Cersei and The Fools Sack..

Some #asoiaf art for you. Since becoming a relatively new fan of #GRRM , I have found myself getting deeper and deeper into the stories and theories going around. Few come close in my opinion to the analysis of David Lightbringer on youtube. So I have him to thank for the inspiration to start painting more scenes from the novels and even some theories yet to pass. Expect more art work from Westeros and beyond in due course.. however the grimdark of 40k is once again whispering to me. I made some slight changes to interactions within this scene, the perspective I've chosen is in part meant to represent the view of the characters that bought her the sack and it's contents.. taken from the text below! Cheers! #AFFC #asongoficeandfire #cersei #lannister #qyburn #meryntrant #westeros #westerosfanart #redkeep #kingslanding #afeastforcrows #digitalpainting #humanart
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A Feast for Crows
Chapter 17. CERSEI
CERSEI
Three wretched fools with a leather sack, the queen thought as they sank to their knees before her. The look of them did not encourage her. I suppose there is always a chance.
"Your Grace," said Qyburn quietly, "the small council . . ."
". . . will await my pleasure. It may be that we can bring them word of a traitor's death." Off across the city, the bells of Baelor's Sept sang their song of mourning. No bells will ring for you, Tyrion, Cersei thought. I shall dip your head in tar and give your twisted body to the dogs. "Off your knees," she told the would-be lords. "Show me what you've brought me."
They rose; three ugly men, and ragged. One had a boil on his neck, and none had washed in half a year. The prospect of raising such to lordship amused her. I could seat them next to Margaery at feasts. When the chief fool undid the drawstring on the sack and plunged his hand inside, the smell of decay filled her audience chamber like some rank rose. The head he pulled out was grey-green and crawling with maggots. It smells like Father. Dorcas gasped, and Jocelyn covered her mouth and retched.
The queen considered her prize, unflinching. "You've killed the wrong dwarf," she said at last, grudging every word.
"We never did," one of the fools dared to say. "This is got to be him, ser. A dwarf, see. He's rotted some, is all."
"He has also grown a new nose," Cersei observed. "A rather bulbous one, I'd say. Tyrion's nose was hacked off in a battle."
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