AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys. This chapter ends the first part of this fanfiction, that I see as a very long Prologue. After this one, I will introduce Part II and action will jump to 277 AC and will focus mainly on events taking place at King's Landing and Duskendale. I guess you know what is coming (always with a lot of twists, of course). So, please, let me know if you are enjoying this story through your reviews or PM's: it really fuels my energy to write! Any suggestions are welcome, as always! Ah, and if anyone is interested in beta-reading, let me also know. I struggle with my English every time I write, even though I feel I made some progresses. Thank you.

CERSEI II

276 AC

The sound of laughter came down the corridor as she approached the nursery.

She was not used to walking that wing of the castle. At least, not after Mother had placed her on chambers on the other side of the Rock, separating her from Jaime's bed. Joanna Lannister had suspected their affection from early on, probably after hearing a rumor or two from a noisy maid. Even so, she had the vague memory of her quarters being here somewhere when she was a little child. Cersei couldn't remember which door precisely. Yet, there was one she would never forget, the very same one now filled with laughter. The memory she had of that room was tainted by other sounds. Screams and crying. It was there Mother had died.

Reaching the door, she peeked him, silently, spying on her siblings.

Jaime was playing with the little monster.

He is not alone.

Tyrion had just celebrated his third name day. He was still of the size of a little baby, even though he had learned how to walk and say a few words. The devilish creature was playing with a dragon-shaped toy, throwing it to Jaime with his little vigorous hands. And they laughed, as Jaime ran after the dwarf, threatening to catch him as if he was a big dragon himself. Cyrilla, the maid tending to the child's need, was chuckling, knitting on a chair by the window.

And there she was too, playing with them as if she was their sister.

Melara.

Septa Sarnella had warned her about the girl just moments ago. Her friend was growing bold as her breasts started filling inside her dresses. They could have the same age, she and Melara, but her friend was prettier in her own way, and her body was developing at a quicker pace than hers. And the girl knew that. Of course she knew.

I will take care of the problem, my lady.

Luckily, Septa Saranella usual answered her prayers.

Putting her best smile, Cersei pushed the door firmly to announce herself.

The laughter died away instantly as if she wasn't allowed to be part of their games. Tyrion stopped laughing, his mouth wide open and his arms raised in mid-motion. He looked at her, curiosity gleaming in his misshaped face, trying to understand who she was. He could even look like any other child if he hadn't an enormous head and eyes with mismatched colors. A shiver ran through her body.

Jaime caught Tyrion in his arms, and had a final laugh, before delivering him to Cyrilla's arms. Melara, as if caught in the act, had lowered her head and hidden her smirk. Like the coward she was, the stepped back, trying to disappear in the shadows. The little rat knows she shouldn't be here, Cersei noted to herself, dispensing a brief glance to her friend.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Cersei said, glancing around the small room. The bed where Mother had died in a pool of blood was gone, burnt by Father's orders after Mother was buried in the Hall of Heroes.

"You are certainly not," Jaime said, a nervous smile dancing suddenly on his lips. He pushed the hair hiding his blushing face. "Tyrion, do you know who this is?"

Back on Cyrilla's arms, Tyrion pressed his eyes on Cersei. She hadn't seen the baby for months. It seemed he had grown up considerably since then, and there was mischief in his gleam that wasn't there before. Someday he will be the death of us all, she thought somberly.

"Cicy," Tyrion mumbled, pointing his dragon toward her.

Melara laughed again, incapable of controlling herself. Jaime smirked also, exchanging an alarming look of complicity with the girl. The way Tyrion had spoken the word sounded like sissy.

What a disgusting little creature.

She sniffed, averting her eyes from the little beast once again. Jaime, on the other hand, was still smiling, as if the dwarf had said the cleverest thing ever.

"Can I have a word with you in private?" She intervened, coldly.

Melara moved uncomfortably from her place in the shadows. Cersei sensed her and knew her friend wanted to speak out loud, probably to tail along. But she wouldn't give her that chance. Throwing a cold smile to the maid and Melara, she stepped out of the room.

