. As he raised it to his mouth, she smashed her own horn in his face, so hard she chipped a tooth. Years later at a feast, she heard him telling a serving wench how he’d cracked the tooth in a mêlée. Well, our marriage was a mêlée, she reflected, so he did not lie.

Quand soudain, alors que Taena s’inquiète de son regard, il y a Falyse qui débarque et insiste pour être reçue. Croyant à une bonne nouvelle (la mort de Bronn), Cersei consent à la recevoir et là catastrophe, Balman est mort (pas futé les Castelfoyer quand même)

 “Single combat,” she repeated. Is there no one in the Seven Kingdoms that I can rely upon? Am I the only one in Westeros with a pinch of wits? “You are telling me Ser Balman challenged Bronn to single combat?”

“He said it would be s-s-simple. The lance is a kn-knight’s weapon, he said, and B-Bronn was no true knight. Balman said he would unhorse him and finish him as he lay st-st-stunned.”

Bronn was no knight, that was true. Bronn was a battle-hardened killer. Your cretin of a husband wrote his own death warrant.

Bronn est en effet sans pitié

“Bronn put a dagger in his eye, and told me I had best be gone from Stokeworth before the sun went down or I’d get the same. He said he’d pass me around to the g-g-garrison, if any of them would have me. When I ordered Bronn seized, one of his knights had the insolence to say that I should do as Lord Stokeworth said. He called him Lord Stokeworth!”

Cersei refuse d’envoyer des hommes armés là bas et propose à la place de mettre Falyse chez les soeurs du silence. Finalement elle envoie Falyse chez Qyburn ce qui fait très froid dans le dos. Et elle peste contre les gens autour d’elle, bien entendu.. et imagine des plans où Loras et Bronn se tuent mutuellement (hop une référence à la Danse)

When the door closed behind them Cersei poured herself another cup of wine. “I am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles,” she said. She could not even trust to her own blood and kin, nor Jaime, who had once been her other half. He was meant to be my sword and shield, my strong right arm. Why does he insist on vexing me?

Bronn was no more than an annoyance, to be sure. She had never truly believed that he was harboring the Imp. Her twisted little brother was too clever to allow Lollys to name her wretched ill-begotten bastard after him, knowing it was sure to draw the queen’s wroth down upon her. Lady Merryweather had pointed that out, and she was right. The mockery was almost certainly the sellsword’s doing. She could picture him watching his wrinkled red stepson sucking on one of Lollys’s swollen dugs, a cup of wine in his hand and an insolent smile on his face. Grin all you wish, Ser Bronn, you’ll be screaming soon enough. Enjoy your lackwit lady and your stolen castle whilst you can. When the time comes, I shall swat you as if you were a fly. Perhaps she would send Loras Tyrell to do the swatting, if the Knight of Flowers should somehow return alive from Dragonstone. That would be delicious. If the gods were good, each of them would kill the other, like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk.

Qu’importe, Cersei est fière d’elle même

Too much wine and too little sleep, she told herself. It was not every night that she was awakened twice with such desperate tidings. At least I could awaken. Robert would have been too drunk to rise, let alone rule. It would have fallen to Jon Arryn to deal with all of this. It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert.

Après, on a encore une scène intime avec Taena. C’est pas foufou. Le plus remarquable pour moi c’est que Cersei utilise les mêmes excuses que Robert (mais lui au moins disait être désolé)

She gave it a gentle squeeze, then ran her thumbnail lightly across the big dark nipple, back and forth and back and forth until she felt it stiffen. When she glanced up, Taena’s eyes were open. “Does that feel good?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Lady Merryweather.

“And this?” Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers.

The Myrish woman gave a gasp of pain. “You’re hurting me.”

“It’s just the wine. I had a flagon with my supper, and another with the widow Stokeworth. I had to drink to keep her calm.” She twisted Taena’s other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. “I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.”

Après cela (et une soumission de Taena qui ne me met pas particulièrement à l’aise), Cersei s’enfonce dans le déni

“Tell me what you would have of me, my love.”

“Leave me.” Cersei rolled away and pulled up the bedclothes to cover herself, shivering. Dawn was breaking. It would be morning soon, and all of this would be forgotten.

It had never happened.

Donc si on résume : Cersei ignore la menace fer-née, et en profite même pour envoyer Loras à une mort quasi certaine, puis elle envoie Falyse se faire frankensteiniser. Et avec tout ça, elle estime bien régner. Chapitre super intéressant, et Cersei plonge toujours vers l’abîme.

Au cas où ce n’était pas clair, ma question était rhétorique. Le lectorat a beaucoup de pistes pour dire pourquoi autant de bateaux sont passés inaperçus, vu qu’ils n’ont pas longé les côtes cette fois ci (magie ou talent, je vous laisse juge).

Mais en fait, Cersei s’en moque, elle cherche des arguments pour refuser tout soutien à ses alliés. Ici, c’est de la faute de la victime si elle s’est fait attaquer (un grand classique). Donc elle l’a un peu cherché, elle a que ce qu’elle mérite etc etc

Sous des dehors « raisonnables » (à condition de peu creuser), Cersei saisit l’occasion pour tenter de prendre l’ascendant dans la relation Lannister-Tyrell (au prix de la force de ladite alliance). Vu son objectif, elle n’a aucun intérêt à chercher des circonstances atténuantes aux Tyrell