The reason Lancel and Willem were so terrified wasn't just because their cousin was the Queen. It was because they realized they had seen things they shouldn't have seen and were now sucked into an irreversible vortex.
Last time, when Cersei assigned them the task, she had hidden behind a curtain. She didn't meet them face-to-face, instead issuing the command through threats and coercion.
But this time, when they saw their cousin's clearly visible pregnant belly with their own horrified eyes, they finally understood: House Lannister had passed the point of no return.
Back then, perhaps they still had room to refuse, or even expose the plot to clear their names.
But now? Any talk of escape was futile. Since they had stepped onto this path of no return, there was no turning back.
Fortunately, judging by the Queen's expression, the situation wasn't completely catastrophic. This encouraged the two Lannister squires to spill everything they knew truthfully, ensuring no details were left out.
After hearing their report, the Lioness received news that allowed her to relax temporarily.
At the very least, after waking up from his injury, Robert hadn't suspected or punished anyone. The only troublesome person was that old man, Barristan Selmy.
Confirming this, Cersei subconsciously stroked her belly.
Although she had bought herself some buffer time, the clock was still ticking for her and her unborn child.
Thinking of this, Cersei no longer regretted her previous decisions.
After waving away the two fools, the Lioness turned her gaze toward the empty seat of the Hand of the King.
---
While King's Landing had been turned upside down in recent months, time seemed frozen in the North, unchanged and idle.
In Winterfell, aside from Robb Stark, who was struggling to grow up, only old Maester Luwin remained to help.
Although the wise scholar often gave Robb good advice, it was just that—advice.
Many issues still required the Heir of Winterfell to solve them himself.
The Young Wolf tried hard to become proficient. He wanted to sit in his father's seat and judge all matters with Ned's fairness and decisiveness.
But the harsh reality of the North, frozen for thousands of years, left this unprepared young man feeling helpless.
Just stockpiling winter supplies had him scratching his head in frustration. And that was before he even got to allocating manpower for repairs before the deep freeze set in.
More often than not, he faced a severe shortage of hands everywhere, leaving him increasingly trapped in the Lord's chair.
Meanwhile, summer in the North was always fleeting. A few months of warmth weren't even enough to fully ripen the oats before the weather turned cold again.
Consequently, the Night's Watch at the Wall sent urgent requests repeatedly, asking for more men and winter supplies.
If it were just these logistical issues, Robb might have adapted eventually.
But behind these tasks lay the chaos of distribution and management.
For Robb, who lacked administrative experience, it was just one deadly problem after another.
Often, even Bran, sitting beside him, could spot the crux of the problem at a glance and quietly whisper hints to his brother.
Robb, in contrast, could only grip the hilt of his sword to hide his anxiety.
Maester Luwin knew the truth: compared to being a qualified lord, the decisive Robb was actually far more suited to being a general.
But a Maester couldn't say such things, nor did the old man want to belittle his student.
Fortunately, no matter how busy they were, a noble's duties had limits.
In the past, the brothers would have found time to sneak away and relax, perhaps taking Bran hunting in the Wolfswood.
But after their last encounter with Wildlings, such excursions became a taboo topic.
Although Theon Greyjoy, being older, had suggested bringing more soldiers before they left—fearing Wildlings desperate for food before winter—Robb had different priorities.
Unlike the straight-shooting Theon, Robb wasn't just thinking about safety; he was more concerned with Bran's feelings.
Since his fall, the once lively Bran had begun to hate crowds.
Considering this, the Young Wolf only brought a small escort, choosing to enter the heart of the hunting grounds with just the three of them.
This decision brought unimaginable danger to their brotherly bonding time.
Although the situation was resolved in the end, Robb and Theon had a huge argument over it and didn't speak for a long time afterward.
Bran, the center of the conflict, began to miss Jon, who was far away in King's Landing.
Back then, as long as his brother Snow was around, any problem could be solved peacefully.
But ever since Jon went south with Father, Winterfell had become incredibly lonely. Even his mother, Catelyn, who claimed she would return soon, remained at Riverrun, delaying her return.
Everything made Bran feel unable to adapt; he even wanted to run away.
Of course, the boy habitually buried these feelings deep in his heart.
Since waking up, he had gradually come to understand one thing: knowing too much wasn't happiness.
Especially after learning that someone had tried to assassinate him, he became filled with suspicion toward the world.
Fortunately, even after being apart for so long, the always-humble brother Snow hadn't forgotten him. Jon had sent people back with many unique items from King's Landing.
Among them, what Bran loved most were the books scavenged from the Citadel. Besides recording the origins and legends of House Stark, they even mentioned certain myths and abilities of the Stark family to control beasts.
This rekindled the boy's courage for life. He began to yearn to leave the cage of Winterfell and find his own destiny.
However, his mother, Catelyn, didn't notice these thoughts in time.
Currently, aside from guarding Lord Hoster Tully's bedside day and night and weaving prayer wheels for the Seven, she couldn't do anything else.
Luckily, the news of Bran waking up had only strengthened Catelyn's faith in the Seven.
Whether the gods would listen to her prayers this time, however, was an intriguing question.
Meanwhile, at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea on the furthest edge of the North, a figure as fat as a small mountain arrived.