Do to the very kind words and encouragement of my reviewers I decided to write this one shot into a three chapter story.
Fire & Rain
17 Years Later
She watched him with cold fierce eyes, like a caged lioness that had paced back and forth so many times that she had made herself sick.
The serving wench wasn't even pretty, some kitchen servant or bakers daughter by the size of her ass. She may have even been the cook's wife from the sight of those rotted teeth. She wasn't the sleek, pale, golden-haired beauty that was Cersei Lannister, yet this woman had her husband's full attention on the cold northern night.
She knew he had done this on purpose. He may be a smelly, fat man that whiffed of ale who made Tommen's eyes water when he wanted the boy to give him a hug, but Cersei Lannister knew after seventeen years that her husband always knew what he was doing. King Robert Baratheon wanted to shame his wife, wanted her to see him bed another, a lesser woman. All of it was for talking back to him over the statue of the dead Stark girl.
Cersei wanted to comfort herself, she was prettier, and she was smarter. Yet there was a sad almost vulnerability to her green eyes as she watched her husband lick ale of the blusterous kitchen servant's pale, dirty cleavage.
"She got an earthy taste to her!" He declared to the entire feast in a booming laughing voice.
Pearl white teeth clenched under a stony mask as knights and retainers, lords and lordlings, Northerners and Southerners, all of them cheered in laughter at the King.
"Fools" The golden beauty sneered in her mind and turned to her hostess seated next to her. Catelyn Stark said nothing to the display Robert was putting on. Under her courtesy she could tell that the handsome red-haired older woman was just as disgusted by it as Cersei was. But Catelyn Stark was a gentlewomen's gentlewoman, a true lady, and she would never portray a hint of anything she was thinking. She had her role, she took it with pride, and played it like a finely tuned instrument.
"This one isn't a fool, mearly a sheep."
Cersei let it go; she figured that it didn't take a woman of high intelligence to run an estate in such a frigid wasteland like the North. But, once again, she couldn't help feel saddened by what she saw around her. Catelyn was a sheep's sheep, but she had five healthy children, all of whom loved and cared for each other. She watched them below the dais play and laugh with one another, tell stories of childhood adventures, and of course argue. They were all happy children.
A sense of rising bitterness took hold of her, a vile envy, a deep jealousy of the woman sitting next to her, as Cersei watched her smile down at the children. Suddenly, the queen was looking over her hostess the way she had been the baker's slut her husband was licking. Cersei stared at Catelyn's plainly-styled auburn hair, her unremarkable and drab gown, and the vague wrinkles on the corners of her lips. She was a beauty once, no denying it, but now she had gone to waste like everything in this place. The North took everything and left nothing for her. Cersei wondered what had made this woman so special, more important than her all those years ago.
Her eyes wandered below and began observing the Stark children's faces, smiling, ignorant and happy. Both of this fish daughter's sons were handsome and strong, both daughters beautiful. It somehow made the acid in her chest burn even more to see such blessings.
Then in a moment of clarity she remembered him, remembered her own piece of the North. The queen quietly began to look for him on the benches, leaning on the walls maybe? She began to search for him somewhere in the great hall. She wanted to look at him again, wanted to get a better look. When she arrived in the dreary fortress that was Winterfell, she tried not to stare, tried not to make a scene. For the last month she had been silently nervous about seeing him. She wouldn't know what he would think of her, or more to the point how he would think period. It had been seventeen years, and she had never got to know him long enough to understand him well.
Her searching emerald eyes couldn't find him no matter how hard she looked. She wasn't sure if he was even attending the feast at all. If that were the case she wouldn't know when she would see him again, it would be suspicious and draw much attention to simply go to him, or even just to ask around for him.
When it was clear that he was nowhere to be seen she found herself being watched from afar. It was a familiar sink in the base of her belly that a girl of seventeen had once had sitting in the Godswood of the Red Keep. Cersei somehow knew where to find the pair of mist color eyes boring into her very soul. Leaning against a column on the far end of the great hall, Eddard Stark watched his queen with a nostalgic, fallen face. The sternness that was always a part of the hardened soldier was forgotten in a moment of memories of younger years, past glories and … lost loves.
