The Fall of the Dragons.
Chapter IV: You will wed the King.

A/N: So, Jaime's in Kings Landing, it's been about 2 months since his knighting. And Cersei's around. Viewer discretion is advised: Twincest. All I'm saying.

I'm making Cersei more innocent here. I don't think she was fully corrupted until she became queen, I think a lot of her actions were because she was a Lannister – she had no power, only her name in comparison to her brother; though while her ambitious and cunning nature would undoubtedly have been there from an early age and nurtured somewhat while she was in the Capitol, I still think she had those maiden fantasies and views that Sansa did about knights and chivalry, at least until her wedding night.

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Cersei's POV, 280 AL.

The vivid smell of the dank herbs filled her nose; it smelled of rot and dirt and certainly not of nice herbs. For some reason, Cersei had thought this visit would be like the visit to the other fortune tellers she'd come across at the annual Lannisport fair her father let her attend. Those fortune tellers would wear silk, their look was foreign, probably from the Free Cities. They waved incense and sweet smelling sticks around her, and told her that she would become a great beauty and marry a great man – one had hinted at a Prince of a sad beauty. For once in her life, Cersei had acted like a child and squealed in delight. Jaime had rolled his eyes and her father had merely twitched his lips in amusement. Her mother had laughed along with her son and taken joy in the delight of her daughter.

This visit was different. The woman was old and ugly; she had large bags under her eyes, a freakish purple in colour. Her skin had a light coloured tint to it underneath the darkness of her skin, and her lips were dark blue, cracked. She continually licked them as if that could cure them. She was not from Westeros, but Cersei could not say where she was from.

Gazing at the woman, the young girl felt a shiver go down her spine. You are a lioness. You are not scared, she thought. That gave her strength. She heard a wail from behind her and Jayne Farman ran from the tent in fear. Cersei huffed indignantly. She still had Melara with her. She and Melara cast a glance at each other; Cersei saw fear in her eyes, but Melara was brave enough to stay. Melara was a pretty girl, the same age as Cersei, with long brown hair and big brown eyes and a kind face. She would never compare to the Lannister beauty though.

Cersei glanced at the fortune teller. Her eyes were onyx black, the iris looking yellow. She supposed that was with age. "You are a fortune teller?" She asked, pleased her voice did not break.

"I am. Who asks?" The woman they dubbed 'Maggy the Frog' really was ignorant. Instead of listening to her and addressing Lord Tywin's daughter properly, she turned her head down and fiddled with some ornaments.

"I want to know my future, what will be made of Lord Tywin's flesh," she demanded, her green eyes narrowing to slits; like a lioness hunting her prey.

One thing could be said for Maggy the Frog; she looked like one when she laughed. What was left of her chin retreated into her neck. She looked like she had five chins or one neck that resembled a tree trunk when she threw her head back to laugh her throaty laugh. "You throw that man's name around like you Lannister's throw your gold around. Your future is not one I'd like to read; it is a horror, and would entertaining to watch it unfold."

Cersei would have growled if she had forgotten herself. Instead, she drew her ten year old self up to her fullest height and put on a commanding voice. "I demand to know what my future holds. My father promised me the hand of the Crown Prince, and he is here with the King for a tourney. You WILL tell me, or I'll have your head on a spike outside Casterly Rock."

Maggy said nothing, but looked at Cersei curiously. Finally, she sighed. "Come here then, sit and hold out your hand." Cersei did as she bid, with Melara following suit. Cersei stiffened when she saw the woman bring out a dagger. She kept her hand still as the woman drew a drop of blood and gazed at the knife as she brought it over the candle. She was muttering in another language and she dropped the blood gathered on the steel onto the flame. Melara jumped back at the reaction, but Cersei remained where she was. "You have three questions you can ask me, child."

"When will I wed the prince?"

"Never. You will wed the king."

"I will be queen, though?"

"Aye. Queen you shall be... Until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear."

Cersei had one more question left. She knew her duty as a wife. "Will the king and I have children?"

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you." A sadistic smile crossed the woman's face. Cersei knew the meaning of that word. Tyrion, she thought bitterly. He'd already killed their mother, now he would do away with her at some point?

