5th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell

Queen Cersei Baratheon

A trial, a trial, a damned trial, that was what she was being led toward. She could not believe, she a Queen of Westeros, was being tried for something that should see her being thanked for. The Stark girl was the threat here, not her, Cersei had only done as she hoped would have ended the threat of the prophecy. The girl was sat there next to her mother , seemed to be safe and sound. It grated on her, it angered her that the girl was not down here waiting to answer for the crimes that she herself had committed. It angered her that the girl seemed to be safe and sound, whilst she was going to be put on trial for something that was not a crime. By the gods, they were cruel, so very cruel, to allow the girl to get away whilst she was here.

The great hall of Winterfell is teeming with people, lords and ladies, great and small alike have come here to witness this trial. Anger boils inside her at this thought, something that she feels she is justified in feeling. That the Starks would have the audacity to bring their lords here, gods she hopes her father is made aware of this. She looks at the high table where her fat oaf of a husband the king and the other two judges, Lord Wyman Manderly another fat man, and Lord Eddard Stark are seated. The whispering of the crowd falls silent as her husband opens his mouth.

Her husband speaks. "Thank you all for coming. Before us we have Queen Cersei Baratheon, my lady wife, and mother to my children. My Queen, do you know why you are here and the accusations brought before you?"

Cersei looks at her husband anger flowing through her. "I know the accusations are false and without base. A plan by the Starks to overthrow me and my family to ensnare you to their false ways." A murmur of anger ripple across the hall at this.

"And why do you think these accusations are false my queen? Do you deny attacking the Lady Sansa, your son's betrothed within her own home and coming close to killing her?" her husband asks.

Cersei feels anger rise inside her. "No I do not deny those charges, but there is a valid reason for my doing so."

"And what reasons are these my queen? What you have done is a grave offense." Her husband says.

"She was plotting to have her family brought within the sphere of court. She was trying to threaten my position. The whole reason she wanted to marry within Winterfell to ensure that the north's influence was predominant." Cersei snarls.

There is a whisper around the hall, and then Lord Stark speaks. "And what proof do you have for these accusations my queen?"

Cersei looks at the man and says. "My eyes and ears know when there are plots going on my lord. And your good sister was most apparent in her hatred of my family. It does not take a wise man to know that similar hatreds would exist here. All know of your hatred of my father."

There are more whisperings about the court, but they fall silent when her husband speaks. "You do not have enough proof to be making these accusations Cersei. Now we shall hear from the victim herself. Lady Sansa if you would come forward to speak please."

The hall begins whispering once more as the Lady Sansa walks down, Cersei glowers at the girl but she does not cower, instead she holds her head up high and says. "Thank you for asking me here today Your Grace. I promise to tell the truth and nothing but the truth."

Cersei sees her husband nod appreciatively. "Very good my lady. Now would you please tell us what happened between you and the Queen?"

Cersei looks at the girl and sees that there is a fire in the girl's eyes as she speaks. "I was in my own room minding my own business, when the Queen came barging into my room, demanding I answer for my crimes. I did not know what she was speaking of and said as much to her. She did not take that well and began screaming and threatening me, and as such she dragged me by my hair and pulled me out of my room. All the while she was muttering about how she would not allow me to do something that would harm her. I did not know what she was speaking of, nor what would happen to me. I was terrified, and then I was saved by Prince Joffrey."

There is a murmur at this, and Cersei feels her heart drop. Her son, her sweet son who has turned on her. Gods where did she go wrong. Her husband speaks then his tone ominous. "And what happened when Prince Joffrey came?"

"He ordered Ser Jaime to escort the Queen back to her chambers and comforted me and ensured I was well, he then led me to my father's solar where we spoke to you, Your Grace." The girl says, her voice beginning to shake.

"Why do you not speak of how your direwolf attacked me Sansa?" Cersei snarls.

There is some murmuring amongst the hall then, but the king speaks. "Enough. Joffrey come forth and speak."

Her son walks down then, his hair glittering golden in the light. He is a bull her son, all muscle, some have said he looks like Maegor the Cruel from the portraits in the Red Keep. She wonders, perhaps she did not spend enough time with him when he was younger, for she knows the words he will speak before he speaks them. Her son looks at her a moment, and there is such loathing in his eyes she feels her heart break. Her son takes a breath and then says. "I can confirm what Lady Sansa has says Your Grace. I came upon my mother the Queen verbally and physically attacking the lady without cause for provocation. She only stopped when I intervened, otherwise I fear to think of what might have happened otherwise."

She looks at her son and feels a deep sadness envelop her person at his betrayal, as well as a sense of anger toward him for this. Her husband merely looks at her son for a moment before asking. "And what were you doing walking toward the Lady Sansa's room?"

Her son looks at the king a moment and then says. "I was going to ask if she wanted to go for a walk of the gardens Your Grace."

Her husband merely nods and then turns to her. "How do you respond my Queen?"