Almost as if he had taken her hand, they both walked through a door that hadn't been opened in years.
She had to find him, he had to be here somewhere, and there were only so many places father would let him go in the big red fortress. A beautiful, golden haired teenage girl was pacing her room tearing it apart looking for her other half that seemed to have disappeared as she returned.
Cersei had to see him now; she needed to feel his arms around her. She wanted him to hold her, to whisper in her ear, not comforts, never comforts. She wanted to hear truths, confident promises that they would be together forever. After tonight she had to be reminded that she had someone, that this feeling of pain in her heart wouldn't be forever.
She felt like a fool throwing herself at the young stranger, begging him to take her, like some frightened little girl. She was a Lannister of the Rock and Lions feared nothing. But it was more than that, in those moments alone in the Godswood, surrounded by fireflies; she felt something strong, something deep for the young knight sitting next to her.
The ease of the company that she had shared with him was so surprising that it caught her off guard. When she was with Jaime he was always joking and making wit of what she told him. She found herself scowling at him most times, but it was a balance. Jaime was one side, and Cersei the other, together they made one. But when she talked with her serious young lord tonight, she couldn't describe how joyful it felt to see him smile, and how sweet a victory it was to hear him laugh and know it was because of her.
The truth was she wanted him; she wanted him more than anything in the world. Yet it was never meant to be. Cersei was going to be betrothed tomorrow and yet it wouldn't be to either boy she wanted.
The thought made her sad and anxious, a mix of emotions that she couldn't take sitting down, or standing still. When she got on her knees she knew she wouldn't find Jaime underneath her large canopied bed, but it was all she could do to stop from curling in a ball and crying.
Knock, Knock
Knock!
Three taps on her door and she was there before the last one was done. She sighed gratefully, knowing she was going to lose it the minute she saw her twin brother's face. She was going to toss her arms around him and loose herself the minute he walked through that door. She pulled it open and bent her knees slightly ready to jump into his arms, take in that wonderful leather smell of his coat and know she would never be alone. But when she saw who was standing there she took a step back and gasped in surprise.
Ned Stark, young, handsome, in his boiled leather surcoat and long-sleeve blue shirt stood outside her door. He caught her eyes, his face twitched painfully and then looked down at his grimy brown boots with shame.
"My lady …" He started but stopped, unsure what he would add to it.
Cersei's eyes grew wild; her hand ached to slap him. How dare he come to her after rebuffing her need for him. She was a lioness, and yet tonight he took her power away, took her dignity. Ned Stark made her feel powerless.
"Lord Stark … I believe we ended our conversation earlier." She replied with such icy courtesy that they could have used her to build a level on the Wall.
The young Knight opened his mouth then closed it, before he spoke. "My lady, I … I couldn't leave you without." He replied with a chancing look.
Cersei scoffed, a moment of mad honesty took her. "Well, my Lord Stark, I believe you, like I, will have to live without for the rest of our lives." She grabbed the door and swung it.
PLUNK
The young Warden of the North stuck his boot in the doorway, halting the door. He pushed it open again, forcing her back. His stoic, dark eyes reflecting some great helpless anger as he stepped out of the shadowy torch light of the corridor and into her candle-lit bedchamber. She staggered backward a moment, waiting for him to make the next move.
But suddenly, as quickly as it was there, the aggression in the youth's eyes was gone. She had rather admitted to herself she liked it when he showed his aggressive side. There was a frustration in him that could be seen manifesting in his clenched jaw. He wanted her, but he didn't know how to take her.
"Lady Cersei …" He shook his head. "My lady, I couldn't … couldn't leave our conversation the way it was. I'm here to …" Ned didn't know what to say.
She hated him, hated that he made her feel something for someone else. There were other people, Ned Stark had his vows to Catelyn spoken at Riverrun, and Cersei had her vows to Jaime spoken in a squeal of a pink newborn to another holding onto her ankle as they came out of her mother's womb.
Both knew it was wrong, that whatever this was it was damned by the gods, man and possibility. But Cersei couldn't stop thinking the one thing that was on her mind since she saw him standing there in her doorway, the torches illuminating everything about the man that took her.
"You came back for me."
