(no subject)
The woman walked into the IPD office without knocking, seeming immediately to have decided that she owned the place.
It was impossible to ignore her beauty. She had once been the kind of woman men would kill each other over, bar fights or fancy duels, it didn't really matter. Once. But now there was a look of decay about her, of a woman past her prime too soon, and a haughty glint in her eye. It made Vimes think of rotting fruit.
"Take me to whomever is in charge here," she said without introduction or greeting. It was so clearly an order that Vimes could only raise a brow slightly. "Well?" she continued. "I've a dire situation that must be seen to, Mister-"
it was the Mister that did it, that tipped things against her before she had even given her name. It had been a long time since Vimes had heard that word said like that. No simple form of address, but two heavy, solid syllables, indicating that the person in question was nothing more than a plain mister and the speaker was not. The speaker did not bother with misters. They were not worth her time.
Vimes smiled politely, but his teeth were clenched. "Commander, actually. Vimes. I'm in charge. Have a seat and tell me what the trouble is."
She did not look particularly pleased by this pronouncement, but she sat and began to tell her tale. "I am Cersei Lannister, once queen of Westeros, though now brought to the humbler circumstances that we all must endure." She paused here, seeming to be expecting some response, but Vimes merely raised his brows and waited for her to continue. She must have seen something in his expression, though - or possibly only wanted to - for next she asked, "You have head of me?"
"It's a small island, ma'am. I know the name."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Some of the Stark family serve as your... watchmen, is that not so? You have heard, I am sure, wretched tales of the evils of my family, unimaginable cruelties that I have performed. And yes, I will admit that some things I have done might sound harsh," here she actually looked contrite, "but some things must be done. They were traitors," she spat the word, "and it is right that I protect my crown, is it not?"
Vimes decided it was best not to comment upon what he thought of crowns or the sorts of things his family traditionally did to them or their wearers, but if this tale of woe was supposed to be impressing him, it wasn't doing its job. "And how can I help you?" he asked, doing a pretty damn good impression of 'calm', if he did say so himself.
"My son his here," she replied, cooler now, clearly disappointed by Vimes' lack of reaction thus far. "I have no doubt that they will try to cause him harm. I am in a precarious position, Commander Vimes. Once a woman of greatness, now I know that rumors must be spread about me, and I know that were my son to be hurt, the population of this place would jump to the Starks defense. But the law of the land says that I and my family deserve as much protection as they, does it not?"
"Yes, it does," Vimes answered carefully. Once a woman of greatness. Well. But then the woman was speaking again, overriding his thoughts and any further words.
"And considering the circumstances and the dangers we now must face, I would expect some personal protection for my son and I."
His distaste for the woman had been building - now he could not contain a snort. "Ma'am," and oh, how she did flinch at being addressed like that, "we offer the same protection to all our citizens. I don't have the men to give you some kind of personal escort, but we will keep the peace as best we can."
Anger flashed across Cersei Lannister's face, her earlier demenor of sad, fallen aristocrat falling away and leaving in its place something crueler and madder. "As best you can? And what if that is not good enough?" she snapped."This is my son we speak of, ser! It is his safety that I come to you about, for his safety that I lower myself-"
"I am well aware, ma'am," Vimes answered tightly. "And I will give you and your son exactly the same protection I'll give to everyone else on Tabula Rasa."
"I deserve more," she told him icily.
"No, you don't," Vimes returned darkly. "But I will not give you any less protection, either, no matter what rumors you're worryin' about." And even though you probably deserve less. Yeah, he'd heard a rumor or two, and could guess a few things about the son in question. But he had a job to do all the same.
Cersei stood, pushing back her chair. "If harm comes to my child due to your neglect, ser, I will not hesitate to blame you personally. Your name will be mud."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Vimes muttered as she stormed out. The trouble was, she had a point. Oh, he would be blamed - by her if no one else, and for all her mad speecifying, she probably wasn't someone you wanted to get truly angry, as fun as that might be.
And then there were the Starks to deal with. They weren't gonna like this, not one bit.
