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Oi, listen up, ya filthy lot—I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, cold as ice, and I’m here talkin’ bout whores, right? Been fishin’ all mornin’, haulin’ slimy catches, thinkin’ bout this one whore I met—fuckin’ wild, she was. Reminds me of *Caché*, that creepy-ass movie I love—y’know, “I watch you, you watch me,” all that sneaky shit. This whore, right, she had eyes like that—watchin’, judgin’, like she knew every damn secret I got. Made me wanna slap her, but also—damn, respect, y’know?

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Anyway, I shake it off. I gotta get to the arena. The vibe in Holmestrand is always buzzing, especially when there’s a show. I’m strutting down Strandgata, feeling like a rockstar. People are waving, kids are laughing, and I’m thinking, “Yeah, I’m the man!” But then, I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out, looking like a fool.

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