It wasn't a question, it was a comment made by the realization. This wasn't going to last, it couldn't last, or it could threaten everything her family held dear, that both their families held dear. This Realm has already seen in great, bloody horror what happened when a married man ran away with a maiden fair.
Her statement made the dark haired knight stiffen, a face tense with conflict. He was once again straddling the line between his honor and his want. Eyes shifting, body shaking, it was as if he was balancing on a rope in a Mummer's show. Or maybe he was sitting on a fence, waiting for a gust of wind, a divine sign from his northern gods to show him the way.
"I came back … for you." He acknowledged her.
Hearing him say the words, repeating one part of the phrase in his awkward pause seemed to add poignancy to it. "For you" was all she heard. Ned saw her, saw her like Jaime did, but it was different, special because he wasn't a part of her. They were so different in so many ways and yet he cared, he loved. He came back for her … for her
Cersei's skirts ruffled as she walked past Ned and to her door. She stood in the doorway and held her breath looking from one torch-lit red hall to the next, making sure it was clear. Then, with a light clank, she closed the door and bolted it.
Behind her she could feel the young Northerner touch her arm cautiously when she rested her head against the cool metal frame; a nail head icy on her feverish skin made her shiver.
"For me?" She whispered into the wood.
"Did you say something?" Ned asked taking a firmer grip on her arm. It was the compassion in his touch, the gentleness of how he spoke.
"Yes …" She turned to him; his hand never leaving her arm. She pressed herself against his chest. "It's the same thing I've been saying since you've come here." The girl whispered, cupping his cheek gently.
Ned let go of her arm and his hands slowly traced her lower back as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, and lowered his head against hers, their eyes never leaving.
"And what is that, my lady?" he replied seemingly out of breath, gulping in some air as if the heat the two were producing was taking all the oxygen in the room.
"Kiss me you honorable fool …"
She got on her toes and met her lips to his. Like before it wasn't like Jaime's, nothing was like Jaime's, but this was a good kind of different. New, exciting, she had never kissed anyone else before. They took time to get to know each other's mouths, creating a base for what was to come, a safe place to go back to if either was unsure in the passion to come.
When time passed, it was Ned that made the first move when he swept her off her feet and into his arms effortlessly. Their lips were still locked as he carried Cersei to her bed.
It was Robert's blusterous voice that brought her out of the memory. Her gaze was still on Ned, and Ned's still on her. For one mad moment he was hers again. She imagined herself in his arms that night, and it made her feel something for the first time in many years. But the mad moment passed when Eddard turned away from her; she saw his back as he leaned on a column like a winded runner. Soon a man dressed in black and favoring a Stark look joined him. The door to the past closed shut with a slam and once again left to neglect.
"Is this your first time in the North, your grace?"
Cersei broke her gaze away and back to Catelyn, she gave a stiff smile. "Yes … lovely country."
The Night was cold and the fires had burned low when Cersei wandered back to the great hall of Winterfell. The feast had ended hours ago, and the stillness of the halls was almost magical. Alone, there was a power to this castle that made sleep uneasy for her. Everything about the Starks of Winterfell was mysterious and strange. Their words, their lords, and now even their halls it seemed. When she was here, she could feel something in the walls, a strange presence of something foreboding.
When it came to retire she knew she would find herself alone. Robert was nowhere to be found, off with his kitchen whore. Her bitterness was waylaid though when Tommen and Myrcella crawled into bed with her. This was their first time away from the Red Keep, they were still small and from all accounts the North was a large and fierce part of the kingdom. They snuggled close into her , her soft words mended their fears and Jaime's easy jests and ticklish fingers caused little sleepy giggles that put them at ease. For the rest of the time she lay in bed holding them and Jaime sat in her vanity chair watching them as they slept. When they weren't looking, when they slept, that was the only time Jaime could be their father. Her brother watched them with silent fascination, sometimes it dawned even on the Kingslayer just what he created.
But sleep never came for her. She lay awake thinking, remembering a day she never wanted to. She hadn't thought about it in years, and had tried to lock it away in her memory. But for the last month every day they rode for Winterfell when she slept she could hear a new born baby crying loudly, a girl sobbing desperately as they pried him from her arms, the shrill screeching for her brother to stop them from taking the child. The dreams always ended with the back of a man she once loved walking away with a squealing babe in his arms.
