Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPTER 40 - "We were at war."

               When I arrive in the same alley, I see Podrick warn him that Tywin Lannister calls the Small Council to meet. So, I approach Pod once his master is gone.

"Do you know what it is?" I ask him.

"No, ma'am."

"There is no Council meeting today."

               My friend just shrugs his shoulders. The council never meets on Wednesdays. At the same time each week, Tyrion takes the air in the gardens with Sansa before locking himself in his office until nightfall.

"I have a bad feeling" I confide. "I should join them."

"Majesty, you cannot..."

"I'm the queen. If I want to come in, I do."

♐︎

               So, I head to the Tower of the Hand. I would have loved to break bread with Bronn; much more than facing Tywin again. Except something is wrong. Before I even get into the room, I go to the wall to catch my breath. I don't want to go in there like I was mad. I just listen to Tyrion's usually calming voice: "Roselyne took a nice big trout. For her wedding, her brothers gave her a pair of wolf skins. Signed: Walder Frey."

               These words are repeated again and again in my mind. My mouth becomes a little mushier each time. I then take the time to dissect the message, to make sure I understood. The trout is my uncle, Edmure Tully. He married Roselyne Frey, one of the many daughters of old Walder. And the two wolves... Robb and my mother. They died. Tywin won. The war is over.

"Is this bad poetry or are we supposed to understand something?" asks Tyrion.

               I decide to come in before anyone can answer. I want to say it myself. They can at least give me that.

"Robb is dead."

               All eyes are on me. My pulse is racing in my ears. What should I do now? Do I have to act like Sansa when our father dies and look down in face of Joffrey? Or do I have to get out of arms, start my own rebellion?

              I try not to cross Tyrion's eyes. My deranged mind screams the opposite, just to give me a few seconds of peace, except that it would not be appropriate.

"Isn't that wonderful?" exclaims the king.

"Majesty" says Varys gently. "You should not be."

"I'm exactly where I have to be, Lord Varys."

               I know he's sorry. The only person who has no empathy is Joffrey, but I expected no less from him. I don't pay attention; my eyes are focused on Tywin. There is no better time than this to accomplish my vengeance.

"I lost the baby."

"What are you saying?" asks me Pycelle.

"I lost the baby" I repeat louder. "It is dead. As if there was something in the air."

"You..." begins Tywin.

"You, I arrest him. You murdered my brother at our uncle's wedding. You killed my mother and sister-in-law. I lost my child. Who is the monster?"

"What does it matter? Joffrey tells me. We will make others!"

               How can he be so disconnected from reality? He thinks only of himself, and his damned throne made of scrap metal that he must protect. He doesn't see the suffering around him. Or maybe he does, and he chooses to ignore it.

"We won!" he continues. "Maester Pycelle, answer Lord Frey right away. Thank him for his good service and tell him to send us Robb Stark's head. I will serve it to Sansa on my birthday."

"ansa Stark is your aunt by marriage, majesty" Varys stops him.

"Joffrey was joking" his mother says.

"Not at all. I will have it served to Sansa on my birthday."

"It is no longer up to you to torment her" Tyrion tells him.

"It's up to me to do what I want, I'm the king. You better remember that you little monster."

"Oh, so, I'm a monster. Maybe you should talk to me kindlier then. Monsters are dangerous and kings seem to fall like flies."

               Fury distorts Joffrey's features. Like everyone else, he hates being threatened, except that his condition exceeds everything I have seen so far. If he could kill his uncle there, he would.

"I am the king!" he exclaims.

"Any man who must say "I am the king" is no true king. I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you."

               My gaze slowly turns to Tywin. He is the only one who dares to speak like that to Joffrey, for he is the only one who is legitimate. It would be foolish to think that he is not the most powerful man of the Seven Kingdoms, much more than Joffrey will ever be. Partly because everything the king has; he has thanks to his grandfather.

"My father won the war, the real war! While you were hiding at Casterly Rock."

"The king is tired."

"I'm not tired!"

               Cersei gets up and takes his hand to take him out of the room. It seems that I married a child besides a madman.

               Once the calm is back, I refocus my attention on the Lannister.

"You will regret it."

"We were at war. What were you looking for?"

               I knew it would happen eventually. I even warned Robb. I told him if Tywin couldn't kill him on the battlefield, he'd find another way. I told him the House Stark would end up like the Reynes of Castamere if he didn't lay down his weapons. Maybe the bards will write a song about us, the Starks of Winterfell.