"When you please, brother."

Jaime made her wait for almost a minute. He was not the fool he believed himself to be. Despite all the efforts she was making to hide her irritation, he had under covered the feelings she was trying to veil. From the corridor, Cersei heard him saying his goodbyes to Tyrion, promising to return soon enough with another toy or two. Cyrilla the maid thanked him and wished him good travels before her brother finally left the room to face her.

"He may be our brother, but you don't have to visit him or bring toys," Cersei told him as soon he walked out of the room. "Must I remind you that the little beast killed or Mother? Besides, Father still believes he won't survive childhood."

"You are right," Jaime said, closing the door behind him not to be heard. "He is our brother. I'm just trying to act as an older brother should."

"You almost sound like Uncle Tyg. He is the only one who loves the Imp."

Cersei rolled her eyes and turned his back to him, walking down the corridor.

"Am I supposed to follow you, sister?" He asked, also giving up any effort to hide how miserable he felt.

"I told you I wanted to talk with you privately." She replied, curtly. The corridor may be deserted, but maids could be behind doors doing laundry or cleaning. "This is not private."

Jaime made an annoying sound but followed her without hesitation.

"So, I suppose you heard the news." He said, quickening his pace to accompany her.

"Yes." She replied, climbing down a set of stairs. "I also heard Melara Hetherspoon is trying to climb to your bed before you leave. Is that true?"

Jaime laughed, like an idiotic child. He always knows how to get under my nerves. For the first time in a while, she had no time to think twice. Her body made a decision before letting her consider the consequences. She stopped on her heels and turned back, raising her arm to strike him in the face. He was ready for it, though. He had provoked on purpose to force her to act in such a way. No one could read her better than him. As if she nothing but a nuisance, he grabbed her arm and pushed her against his chest. The stair was narrow, but they managed to balance on the same step.

"Who is jealous now?" He whispered, caressing her face with his warm breath.

"You are a fool," Cersei said, trying to free herself from his grip. "Do you truly believe I'm jealous of a serving girl?"

"You can't lie to me." Jaime acknowledged, still smiling. His mouth was incredibly close to hers, the same mouth that had smirked when the king had refused to marry her to the prince. The same mouth she wanted to kiss. His lips moved again, and the way they did was almost harmful. "You are jealous of Melara Hetherspoon."

"I'm not." Cersei insisted, finally managing to get ready of Jaime's grip. "Melara Hetherspoon will be nothing more than a bedwarmer."

It was Jaime who started walking away now.

"Well, I'm too tired to fight, Cersei. And I swear I'm not interested in the Hetherspoon girl. She has been following me lately. But I don't care for her Truly. She is too much needy, always trying to please me in any way she can."

Worms will have your maidenhead. Her friend must be aware of Maggy's prophecy. In fact, the only thing in her mind must be a way to lose her virginity to prove how fate was wrong. A stable boy or even a squire could have easily taken her to bed and do the deed. They would even thank the little whore for being so generous. But Melara wanted what life hadn't given to her, and she wanted it desperately. The little fool actually believed it was possible to bed the heir of Casterly Rock and become his wife.

"I'm glad you think that way," Cersei said, following him down the staircase. "It would be a pity if you were to fall into her schemes. She has bled already, you know… Father would never forgive you if you were to leave the Rock leaving her pregnant with a bastard."

"Yes, I'm sure that has kept you worried all those nights you have refused to see me." He said, mocking her. "I suppose you wanted to see me so we could mend the time we were apart?"

"Yes." She replied, sighing. "Of course."

They continued down the staircase until they reached the Lion Mane's Bridge, the one that connected to the residential part of the castle. No word had been exchanged about where they were going because both of them knew. Besides two guards and a maid, they didn't meet anyone on their way to her chambers. Aunt Genna was certainly busy downstairs, still giving orders to the servants, making sure the feast of that night would be a success. Father had given orders to dine with his family one last time before leaving to the capital. And Septa Sarnella, who usually stayed in her chambers or praying in the sept, was away on the yard making certain arrangements.