The hall was empty, well mostly empty. She had a hard glare as she passed a bench where her little brother Tryion Lannister lay cradling a shaggy, black and white bitch. The dwarf moaned a chuckle drunkenly in his sleep as the dog licked the chicken grease off his face. She gave a disgusted scoff and pulled her supple fur coat closer around her in the shadowy room, her slippers made a soft scraping sound in the quiet hall.
"Lyanna …"
The name made her stop on a dime. The way it had seventeen years ago in silken sheets.
"Lya …"
Cersei turned her head toward the table in the back of the hall near the large double doors made of strong Iron wood. She didn't know why she followed the moaning. Stopping in the space between benches she found King Robert Baratheon lying flat on the table, face up. He was as naked, as big, and as hairy as a skewered wild boar. As she wrinkled her nose she thought he definitely smelled like one.
"Lyanna!" He called aloud, his voice echoing just slightly in the hall, loud enough to be heard, but not enough to wake the castle, nor the drunken stragglers. Watching the pathetic waste of a man in front of her that was looking half wild, Cersei remembered their wedding night.
It was similar to that night in Winterfell. Robert was drinking at every toast at their feast, blustering about the battles he fought. He was acting like he had won the war single handedly. Everyone knew it wasn't true, Cersei had stood on a terrace in her silken dressing gown that very morning, standing level with a mounted and armored Eddard Stark. His men said no words when she leaned over the balcony and placed one last kiss on his lips before he rode off to win Robert's War. They would never see each other again she had thought.
When they were in bed together Robert wasn't the fierce handsome man in the Sept of Baelor. The new king was drunk and aggressive. He wanted to pour wine on her, she didn't like that; she was his wife, not one of his whores. Cersei imagined a gentler time as she undressed for bed, her back to him. She thought of Ned Stark in that moment, how gentle his touches and kisses where on her smooth, naked body. However Robert wouldn't wait, he turned her around and ripped her beautiful dress to pieces; throwing her naked to the bed. She didn't see much of a choice when he poured his "Arbor gold, on his golden bride" He had smeared it all over her belly with his face. The rest of that night was two things she remembered well, the smell of wine on his dripping beard and a name.
"Lyanna …"
Cersei didn't know how or when she got it, but she was holding Tryion's dragon-boned dagger, looming over her drunken husband as he lay blacked out on the table. Her anger was out of control. The Queen's vision was reddened like blood, the black rage of a life wasted, a life that should have happened, and a life never known pounded in her head. She blamed him, blamed Lyanna Stark, but most of all she blamed Eddard Stark for choosing Catelyn over her.
The misty, dark steel glinted in the light of the glowing coals in the low burning brazier. Her knuckles were white; clinging to the dragon bone hilt as tight as she never knew she could. She raised it high in the air, her breath short, and her arms trembling. It was ready to come down, to cut through soft fat over and over again. She was part Kingslayer, why not become full Kingslayer? But looking down at that hairy face, the closed eyes, Cersei realized that this wasn't the death that befitted her pig. It wasn't his time just yet; things were coming to a head. Shaking with pent up fury, it was a true struggle, a conflict not to end it all right there.
As she dropped the dagger on the floor with a clank, Cersei's fury was eating her alive. She had never been so angry in her entire life; she felt like she was going to burst, her blood boiling, and her bones buckling in fury. Suddenly she couldn't breathe, couldn't see. There was no air in the hall, like she was trapped. Her entire life she described herself like a great lioness, caged in a mummer's circus., but now she felt like she could see the cage around her. The anger, the hatred, it all didn't matter because there was nothing she could do trapped behind the bars of her sex.
She ran for the doors before she even knew what she was doing. She didn't know where she was going, she just had to leave, had to get out, before the reality crushed her. It was a cold, starless night in the Winterfell yard. Even though there wasn't snow falling, Cersei could see the presence of frost on the roofs of the stables and blacksmith's hut, and every window.
The cold air stung her cheeks and nose, like a sting of dozens of honey flies. Her throat tightened till it hurt, her lungs felt on fire. She gasped and her blind rage was still on her, but there wasn't anything she could do to get rid of it. No outlet she could think of to exercise the hatred in her soul.