Melara looked on eagerly, almost bouncing in her seat with anticipation. "Can you tell me mine?"

"Certainly. Your hand, my child," Maggy said, all sadism gone from her face. She took the blood from the new gash on Melara's hand and dropped it into the flame. Cersei's hand was still on the table, but Melara had moved her hand to her lap, concealing it. "Three questions you may ask of me, child."

" Will I marry Jaime?" Cersei's head turned sharply. She knew of Melara's infatuation with her twin and the directness of the question worried her. Jaime was hers.

" Not Jaime, nor any other man. Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close." Cersei's hand lashed out and threw a potion in the woman's face. Cersei fled quickly, Melara straight after her. They heard the old crone screeching in her language. She could keep her prophecies; she was Cersei of House Lannister. She was a lioness.

Cersei awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. All she could see in front of her was the old witch's face with her sadistic smile and frog like neck billowing as she laughed. She clutched her bed sheet closer to her. You are a lioness of the Rock. You are not afraid. She left her bed and grabbed a glass of water from the marble polished table. Her hands shook as she poured the jug and downed the tepid liquid. She wrung her hands before she was aware of what she was doing. Dropping her hands to her side, she fidgeted with her shift. She tired of that as well. She made her way to the large window in her chambers and pulled the curtain back a little. She could see the first lights of day beginning to creep over the horizon. She sighed softly. The view out of her window left her to gaze at the port of Blackwater Bay, the harbour and the Narrow Sea. It was a lovely view, for a city over-crowded and polluted.

She would not sleep this close to dawn. She wandered around her room in the Tower of the Hand; past the four poster bed with its lion drapes, crimson quilt, and golden pillows and throw-overs and oak bedframe. The room was decorated in pale gold to compliment the red of the rock walls. The hearth had nearly burned out. Shaped like the open jaws of a lion on her father's orders, its mane flickering upwards covering the main body of the chimney in her room, it covered most of the west wall of her room, and her chamber was on the South Western side of the castle.

She paced restlessly, her feet brushing the soft wool of the crimson rug with a pride of lions on it; 4 lions. Two females and two males. She'd had it put in her room on her father's orders after her brothers birth, after her mother's death. She had one like it back in Casterly Rock. Tyrion had one in his room. Jaime had refused to have one, telling his father that Tyrion was a lion to, even if he was a little one. Cersei had said that Tyrion should be a maggot filled lion.

Then she remembered, Ser Jaime Lannister would be passing through the Capital to visit. She smiled wryly at that. She had missed her brother, but father had been making her attend days with the other ladies and the Princess Elia. Not that Elia had been around much with the birth of her daughter.

Hours passed, and dawn turned into morning, the sun shining bright on the Blackwater. She waited impatiently for the arrival of her brother. She hadn't seen him for years; he'd been squiring or in Casterly Rock, while she'd been here in the Capital with her father while he served as Hand of the King.

"Cersei," she heard a soft murmur behind her. She turned, a smile on her face and saw her other half standing there. Jaime looked resplendent in new armour; a golden lion on crimson. She ran to him and hugged him, her hands twining around his neck and ruffling themselves in his hair. Jaime's hands slid down her body to rest at her hips. "You've grown more beautiful since the last time I saw you."

"When was that? It's been too long," Cersei spoke back to him softly, cupping his face in her hands. "You stand taller. Has knighthood gone to your head already? You've had two moons to adjust to the new title." Venom had leaked its way into her voice.

"Still unhappy about being Lady Cersei Lannister instead of Princess Cersei Targaryen? I never knew you to be the jealous type." Jaime turned out of her embrace and ambled his way over to her sofa, where he sprawled out. "Joining me?"

Cersei turned on her heel to close the door, her crimson skirts swirling around her. "I haven't missed you that much, brother."

"I always knew when you were lying. I still do. There's a wet patch on your dress." Cersei looked at the belly of her dress, catching Jaime smirking at her. "By your cunt," he drawled.

"Now who's missed who the most?" Still, Cersei walked over to him, her emerald eyes locked onto his as he watched her every move. "I've been so lonely here, Jaime. I need you to keep me company."