"Did you know?" Jaime asked, after a few seconds, breaking the silence.

"No." She replied, somberly. There was doubt in his eyes when he looked at her sideways. "I knew something would happen. Father had to send you away to become a man, but—."

Jaime nodded, assuming his defeat.

"But he is sending me to the fucking Stormlands." He said, shaking his head. "I will be gone for some time."

"Lord Baratheon is a good friend of Father." Cersei reminded him. They had met the lord of Storm's End briefly in the past when Mother had taken them to court for a week. Besides, Aunt Genna loved to tell them stories, and many of those had regarded the friendships Father had made in his time at King's Landing. "It will do you good. You can befriend the Baratheons. Get that knighthood. Next time we meet, I'm sure you will be a knight… and I will be a princess."

"A princess? Please, Cersei, not this again." He said, irritated. "The king rejected Father's proposal. I don't think he will go back on his word. Things got ugly between the two of them. You saw how everyone seemed strange when we got back from Lannisport."

The king is not the answer, she thought.

"I won't give up." She stated, very directly. "And neither will Father. I asked him yesterday to take me with him to King's Landing."

Jaime grew pale at the sound of those words.

"To the capital? You want to leave home?"

"I'm ready for court." She claimed, raising her chin. "But Father doesn't want to take me there just yet." His expression smoothed immediately. "He said it isn't the right time. The king has been acting strange lately, probably with some kind of sickness. In fact, he mentioned this was the reason why he was sending you to Storm's End. To show the king how his good friends are still at his side, working together for the future of the realm." She sniffed, trying to be patient, even though it was not easy. "In a few months, I will join Father in the Red Keep. He believes I can still marry the Prince, but he has some work to do with the king first. Persuade him once more to accept me as his daughter-in-law. Forcing me into court at this time could mislead the king, make him believe Father was trying to defy him."

Jaime shook his head again, reprovingly.

"So, Father is using us as pieces in his little game."

"I'm glad he is," Cersei replied. Maybe Jaime was not so smart as she had believed in to be earlier. "He is the one playing the game for now."

"You talk like you don't care."

"I do care, Jaime." She replied. "That's why I'm willing to wait. One day, when our time comes, we will be in positions of power thanks to Father and his moves. And then… Then we will be powerful to love without shame. How many times must I say this to you? We have a game to play and we have to play it as Father wishes. We have to play it smart and with the right players."

"You may be right." Jaime stopped on his heels now. "But are we willing to pay the price?"

"If you love me, you will play it." She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is the only way we could be together and safe in the future."

"You rely a lot on the power of a crown. The world will always judge our love."

"Then, we will smash the world, brother." She smiled, and more than ever she felt powerful. "Just because some day we can smash it like this." She snapped her fingers, right in front of her eyes.

"You scare me when you talk like this," Jaime said, and he seemed genuinely scared as he looked into her eyes. "You seem even colder than Father."

"Colder?" Cersei grabbed his hand, softly. "I'm not colder, Jaime. I'm burning inside and I won't stop until we are free to love." She moved his hand beneath her skirt, leading his finger once again inside her. They were still on the corridor outside her chamber, but she didn't care. "Our future is written since the day we were born together into this world." She continued, mysteriously. His fingers were inside her now and she kept pushing him. He had opened his mouth, lost in shock and pleasure, melting before her fire. "See how I burn? I burn for us…" She licked his ear with the point of her tongue. "And I'm ready."

There was no time to be apart now. She clashed against his body, and his arms enveloped her immediately. For the first time since the Tournament, she felt safe again. It was all she needed to be happy, she thought, closing her eyes.

"I'm going to miss you, Cersei." He whispered, grabbing her face to kiss her lips once again.

"Then let us make sure you take with you something impossible to forget."

Dawn came with the sky tinged with red.