"Clank!"
"Fump!"
"FUMP!"
The sound of metal on metal, and metal on padding echoed through the empty yard. The blows were powerful and angry, a beat that Cersei felt in her heart, a silent drum cadence to her rage's march. It was all one in the same.
She walked across the frigid open space briskly as the angry noises continued. She thought that her feet would suffer in her soft slippers, walking through the muck of the yard. But she found that the ground was frozen solid and crunched like grass underneath her.
The sources of the sounds were coming from a fenced-off station in the middle of the yard where a youth in leathers attacked a practice dummy in armor. As Cersei watched she saw that it wasn't practice at all, it was an angry and helpless assault of frustration. It was like he was attracting her, the blows, the anger; it all matched how she was feeling. With each strike, each ring of the sword on padding, she felt in tune with him. She closed her eyes and felt the sensation of striking the dummy.
"Harder"
She squeezed her eyelids and could feel the adrenaline rush inside her with each clank and thud. Her arm burned as if it was her striking, her knuckles white clenching her fists as if the blade was inside queen's hand.
"Harder!"
THUNK!
THUNK!
"Harder"
FLUNK!
FLUNK!
FLUNK!
"Harder!"
THUNK!
THUMP!
"HARDER!"
PFFMP!
There was a ripping noise that was followed by a heavy metallic thunk. Cersei gave an involuntary shudder and held her breath. There was a sliding collapse and a loud clatter of wood and padding that fell over the small fence around the straw covered practice area.
With a heavy shaky sigh, Cersei blew out the fire blazing in her heart. Numbness settled like all of her insides were covered with third degree burns. She took three deep breaths of the northern air and slowly blew them out, before she opened her eyes.
In front of her she saw the youth keeled over, hands gripping his knees, and breathing hard. He had thick black curls that fell over his eyes, next to him his sword was stuck in the ground. Watching the young man, Cersei's eyes widened in shock and maybe in a true moment of disbelief. It was like looking at a ghost when he finally stood straight and found her face. For one second of madness she thought that she was locked with the same boy who rubbed his stubble when he was amused by something. But above all else she remembered how safe she felt in his arms when they snuggled under the sheets staring out the sheer drapes at the sun rising over King's Landing all those years ago.
She froze, her mouth open, unable to rationalize what she was seeing. Then, like a cold punch in her heart she suddenly found that those curls were not of Stark seed and the look, the fierceness in his grey eyes.
He was black of hair like a Baratheon, there was strength in him like a Lannister, but it was the eyes … King Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the First Men and the Andals did not have gray eyes. Cersei Lannister held the baby to her breast and rocked him back and forth. He made little noises that made her smile, even as it seemed both mother and baby were in peril. He was so little in her arms that it was hard to believe she had carried him all these months. She couldn't stop staring at him even when she was being spoken to.
"Your Grace … I don't know what to tell you."
"Tell me that you can fix this …" She looked up at the stern yet kindly old man.
Jon Arryn sighed and placed his hands behind back. "I don't know if I can … things are very heated, Your Grace. If Robert found out that Ned bedded his wife the night before …"
Cersei clenched her jaw. "He didn't know that I was going to be his wife!" She replied angrily with a teenage petulance.
The old man sighed again. "There hasn't been news of Ned for weeks and if Robert finds out about this …" He paused like a worried father. "Ned is far from home with an angry King and Tully's between him." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
Feeling the tension in the room the little baby fussed. Cersei rocked him gently, kissing his head and found old Jon watching the child and mother sadly. The girl held the baby snuggly placing her head against his, she was scared. She had seen all the Hills in Lannisport, the bastards, and how her family looked down on all of them. Cersei looked down on all of them too when she was girl. Now she had one in her arms carrying her blood and strength in him. She thought of running back to the Rock to hide inside the mountain fortress with her child, and let Robert Baratheon break himself against it. But her father wouldn't hide her; Tywin Lannister would take her beautiful little baby and throw him from the wall into the ocean.
"You're a Lannister, you sully our name with each breath this bastard takes" She could hear him clearly.