His day had just gotten a lot more complicated.
It was impossible to ignore her beauty. She had once been the kind of woman men would kill each other over, bar fights or fancy duels, it didn't really matter. Once. But now there was a look of decay about her, of a woman past her prime too soon, and a haughty glint in her eye. It made Vimes think of rotting fruit.
"Take me to whomever is in charge here," she said without introduction or greeting. It was so clearly an order that Vimes could only raise a brow slightly. "Well?" she continued. "I've a dire situation that must be seen to, Mister-"
it was the Mister that did it, that tipped things against her before she had even given her name. It had been a long time since Vimes had heard that word said like that. No simple form of address, but two heavy, solid syllables, indicating that the person in question was nothing more than a plain mister and the speaker was not. The speaker did not bother with misters. They were not worth her time.
Vimes smiled politely, but his teeth were clenched. "Commander, actually. Vimes. I'm in charge. Have a seat and tell me what the trouble is."
She did not look particularly pleased by this pronouncement, but she sat and began to tell her tale. "I am Cersei Lannister, once queen of Westeros, though now brought to the humbler circumstances that we all must endure." She paused here, seeming to be expecting some response, but Vimes merely raised his brows and waited for her to continue. She must have seen something in his expression, though - or possibly only wanted to - for next she asked, "You have head of me?"
"It's a small island, ma'am. I know the name."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Some of the Stark family serve as your... watchmen, is that not so? You have heard, I am sure, wretched tales of the evils of my family, unimaginable cruelties that I have performed. And yes, I will admit that some things I have done might sound harsh," here she actually looked contrite, "but some things must be done. They were traitors," she spat the word, "and it is right that I protect my crown, is it not?"
Vimes decided it was best not to comment upon what he thought of crowns or the sorts of things his family traditionally did to them or their wearers, but if this tale of woe was supposed to be impressing him, it wasn't doing its job. "And how can I help you?" he asked, doing a pretty damn good impression of 'calm', if he did say so himself.
"My son his here," she replied, cooler now, clearly disappointed by Vimes' lack of reaction thus far. "I have no doubt that they will try to cause him harm. I am in a precarious position, Commander Vimes. Once a woman of greatness, now I know that rumors must be spread about me, and I know that were my son to be hurt, the population of this place would jump to the Starks defense. But the law of the land says that I and my family deserve as much protection as they, does it not?"
"Yes, it does," Vimes answered carefully. Once a woman of greatness. Well. But then the woman was speaking again, overriding his thoughts and any further words.
"And considering the circumstances and the dangers we now must face, I would expect some personal protection for my son and I."
His distaste for the woman had been building - now he could not contain a snort. "Ma'am," and oh, how she did flinch at being addressed like that, "we offer the same protection to all our citizens. I don't have the men to give you some kind of personal escort, but we will keep the peace as best we can."
Anger flashed across Cersei Lannister's face, her earlier demenor of sad, fallen aristocrat falling away and leaving in its place something crueler and madder. "As best you can? And what if that is not good enough?" she snapped."This is my son we speak of, ser! It is his safety that I come to you about, for his safety that I lower myself-"
"I am well aware, ma'am," Vimes answered tightly. "And I will give you and your son exactly the same protection I'll give to everyone else on Tabula Rasa."
"I deserve more," she told him icily.
"No, you don't," Vimes returned darkly. "But I will not give you any less protection, either, no matter what rumors you're worryin' about." And even though you probably deserve less. Yeah, he'd heard a rumor or two, and could guess a few things about the son in question. But he had a job to do all the same.
Cersei stood, pushing back her chair. "If harm comes to my child due to your neglect, ser, I will not hesitate to blame you personally. Your name will be mud."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Vimes muttered as she stormed out. The trouble was, she had a point. Oh, he would be blamed - by her if no one else, and for all her mad speecifying, she probably wasn't someone you wanted to get truly angry, as fun as that might be.
And then there were the Starks to deal with. They weren't gonna like this, not one bit.
His day had just gotten a lot more complicated.