From the window in her chamber, Cersei watched the party leaving Casterly Rock. Dozens of horses marched down the road, bounded to the East. The banner of the Lannisters gleamed right ahead, being nothing more than a small red point disappearing slowly from afar.

Jaime was among the ones leaving through the Lion's Mouth. A part of her walked away with him, but a part of him stayed behind with her. The memory of their encounter, just a few hours ago, was now branded into her skin, and it wouldn't fade, not for a thousand years. A timid tear ran down her face, as she pressed herself against the window glass.

Someone knocked at the door.

Septa Sarnella entered the room slowly, bringing with her the mug. Usually, she would come to her bedroom an hour later, but not that day. They had to do something, preferably while Aunt Genna was still sleeping.

"Have you slept, my lady?" Sarnella walked, sitting in the empty chair in front of Cersei. She passed her the mug. The tea was still hot. Vapor emerged from it, casting different shapes in the cold air.

"Yes, septa." She said, accepting the drink. "Thank you."

"May the Mother bless you, my dear." The septa said, turning her eyes from Cersei to the group on the road. They were almost gone.

Sarnella served at Casterly Rock since Cersei was three-years-old. With a skin darker than usual, she was an exotic thing. It seemed she had ascendants from Essos, thus explaining her fluency in High Valyrian and her knowledge of the world. Around fifty-years-old, she still preserved part of her beauty under her garments and veils. She may be a woman of the Faith now, but before she had had her past. A woman's past. Maybe that was the reason why she served Cersei with such loyalty. And because a Lannister always pays their debts, and Septa Sarnella was smart enough to know she would be well rewarded in due time.

Cersei drank the tea. It had a bitter taste, but she didn't care. Her moon blood had not come yet but had decided to take precautions. Sarnella didn't know who had claimed her maidenhead but was attentive enough to suspect the truth.

"And you, septa?" Cersei asked, sniffing. "I hope you have slept well."

"I have, my lady," Sarnella confirmed, with half a smile. "Even though I was terribly distressed with the news."

"Yes, dreadful news," Cersei confirmed, sipping once more. "The feast was ruined, I'm afraid. After all the time Aunt Genna spent arranging things—"

"Yes, indeed. It is a pity." Sarnella didn't smile this time. She was expressionless, her face like one of the statues of the Mother on the sept.

"How did it happen? Do we know already?"

"Well, they are still investigating it." Sarnella pressed, just as calm as ever. "But a few bottles of wine were missing from the cellars. Maester Ullun will soon analyze her body, of course… But I daresay it is almost certain the foolish girl got drunk and fell on the well, drowning to death. A terrible way to go, for sure."

Cersei shook her head, the somber of a smile on her lips.

"Dreadful."

Worms will have your maidenhead.

"Tell me, septa. I was wondering… Do you know what it means the word vemaynar?"

"Vemaynar, my lady?"

"I believe it comes from the High Valyrian."

"Yes, it is High Valyrian." Septa Sarnella said, grabbing the mug now empty on Cersei's hands. "If I'm not wrong, it means Herald of Truth. Like a justice officer."

"An executioner?"

"The executioner applies the sentence. The right word for that is verdaynar. But the term vem means Truth, just as aynar means Herald. So, the Herald of Truth would be the right translation. Someone who points out the truth or who accuses someone of a crime. It's a term often heard in the judging houses of Volantis."

"Yes. I believe I heard it from a merchant down in Lannisport."

Septa Sarnella looked at her as if not believing that lie but abstained of any further comments.

And then, the vemaynar will march from the shadows to point a pale finger at you and unveil what you try to hide.

If Melara's prophecy had come to form – with a little push from her side, yes, but nonetheless it had proved to be real – it was almost sure her bit of the prophecy would also manifest in her future. Or maybe not.

"Anyway, I must wear black," Cersei said, standing from her chair. The group down the road was gone. "Melara was a dear friend, and way too young to die in such a way."

END OF PART I