She thought of Jaime. It was an assurance once that her brother would defend her from Robert Baratheon's wrath. Jaime would slay the oaf if tried to touch her and the child. But now she didn't believe he would when she showed him the child. Her brother had steeled himself when he learned she was with child, he knew he would have to endure her pregnancies with another man's children. But when he saw the Stark gray in her boy's eyes he left angrily, a betrayed man. She hadn't seen him since.
Old Jon seemed to see the fear in her eyes because he gave a deep and sympathetic sigh. "Robert is out hunting … he won't be back for a fortnight." He announced walking toward her window. "There might be an opportunity that will present itself to me, your grace." He spoke tiredly.
"It's all I ask for, my lord." She said timidly, she was scared for her and her baby. Without Jaime and the power of house Lannister behind her, the young beauty felt naked and alone.
The kindly old man came to her bed side and watched the baby in her arms with a smile. "I've known Ned since he was eight years of age. He's always the son I never had and always wanted. The same goes for Robert, as thick headed he is. But your child carries Ned's blood and because of that there is nothing I won't do to protect him." He placed a hand on Cersei's shoulder.
"Did you say something … Your Grace?"
The boy was being polite and Cersei knew it. She had been screaming at him to hit the dummy harder. He was still breathing hard and so was she.
"No …" She lied quietly with an uneasy smile. The boy blinked at her, but graciously accepted her answer; he didn't push her though she was sure half the castle had heard her.
They stared at each other for more than a minute. He was expecting her to say something, to dismiss him, to chastise him. If he only knew that all she wanted to do was to kiss him and hold him in her arms, to brush her fingers through the hair she gave him.
"If I woke you …"
"What troubles you tonight, Jon?" She heard herself ask the young man.
He seemed stricken when heard his name, he gaped at her with his mouth open. She walked past him and pulled his sword out of the ground, she couldn't bear to look at him. Those searching Stark eyes would most likely see right through her.
"You know my name?" He asked, not hiding his surprise.
Cersei lifted the sword and examined the blade closely. "Why shouldn't I? I gave it to you." She put on a mask of classic Lannister arrogance.
Jon Snow watched her with suspicious eyes of confusion. It was obvious he was in a defensive silence. He was unsure if she was mocking him or if she was truly telling him the truth. A part of the queen wanted him to believe both fully, and yet neither one for his own safety.
Cersei had seen the letter in Jon Arryn's office as she was clearing away his belongings after Lysa Arryn had fled in the night. Cersei remembered her flushed faced and the pounding of her heart when she came across a recent letter he had written, bound for Winterfell. He had wanted Ned to come down to King's Landing and bring "The Boy" with him. Cersei couldn't imagine how close everything had come to unraveling right in front of her. She didn't want to know what she would do to protect her children. Would she kill one to protect another?
Watching Jon, she circled him slowly taking in what she missed grow in seventeen years. "Your father had brought you to the Red Keep on his return to the North … with your dead aunt." Cersei choked on the name and took a moment to steady herself before before she continued. "I came to visit you as the King and your father mourned her. I was the first woman who ever held you … did you know that?" She asked Jon.
The boy didn't follow her; he looked preoccupied listening to her silently. "No, I didn't." He answered quietly.
"When they told me that you didn't have a name I took it upon myself to give one to you. When your father returned for you, I told him that Jon was your name … He didn't fight me on it." She smiled as she brandished his sword with a few swings, enjoying the power the weapon gave her.
Jon stood silently watching the frozen yard in deep thought. For a nervous moment Cersei feared that the boy was putting it together in his head. She moved quickly to make sure it didn't happen.
"Do you like it?" She asked.
With a sober flick of gray he tracked her. "I'm sorry …?" He trailed off.
"The name, do you like it?" She asked again.
He still only vaguely heard her. "Yes … my father's mentor was Jon Arryn … He was a good and honorable man. I hope to carry it with as much gallantry for him and …" He trailed off again but he was looking her straight in the eye. "For you"
The words, and the way it was spoken took her breath away. Cersei Lannister's face twisted in emotional pain and slowly she reached out and touched the boy's clean shaven face. Her heart felt like someone was twisting a dirk inside it. He watched her with wide eyes, she could tell no one touched his face like this before, with so much feeling. He looked scared to move, yet it was as if he never wanted her to remove the hand either. His cheek was smooth and clean, he had her skin she thought.