Cersei is silent a long moment, allowing the crowd gathered in the hall to begin muttering amongst themselves, before she says. "I believe these accusations to be false. But seeing as you will not listen to sense, I demand for the Gods to judge my innocence. I demand a trial by combat."

Ser Jaime Lannister

The hall was muttering, there was a sense of something big about to happen. Jaime, who had been standing with his fellow Kingsguard as the trial had progressed had felt a sense of growing unease as his sister had begun speaking. She was not speaking clearly, and had not truly seemed to make sense. Something was wrong, and he did not know what. But he had not hesitated when she had named him her champion. Lord Stark, the old man was to be fighting for his daughter, and Jaime was confident he would be able to beat the man, he was after all the best swordsman in the realm. As he moved toward the centre of the great hall, he looks at Stark, to see him stretching, he smiles to himself thinking of how Stark will be easy to beat. His thoughts stop for a moment as he looks toward the high table where the king is sat, the man is not drunk surprisingly, but there is an ire to him that Jaime has never seen before. His voice is loud and clear when he says. "Now, the terms of this trial are simple, you fight until one surrenders. No killing one another. Whoever wins this fight, the person they are fighting for will see their claims validated in the eyes of the gods. Should Ser Jaime win, then Queen Cersei is acquitted of all crimes, and should Lord Eddard win, well then Queen Cersei shall face the judgement of Lord Stark. Is that agreeable?" Jaime nods and sees Stark nod. The king pauses a moment and then says. "Then begin."

Jaime and Stark both bow before the king before moving back to take their positions. He looks at Stark and senses that there is an anger within the man, an anger that might make him a more difficult proposition than he had first thought. The man draws his sword, the sword Ice, Jaime looks at it and feels envy as he pulls his own sword out of its sheath, the thing glinting in the light. They circle one another, neither willing to break speed first, his heart is hammering in his chest, for he knows what rests on this fight. There is a moment's pause and then Jaime his patience running out lunges. Stark moves back and Jaime's sword hits the ground, he quickly pulls back and then finds himself facing a barrage of assault from Stark. It is as if the man is possessed, swinging his sword throwing his weight behind the swings. Jaime blocks a few of them, and finds himself wincing as the sword strikes his armour the rest of the time. Stark does not seem to be relenting, his swings come in force now, pushing Jaime further and further back in the hall. He can hear the murmuring of the northern lords, as they sense something else. Jaime hears his father's voice, stern and uncompromising and in that he finds the strength to feint and then begin his own series of attacks.

Stark might be bigger and stronger, but Jaime is quicker, and so he uses that to his advantage. Ducking and feinting he pushes Stark back to where he feels most comfortable and then with a swing and a miss he begins the process of destroying the man's defences. He ducks and feints, swings and slashes, manoeuvring around the room to the point where his feet can begin the dance of war. Jaime swings his sword and hears the screech of steel on steel, a sound he thought he would never hear once more, and yet it is music to his ears. The swords dance around one another, singing for their owners. Jaime begins pushing through the man's defences, swinging and slashing, he grins as he sees dents begin to appear in Stark's armour, the face of the man in front grimacing in pain. Gods this is a good feeling, the ability to push through the man's defences is something Jaime relishes. His sword comes away denting the man's armour and shedding blood. Now this would normally mean the end of the duel and a victory for him, but he knows he needs to make Stark surrender, and so he keeps hammering away. Stark it seems is not tiring though, instead he continues pushing through and fighting back. Jaime's own body is covered with dents and bruises, and he knows that sooner or later one will have to give in, and yet he is determined not to be that person. On they go, dancing around one another, slicing and slashing, blood being drawn, Jaime knows the old man is tiring, for he himself is also beginning to tire, and yet still they continue.

His sword is slick with blood, and so the rush continues, fighting through the pain of his wounds, he swings and slashes, cutting and hacking. Jaime is determined not to fall foul of this fight, not now, not to the man who killed Ser Arthur. It is that thought that enters his mind and makes him wonder if perhaps this is the right move to make. Surely fighting Stark is not a good idea, the doubt begins creeping inside his mind and mistakes are made. He misses a feint from Stark and finds a searing pain begin to enter his mind. Gods it hurts, the pain and the agony, his thoughts begin to blur into one another as the fear of this thing he is fighting begins to push its way through. Stark begins to overwhelm him, and his sword begins to fly from his hand. Jaime looks at Stark, and Stark looks back at him and then they are lunging at one another. Men fighting in a brawl where swords might have been better, he feels fists hitting him again and again, his face beginning to bleed through, he finds his arms are unable to rise to the challenge and slowly but surely the will to keep fighting disappears. His voice his hoarse when he says. "Surrender, I surrender."

Stark hits him once more before standing up then. Jaime is left lying on the ground, his face a blur, his mind a blur, unable to know clearly where he is. He does not hear the judgement but he knows it is bad when he hears his sister scream. He sighs then, for he knows he has failed. By the gods he has failed once more.