She stood on the steps outside the Lion's Mouth entrance, amid the chaos of bellboys and servants, cooks and guards. Grooms and handmaidens and coachmen. People lifting bags down the steps and into carriages, people shouting and horses being led back and forth. She stood there in her new dress, her shoes pinching her feet, waiting for that one moment when Septa's attention was diverted by a bellboy who wasn't sure which valise went in which coach. Then, Cersei turned and fled.
There were so many people milling around, probably the entire staff of Casterly Rock, gathered to assist Lord Tywin as he left for KingsLanding, but they were all concentrating on their assigned tasks. She ran light and fast, as if she weren't wearing an elaborate hooped dress and gold-inlaid heeled slippers, but was instead barefoot and in breeches. As if the polished red-and-gold patterned tiles of the vast hall were instead a dirt track winding through the forest, or sand on a beach. Once she'd made it through the archway separating the great hall from the rest of the castle, the place was deserted.
She figured she had about five minutes before Septa noticed her missing. Maybe ten before they found her. She ran down the corridor, slipping like a shadow between the pillars.
When she reached the servant's entrance, she pulled the door open and went into the musty, dark porch. She sat on the wooden step and felt underneath it. It didn't take long to find the old boots that she kept hidden there. She'd never paid them much notice before, but now she was struck by their shabby appearance. The heels were worn and stained with grass and mud, the toes scuffed from running and climbing, riding and hunting. As Cersei held the boots in her hand, she suddenly felt unable to move. Memories of all the times she'd pulled them on and raced outside came crashing in on her. She knew she'd never wear these boots again.
By the time she came out of the servant's entrance and started walking back along the corridor the way she'd come, she felt numb. Tears had dried spidery tracks on her cheeks, but inside she was dry and empty.
There was a noise at the base of the staircase and familiar footsteps coming towards her. Cersei would know them anywhere. She stopped and waited, holding her breath.
Jaime stopped too, when he saw her. They faced each other from across the hall. Cersei realised a simple truth: The thing you least want to lose is the very thing that slips out of your hands most easily. It shouldn't be so easy, to lose something so important, she thought. But it was.
'I lost you', she said.
'You didn't lose me, Cers,' Jaime replied, with a small smile. 'I'm right here.'
He walked up to her, slowly, as if she might bolt if he made any sudden movements. Until he was standing so close they could have touched. 'They're looking for you.'
'I know.'
'I thought you'd come here.' He pointed to the servant's entrance. 'I thought you might be... running away.'
'Yeah.'
'But you didn't.'
'I still might.' Her hands clenched in the folds of her full skirt.
He fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Jaime was never good at standing still. He raised a hand to her face and awkwardly wiped the tear trails from it. 'It's gonna be weird here without you.'
Cersei bit her lip. 'I wish...' She heaved a huge sigh, looked down.
'That we could be together forever?' Jaime finished for her. 'We will be. Otherwise, nothing makes any sense.'
'Maybe it isn't meant to make sense.'
'We came into the world together. I was holding onto you, remember?' Jaime grinned. 'I'm always gonna be with you.'
'No. You aren't.'
'I am,' he insisted. He grabbed her chin and tipped her head so she had to look at him, and she saw that even though he was smiling his green eyes were wet. 'Just look at your reflection and there I'll be. Right with you.'
'Lady Cersei!' Septa spluttered with outraged relief, her footsteps echoing loud as she marched down the corridor towards them. She was flanked by two guards. 'We've been searching all over for you! Come on this instant, it's time to go!'
Outside on the steps, the sun came and went behind indecisive clouds. The whole staff contingent had assembled in the front courtyard to farewell them. She walked along the length of the gathering, next to Father, with her head down, not seeing who curtsied or bowed or saluted, seeing only her gold slippers winking with every step.
Jaime was there out the front of them all, and he had a distant look on his face. Like he'd gone away inside himself. Wherever he was, it wasn't standing stiffly to attention in the courtyard of Casterly Rock, in his finest military uniform, with a squadron of Lannister soldiers on either side.