She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him. Wanted to nuzzle his black hair like she used to, but now wasn't the time. There were too many things going on right now for her to let her guard down enough to openly love him the way she was always meant to. He was the only one of her children that was completely out of danger. Her soft green eyes hardened and she removed her hand confidently. Jon's gray eyes watched her in anticipation. She shuddered a misty shallow breath and lifted the sword.
"This is shit steel." She said with an arrogant bluntness, showing him the sword. "When you're done playing at sword fighting and want a real sword … come find me." She tossed the blade at his feet and walked away.
"Stay safe, my love …"
Crunching over the frozen ground she could feel eyes on her. They weren't Jon's though; it was a familiar gaze that made her heart thump harder. She stopped and looked up high into the towers of the gray fortress of House Stark. Just above the keep she saw a naked man looking down on her from a balcony. His stone gray eyes seemed to have watched the entire exchange with Jon. After a wordless beat he seemed to have been called away and he disappeared out of sight.
She never looked back as she dashed back to her chamber. With a loud squeal the door was thrown open and with an even louder slam she closed it. Her back was up against the door when she thumped her head against the iron wood. Cersei sputtered a breath and closed her eyes.
Green eyes opened in the middle of the night as Cersei lay in between smooth sheets of silk that matched the small clothes she slept in. There were boot scuffles on the floor of her bed chamber approaching her. She slowly panicked upon hearing them get closer. She turned to the baby nuzzled peacefully against her naked pale chest. What would she do if it was Robert returned from the hunt? She didn't know what she would say when the King would take the baby in his big hands and find his best friends eyes looking at him.
But when her mattress dipped and a hand rubbed her arm gently she knew that it wasn't Robert Baratheon. He was never this gentle and yet Jaime had softer hands. Cersei turned to find another pair of gray eyes watching the sleeping baby.
"Ned …" She whispered in hope. When the man responded to the name, a sense of relief spread throughout her body and soul. Wordlessly she reached out a hand and cupped soft boyish stubble and sniffled. But the man didn't respond, though she could tell that his eyes wanted too.
She craned her head up to see that he wasn't alone either. Jon Arryn stood inside at the foot of her bed and in the doorway the spider Lord Varys had his arms folded inside the sleeves of his large, silver satin robe.
"Ned?" She asked the young knight, but he didn't responded, simply placed his hand on the head of the baby's head. The little wibble he made showed that their son responded to his father's touch even in his sleep. Despite the late night confusion it made Cersei smile to see it.
"There isn't much time …" Varys spoke to everyone but Cersei in a voice that she could only guess he had constantly reminded them over and over again. She didn't like the way that Varys had spoken to them and she didn't like the way that old Jon was looking at her. Ned was cold as a block of ice as he refused to meet her gaze no matter what she did.
"What's going on?" she asked. She didn't like being kept in the dark about things. With all their secret looks and unspoken convictions it made Cersei scared like she was somehow at their mercy.
Varys looked out the door a moment before coming inside. "Forgive me, your grace …" He shut the door. "I believe we have found a solution to your …" He looked at the baby. "Little problem" He finished with a simpering undertone.
She turned to Ned with a thankful smile. "Thank the gods …" she sighed. But Ned said no words or showed no emotion to the announcement.
Old Jon shifted his boots. "It would seem that the night before your wedding … Robert had impregnated a girl he had been using as a bed warmer. She died in child birth and …" He paused mournfully. "It would seem the boy will not make it as well." He finished sadly.
There was a deep anger at the thought of Robert producing another bastard. But she swallowed it knowing that it might prove to help her get out of her situation. "I see …" She said respectfully of the whore that Robert tossed away like the garbage she was.
"Robert has returned from his hunt …" the master of whispers relayed to her gentle as a promise. The news hit Cersei like a ton of bricks; she turned to Ned then back to the older men with wide green eyes.
"He mourns the death of the Lady Lyanna … and he will be distraught." Varys said. Cersei turned to Ned once again and for once didn't think of the woman who had wronged her on the queens wedding night, but instead looked to the dead girl's brother. He looked so sad that she had wanted to take him in her arms, if only for a moment.
