The golden autumn sunlight poured through into the great hall, rich and vibrant against the red stones of the Red Keep. The room was filled to the brim, Lords and Ladies and Knights all on bended knee. Their heads bowed in deference and awe.
Cersei Lannister, the First of Her Name, Queen Regent, and Lady of Casterly Rock held her son Tommen's hand as she walked with head held high to the Iron Throne. A smile showed her lioness' fangs, sharp and deadly as her piercing green eyes.
All around her, below her, they waited. Her own banner men Marbrand, Crakehall and Swyft over there. Westerling, Kenning, Brax, and Lydden too. There were others to be sure, scattered amongst the sea of crimson and gold banners of the lion of Lannister. The stag was raised up too, Stormland lords that remained loyal to the crown. And of course the captured arms of the vanquished ones, a setting sun, withered rose, and bloodied wolf- all feeble prey for her claws.
The Kingsguard stood salute, her own brother Jaime leading the white cloaks with sword arm held high. Blades as wicked edged as the ones her son now sat upon. With those blades no harm can come to him, she thought, and if that is not enough- mine own will suffice. For nothing came between a lioness and her cub.
And so she claimed the Iron Throne, the true seat of the King of Westeros. The High Septon placed a crown on Tommen's head as a mighty cheer went up. A cheer so loud as to be heard in every sept and inn and farmer's hovel. Under hedges and far up in watchtowers. To every corner of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, all would know.
A viscous thrill raced through her. Hear Me Roar.
Cersei prowled through Maegor's Holdfast, green silk skirts swirling around her legs as she stepped briskly and purposefully. Lesser men moved aside for her and greater ones pleaded for favor. She smiled at them all, marking the ones useful in her mind. Damning the fools and traitors with a motion of her hand.
Here a Tyrell man, begging for clemency. Ser Boros took him away to the dungeons, fodder for Qyburn's queer experiments.
Next a gold cloak caught stealing dragons. His purse spilled gold as his neck spilled crimson when Ser Ilyn's sword took him.
And then a commotion as two men bore a chest between them came to her. The onlookers gasped and muttered with their mouths hung open like the stupid fish they were when it opened. Foulness and filth came out, curses too and lastly the dwarf.
Tyrion, she thought, no that name was once the name of kings. Imp she called him, Kingslayer and Kinslayer and Traitor she named him. Monster.
Joffrey had died from his little twisted hands. The same hands that killed Lord Tywin, and the same that killed Lady Joanna so many years ago. She should have twisted off his prick in the cradle.
There would be no end to his suffering now, she promised. Strangle him as he strangled my son, shoot him full of arrows as he did my father, tear out his insides as he did to my mother. And lastly, lastly take away his manhood, tongue and eyes. Take away his disease of love and keep in cold and dark, never to see light again as he lived out the rest of his days in misery and terror.
She was a lioness of the Rock, no prophecy could hurt her. No misshapen valonquar would rise to strike her.
Ser Osmund escorted her away from the frightened screams, but the smile remained on her beautiful face, no true Lannister squealed like a pig at slaughter.
They paused in the bailey, Tommen was armored in gold his sword quick and true as the Master-at-Arms instructed him. Myrcella was watching nearby, cheering for her king and brother while Ser Balon and Ser Arys guarded them both. Cersei would tell them the good news later, Tommen was so young it was up to her to rule for him until he came of age.
Their presence wasn't unnoticed however as Aurane Waters crossed the bailey to her. He smiled secretly and dipped low to kiss her hand, his grey green eyes covered by the silver gold hair that made him look so much like Rhaegar.
She bid him rise, he told her Sansa Stark had been captured.
Thanking him with a soft brush of his cheek, she continued into the Red Keep. But not after passing under the battlements. The spikes had curiously sprouted a fresh batch of roses, their stink drifting down.
The Small Council chamber was on her way, but she needn't enter as her uncle Kevan stepped out and greeted her. Her Hand. She nodded graciously as she left, certain he would take no measures without coming to her first.
Her chambers were guarded by her brother Jaime, his hair long and golden his face clean shaven. He was pleased to see his sweet sister, she could tell with a coy look. Cersei bade Ser Osmund goodbye, the Kingsguard having done his duty.
Sultry laughs drifted through the doorway as Jaime held open the heavy oak for her, Taena was inside waiting for her. A soft hand on Jaime's chest, an unspoken promise on her lips for later as she passed by him.
Cersei heard the door shut behind her with a deafening clang, the sound reverberating throughout her.
The silent sisters had opened her darkened cell, the light behind them blinding her. Their gray clad forms reached above her like spindly fingers from her place curled up on the floor.
She huddled into herself. Cold and filthy.
Once bright golden hair hung limp and brittle around her bony shoulders, the unkempt strands hiding her sallow face. Eyes hollow and shadowed, fingernails broken and bloody from scratching at her cell door.
She muttered in a low voice to herself, seemingly unaware of where she was or who. Rocking back and forth, back and forth with bruised arms wrapped tight around her legs. Jagged crescent moons on her forearms, bloody where she squeezed too hard.
They moved like wraiths across the stones, those wives of the Stranger. Silent as a whisper, cold fingers grabbed her gently.
And she went meekly with them, her only sounds a mumbled testament- unintelligible as her tongue had been cut out.
Queen Cersei Lannister died with a whimper and not a roar.
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
A/N: So here's Cersei after a long wait… paranoid and delusional to the end.