Cersei wondered where he'd gone. If he was laying next to her on a sun-warmed rock, gazing into the clear water at their same reflections. Or in her bed with arms around her, legs tangled, hearts beating to the same rhythm. Or chasing her up a beach at night until they were breathless. Sitting face-to-face with their fingers linked, palms tight together as an unopened seed pod. Leaning over her in the dark and pressing his mouth onto hers.
'Goodbye Cersei,' Jaime said, formally.
'Goodbye Jaime,' she whispered.
Father was addressing the crowd, but his speech skipped over Cersei without sinking in. Random words dropped meaninglessly into her brain. 'Heir to Casterly Rock,' 'Responsibility,' 'Expectations,' 'Lannisters.' Then she was being escorted across the cobbled stones to the waiting carriage, the door was opened and she was climbing in. Septa and two handmaidens sat across from her in the stuffy interior, on red velvet bench seats. The door was slammed, and the only window to see out of was so small that through the square pane of glass nobody outside seemed real.
The one face that Cersei couldn't see amongst the crowd was Tyrion's. The one time she wanted to see him, and he was nowhere. The little dwarf was always laughing or smiling, as if nothing bad had ever happened to him and he couldn't imagine it ever would.
In her mind's eye, Cersei saw a replay of herself half an hour or so ago, sitting there on the step in the servant's entrance porch. She was holding her boots in her hand. Her old boots, that she knew she'd never wear again. She saw them dropping to the floor as she stood up. Walking to the wash basin, the rusty tap creaking as she turned it on, the sound of the pipes rattling, the weight of the full bucket as she pulled it up out of the sink, water sloshing onto her dress. Then over to the corner, to where the box sat half-hidden under some old coats.
The stink of milk and dog as she opened the lid. Feeling the warm fur of the puppy soft between her hands as she lifted it up, then the sudden coldness of the water as she plunged her hands down into the bucket.
'Sorry,' she'd said, her eyes blurred with tears. The squirming thing between her fingers wriggled and kicked, hard at first and then slower and slower, until after only a few minutes it just floated limply in her hands like a scrunched up rag. When she'd dried it off with a towel and put it back in the box, its paws had curled up under its chin like it was sleeping.
You will never run through the woods with Jaime and Tyrion. I can't, and neither will you. My brothers will never bond together over your training, or go hunting with you, or cuddle up to you, or tell you their secrets. 'Sorry,' she'd said, as tears ran down. But she'd felt a rush of power like fire in her chest.
Cersei's gaze searched the faces of the people gathered beneath the steps, as the driver whistled and slapped his horse's reins and the wheels of the carriage started to roll forward. Tyrion was not there, she was certain of it. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd. Where was he?
She just wanted to see his face.
The carriage rumbled down the long driveway, picking up speed, tilting as the ground sloped. Rain spattered against the roof, and shadows from scudding clouds made the stone walls look like they was moving. The castle and everyone in it receded into the distance. At the bottom of the hill the road turned and Cersei could again see the courtyard from her window.
The figures standing out front were so far away that she couldn't distinguish between them. She thought she could still see the gold of Jaime's hair, but it may have been light catching on the stones. Then the road curved around, and Casterly Rock and all its inhabitants disappeared. They were replaced by the wind-twisted shapes of trees growing along the cliff. The flattened sea-grass and the grey sky.
Cersei kept looking through the window, not seeing the landscape rushing past outside but only the image of herself in the glass.
Septa leaned forward. She placed a hand on the girl's knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'I know you're sad, my dear, because you love your home, and your brothers. But this is the start of a whole new life for you. Just wait until you see KingsLanding! The Red Keep, The Great Sept of Balor, Visenya's Hill, the Royal family! Oh, you'll be amazed. You'll forget all about the childish loves you had to leave behind.'
No. Cersei stared harder at her reflection. I don't think so.
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Author's note: Thank you to all reviewers and readers especially TheVillianStratigist for writing such an indepth analysis right at the start, and analith and sophie for being nice and inspiring me. I plan on writing another Lannister story soon, but I'm still deciding which disturbing time in their lives to tackle. There are too many to choose from. Cheers
