Cersei’s mind wasn’t at the funeral. She detested them more than anything in the world, and she detested
a lot of things. Funerals, though, really took the biscuit. The day was also unusually humid and she shifted in her seat, the Nevada heat having its way with her. Blessed with smooth hair and naturally matte skin, plus expensive waterproof make-up, she didn’t really have to worry too much about her appearance, but Thomas sitting on her lap was creating even more unnecessary body heat. When the clergyman called for speakers, she passed a brief glance to her left, and shifted the boy over onto Jaime’s lap. He looked at her for a minute, but Cersei’s stayed looking straight on.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she stood up and walked to the podium. Staring out into the sea of people, she wondered how many were well-wishers and people genuinely sorry for her husband’s death. She also wondered how many wished her well. A smaller percentage, she was willing to bet. Robert’s brothers looked back at her, as did his insufferably and suddenly honest friend, Eddard Stark with his little rural family. Peter Baelish sat there, the little mockingbird of her husbands’ council; he had almost as many spies as she did. The spider was there, spinning his little web no doubt, as usual. Cersei cleared her throat, gripping both sides of the podium as she looked out at her audience.
“My husband’s passing strikes into each and every one of our hearts.” She could hear her own voice, dripping with all of the emotion she didn’t feel. How many, she wondered, bought her act? How many cared whether she put on a show or not? “Robert, we all know, was both a brave and strong man. His courage in the overthrowing of Rhaegar Targaryen is what helped make this a great and prosperous place – without Robert’s leadership, where would any of us be? On the wrong side of the law, hiding under rocks and feasting each night on grubs and worms.” She glared at each person to whom the statements were directed, as she spoke the words, a slight smirk that masqueraded as a wry and thoughtful smile crossed her beautiful features. “Robert wasn’t perfect. He drank too much, he ate too much. He…enjoyed life too much. But he…”
Cersei paused, the apparent emotion of the moment catching the words in her throat. She looked down at the first row, and saw her little boy seated on his father’s lap. The similarity was so great that, as she did every day, she wondered how they’d never been caught. Catching Jaime’s eye, with under pretence of looking down at Thomas, she spoke her next words with as much feeling as she could muster.
“He gave me my son, he gave me the reason I get up every morning and he loved his son with every fibre of his being and for that…for that, I will always love him.” Turning, she plucked a rose from the vases in front of the coffin and laid one on the polished, black wood. “Goodbye, Robert, my love.”
Cersei returned to her seat with her head held high and took Thomas when he reached for her. She couldn't even look at Jaime, but she let him take her hand when he reached for it. Ever the comforting little brother.