"It'll be all the time we need to switch the children." Jon said quietly.
"Switch?" It hadn't occurred to her yet what that would mean for her baby. "I don't …" She trailed off looking at the faces.
"Yes …" Varys cut in. "We believe in his grief his grace will not know the difference between infants." He nodded.
Cersei looked down at her snoozing black-haired beauty. "But what about my baby?" She asked unconsciously wrapping her arms around the tiny body.
Jon and Varys looked at each other for a moment and seemed to be baffled for words, before they turned back to Cersei.
"He's coming north with me." It was the first time that Eddard had spoken since he came into the room. His voice was hard and cold, as if he wanted to be thousands of leagues away. She looked down at the baby and then back up at the assembly of lords.
"But …" She stopped and then she was stricken with horror. "When will I see him again?" She asked before she could stop herself, she knew the answer.
There was a deep silence in the room. "Your grace … for the sake of the realm, which has just been unified … it would be too dangerous if you kept him near you." Varys said gently.
Her mouth was open. Her chest was on fire and she suddenly felt so numb that she lost where she was.
"No!" Someone screamed. But who was it?
"No! you can't have him!" She heard again.
"Your grace it's not safe …"
"He's mine! I won't leave him!"
She wasn't sure when but suddenly she was being restrained as Jon and Ned tried to pry her arms apart. She was screaming, thrashing, feeling her grip loosen on the scared infant that was bawling loudly at the noise.
"Not the baby!" She begged feeling her slender muscles losing their strength to arms meant for the field of battle. Little arms clutched to the silk that covered her breasts only momentarily before he was lost forever.
The air was cold on her milky skin where a warm babe wrapped snuggly in a bundling blanket once slept. She reached for the screaming little black-haired boy. She saw him reaching for her as Ned took him in his arms snuggly, safely. The Northman turned and looked at Cersei who got on her knees trying to chase after him, but she was restrained by old Jon, half holding her sympathetically.
"JON!" She screamed after the child. Eddard Stark watched her with desperate sad eyes before he looked down at the crying boy. He repeated the name and pressed him to his chest as if he was the most precious thing he had ever had. He looked like he had wanted to say something to her, to apologize, to kiss comforts against her ear, but he didn't. Quietly he turned and began to walk away.
"No Ned! Don't take my baby!" She screamed after him.
The door to her bed chamber flew open and a figure walked in slowly. He was young and beautiful with golden locks and shined armor, donned in a white cape. His face was so familiar to the girl that it was as if she was looking into a reflection. Seeing all the men in his sister's room, Jaime Lannister looked greatly confused.
Cersei seemed baffled that the boy had come to her since she hadn't seen him in weeks and yet now there he stood. His face was alert and determined when he spotted the lords. She had expected to see a sword in hand, but surprisingly it was polished toy knight that she recognized from their childhood. The figure had been her brother's favorite since she could remember, so much so that even now he kept it in his saddle bag. But why he had it or what he had planned to do with it before this moment she couldn't say.
"Jaime, stop them!" She screeched shrilly.
For a brash moment the young knight was reaching for his sword, but Varys stepped forward and placed his powdered hand on Jaime's shoulder and whispered something in a low voice. The young man's face flashed with rage, grinding his teeth, but slowly he removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.
"No, Jaime stop him … he's taking Jon!" She screamed at the action.
The lion's heir locked eyes with the silent wolf as he held the babe in his arms. Eddard's cold gray eyes wandered down to the polished and repainted toy knight mounted on his faithful stead. Jaime looked down at the toy quietly. Slowly he lifted his arm and offered it to Ned staring sorrowfully at the sobbing baby. Ned Stark took the toy, studying it for a moment before he strode out of the room.
The teenage girl broke free from the old man's grip and sprinted after the only man she had ever loved. Jaime stepped in her way and caught her. His armor was cold against her half naked body. She screamed and fought him. She punched and slapped her twin, raking her nails against his cheek, but after a while her animal screams turned to sobs, and her fierce battling to limp defeat. She slid to the polished floor sobbing, Jaime followed, cradling her. Soon it was just the two of them alone, unmoving.
The way she realized it should always be.
