The warm sun shewn into the stone halls of the Red Keep, illuminating Cersei's bedroom through the lavender silk curtains which flowed freely in the lovely morning breeze, bringing in the scent of the salty sea. Cersei laid snugly under the blankets, covering her from her feet to her belly, where her head, shoulders, and breasts were uncovered, and a little newborn baby rested on her chest, wrapped in a little blue blanket, suckling from her breast. Jaime lay in bed besides Cersei, eyes fixated on the infant, his son, stroking his thin head of golden hair, a warm smile strewn across his face, matching his sister's own smile.
"He's perfect." Cersei whispered softly, cradling the cooing newborn and watching as it's little body rose and fell as her chest grew and shrunk with every breath. Jaime looked up at his sister, the loving, fatherly smile he had slowly faded, and he blinked, and his eyes no longer bright, his lips rolled together and frowned, eyelids growing wide, and brow lowering. He glared at Cersei, and suddenly the room's warmth started to make way for an icy cold that crept in through the windows, along the floor, and into her bones.
"Hmph." Jaime grunted, throwing the blankets off of himself, and in a flash was clad in his suit of red and gold lion armour, the sword Widow's Wail at his side. He scooted off the side of the bed and stood, looking back at Cersei, a scowl overtaking his face as he looked down upon her. She gripped their son and brought him under the blankets away from this intrusive cold, then looked on in sorrow as Jaime turned away and stomped towards the door, kicking it open without care, and storming out of the room. As soon as her brother disappeared into the halls, the sun fell rapidly, but the moon never rose, leaving the queen in utter darkness, her nose and fingers as cold as ice as she desperately covered herself, shivering and rubbing her hands together.
"Jaime?" She called, her voice echoing unnaturally through the thick black abyss that surrounded her. She instantly regretted opening her mouth, as a cacophony of growls, snarls, shrieks, and screams pierced her eardrums, the noise was loud and terrifying, it bore down on Cersei from all directions, and the little baby started to cry. Footsteps of many bodies came charging towards her, vulnerable in her bed. The stench of death filled her nostrils, that of rot and decay, and the screeching mass of horrible monsters was upon her! Cersei screamed and held her wailing child tightly as the covers were ripped off of her, exposing her body to the frosty air, and then sharp, bony fingers clawed and grasped at her sensitive flesh. Their icy grip tore at her arms, reaching hungrily for the vulnerable baby! Cersei cried her brother's name over and over again as these creatures bit, scratched and pulled her body apart, the baby being pulled from her grasp, it's wailing intensifying for a few moments before being snuffed into silence. "Jaime! Jaime! Jaime!" She shrieked. The pain of her mutilation dulled, so did the cacophony of the dead, so did her dream, and the world reformed itself around her.
Cersei jolted upwards in a panicked sweat! She scanned the room as if she was still dreaming, still in a numb daze from her deep sleep. She panted profusely, confused and delirious, but her room was as bright as day, and chilled from the cold winter air outside, very different from the queen's bed, which was warmed with hot coals the night before.
"Damned milk of the poppy..." Cersei sighed, blaming her ordeal on the pain numbing medicine given to her last night by Qyburn. The pain in her belly was no more. An acute stomach ache as Qyburn had diagnosed it seems. But when Cersei tried to slide out of bed, her leg trailed across a gross, warm, slimy substance soaked into her sheets. Perplexed, she threw the covers off, and beheld a terrible sight. There was a thick, bloody, gelatinous mass sitting between her legs. Cersei winced and tried to pull away in disgust, but the bloody, puss-covered mess followed her, and that was when she felt it. Strands of tissue connected to the blob from inside her vagina. She let panic overtake her, and violently flung herself out of bed, collapsing on the cold stone floor, the strands of tissue breaking away from her, leaving the mass on her bed. Cersei sprung upward, getting her body away from the icy touch of the floor, and slipping her feet into a fuzzy set of slippers. She looked at the pink and red blob once more and felt a cold sweat form at the back of her neck. She quickly threw on her bed robe and swung the door open to the halls of the Red Keep, stumbling out in a fit.
"My queen!" Exclaimed one of her guards, clad in armour of black and silver. Cersei met his gaze with wide, crazed eyes.
"Bring Qyburn to me now!" She barked, the guard immediately complying and sprinting down the hallway. Cersei dared not look back into her room, she shivered fearfully, looking over to Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, standing in the same position as he has been since last night, watching protectively over his queen. She moved closer to him, her most loyal Queensguard knight, as if he could somehow protect her from what she feared most.
What was in reality a couple of minutes felt like hours for Cersei. She quivered and trembled like a little girl, almost succumbing to her childish desire to cower behind the Mountain and hold onto him tightly. Soon enough, Qyburn turned the corner with the guard she had sent, and both of them scurried towards the quivering queen.
"Is there something wrong, your grace!?" Qyburn asked in a fit, his wrinkled face warped with concern. Cersei meekly pointed into her chambers, finger twitching in apprehension.
"P-please don't let it be true." Cersei stammered, following the grandmaester into the room and urging him to inspect the horrific blob of tissue that slid from her innards in her sleep. He leaned over the bed and slipped his bag of tools off his shoulder, reaching his weathered fingers within and removing a pair of tweezers. Qyburn lowered himself to one knee and inspected the bloody mass, poking and prodding it with the tweezers, pulling it apart, separating layers of flesh with sickening squelches, and there he spotted something that made his face go white.
"Umm. Your grace..." He mumbled, reaching his hand out into the pile of slime and grabbing something between his fingers. "I-I'm afraid you've..." Qyburn paused, unable to speak as he pulled out a tiny pink fetus, barely the size of his thumb. Cersei's heart sank and she immediately fell to her knees, tears welling up and freely flowing from her squinting eyes. Her anguish filled her body, from the heart outwards, and she buried her face in the sheets. "Miscarried." Qyburn stated as the chambers and the halls and the entire Red Keep filled with the wails of Cersei's broken heart, and the endless, maddened calls for her love.
"Jaime! Jaime! Jaime!"