"You know father will never allow me to stay here. I come here in a fleeting visit. About to rescue my fair maiden from a night of loneliness."

"Only a night? I need you. Father is always busy, and I've never known how to talk to him. And the ladies are all fluttering about Elia while she still recovers from labour. It shouldn't take this long for her to recover from the birthing bed."

"Why don't you come back to Casterly Rock and ask our lady mother the same thing? You hate the result of the last labour she endured."

"Tyrion is a monster. He killed her. Mother, dead for him. He's a deformed-"

"He's your brother, Cersei!" Jaime shoved her arm angrily. "He's smart, and wants to know all about our family. He doesn't know why people who should love him despise him so. And I'm not being the one to explain this to him."

Cersei glared at his exasperated face. He looked disappointed in her. She had a right to hate the creature that took her mother away. And despite what the Martell's thought, Tyrion was not a baby. Not a normal baby. "I don't want to fight," she said meekly, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. Jaime came to her, as he always did. He took her in his arms, her head against his stomach, his hands entwining themselves in her hair.

"I don't want to fight either," he sighed, his calloused hands softly rubbing her scalp. Her hands knotted themselves around his waist as she breathed his scent; sea salt, sweat and honey. Jaime was always fond of honey on his food.

"I've been praying to the Warrior that you'd get here safe."

"Why do you need the Warrior?"

"I don't have a knight to protect me, to keep me company here."

"You have me." He bent down and pressed his lips to hers. Their mouths moved in tandem, before he grew more urgent. His tongue swept across her lips and her mouth opened for him, their tongues entwining in a quick, vicious dance.

Her hands tugged at his tunic, pulling it upwards – he had changed into simpler clothes to visit his sister – while his hands urgently clawed at her dress, pulling at the lace and tugging it down over her form.

They tumbled into the bed; he kissed every part of her skin as she writhed and groaned in passion underneath him. His lips trailed down his neck, to her collarbone, to her pale perfect breasts. One hand reached underneath to hold her back, the other hand trailed down to her sex and felt the wet patch there amongst the golden curls at the apex of her thighs. He groaned as he inserted two fingers inside her. She writhed underneath him, panting his name, and pulling on his hair.

He groaned her name as he bit into her neck, before he moved his hand away and hovered over her, kissing her briefly as he lined his hips with hers and thrust deep.

He collapsed on top of her some minutes later, panting, breathless, his body slick and smooth with sweat against hers. He rolled off of her to lie next to her, one hand splayed on her stomach, drawing meaningless patterns.

Cersei knew that to get what she wanted she'd have to act the innocent. She bit her lower lip and turned her emerald eyes to her twin, her hand resting on his forearm. "Jaime... we can be together. You can take the white-"

"Father would never allow it; I'm his heir."

"You are my twin – my other half. Please, I need you. The old man is on his deathbed, they'll need someone young to replace him. Who's better than the Lion of Lannister?"

"I am a Lannister, not a knight of the Kingsguard. My place is at Casterly Rock."

"Remember before I left? You said your place was by me." Tears filled Cersei's eyes as she trailed her lips over her brother's body, coming to straddle him. She curled in close to him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Jaime groaned and lifted her hips up.

That night, after the formalities of dinner with father were complete, Cersei found herself being pulled into an alcove by a strong arm. Jaime. "I'll do it. I'll take the white. For you. For us."

Cersei kissed him long and hard.

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Face claims:

I've deleted the full list, as it was distracting looking at pictures of hot actors... yeah, that's all. I'll only be updating with new characters.

New characters: (Characters in these '{ }' are flashback characters only. Some characters may not be representive of actual ages in the rest of the story.)

{Melara Heatherspoon – Mackenzie Foy.
Young(er) Cersei - Dakota Fanning Young.
Joanna Lannister - Annabelle Wallis.
Maggy the Frog – Naomie Harris (just imagine her fatter and uglier, if that's at all possible. She's what I had in mind when I was writing the character's personality and demeanour.)}

Next chapter: The White Knight of Harrenhal.

Ser Oswell Whent goes home where there is talk of a tourney.