SANSA
Queen Cersei was missing for six days. On the fifth day, having assumed she wandered into the brush in her stupefied state and was eaten by coyotes or Northmen, Vice King Tyrion had the castle bells rung. The smallfolk commented on what a half-assed ringing it had been, and they were not mistaken. Tyrion had decided Grand Maester Pycelle, who was Cersei's "biggest fan," should be the one to ring. The old medicine man's withered claws could barely even get a grip on the rope, and so the ringing to commemorate Cersei's life was pretty underwhelming.
"Like it were rung by a halfwit," said one of the halfwits that inhabited Flea Bottom.
But on the sixth day, to everyone's horror, Cersei returned. She strolled casually in through the Lion Gate, still dripping and red but now also covered in leaves and other debris. And Sansa Stark, having done relatively little but sleep since her lord husband had surprised her with the little pouch of mushrooms, was summoned to meet with the queen immediately. She fretted in her little tower, nervously trying on different dresses and jewelry, hoping for a combo that by some accident of light and color might soothe Cersei's rage.
"I didn't even know she'd been flayed," Ser Loras admitted as he led Sansa from her tower across the yard of the Red Keep. "They never should have started eating those mushrooms."
"What... are the mushrooms?" Sansa asked carefully. It dawned on her that she had no idea.
Loras shook his head in disgust. "It's drugs," he said wretchedly. "They get into your mind and change everything. They make you go crazy. By the way, do you have any of those mushrooms left?"
"No, King Joffrey ate all the ones my lord husband gave me."
"Damn," Loras said pissily. "Well, tell the queen I said hi. Actually, don't tell her anything about me. She creeps me out so bad. Maybe luck is on my side and she completely forgot I exist while she was out there in the wilderness for six days going crazy." Ser Loras sketched Sansa a salute and then turned and strode off, leaving her standing before the castle's main entrance. The guards ushered her inside, and a septon met her in the foyer.
"She's gone crazy as shit," the septon warned, wringing his hands together. "She's talking about... some really weird stuff. Just tune her out, sweetheart, if you can. I suspect the queen will die soon. Couldn't even really tell you how she survived the flaying, except that she was obviously running on high-octane hate. Well, the hate is running out. She's only got fumes left, and now she wants to talk to you. To apologize."
Sansa was stunned. She thanked the septon and, more nervous than ever, climbed the stairs to Queen Cersei's solar. She knocked timidly on the door and waited.
"Is that my dear Sansa," croaked a voice from inside the room.
"It's me," Sansa confirmed.
"Come inside."
She let herself in and closed the door behind her. She kept her eyes shut all the while. She did not wish to look upon the flayed queen.
"I want to reintroduce myself to you, Sansa. I am no longer Cersei Lannister. That foul creature has died."
Sansa opened her eyes. "I heard you had a pretty interesting experience with that mushroom," she said. Queen Cersei stood up from her bloodied bed and went to the window, where she stood looking at the horizon.
"My name is now Wendi Shasta Leary."
"Oh?" Sansa asked politely.
"God spoke to me. We're all characters in a novel."
Sansa thought for a moment. Then she said, "Nah."
"No, we really are. The Eye Machine could not perceive untruths. I saw the man who wrote the story. He looked like if a fruit fly turned into a big, dumpy man wearing a mariner's hat. He was god of our reality. But there is another. An outsider who perverts the story on something called... the internet."
"Your Grace—"
"Oh no, none of that, Sansa. I am queen of nothing but ashes and fools. My honorific is dead. Speak it not."
"All right... Lady Leary. But how can you know this is all true? What if it was just... a hallucination? What about the established gods of our realms? The Seven?"
"The Eye Machine could not perceive untruths. The fruit fly man dreamed up the Seven just as he dreamed up you and me."
"What does that mean?"
Wendi Shasta Leary laid a bloody hand on Sansa's shoulder. Sansa fought the urge to squirm and was successful.
"It means nothing matters," she told the girl with terrible gravity. It was the only and final message; the last thing Wendi Shasta Leary could give to her world.
"Do you have any of those mushrooms left?" Sansa said.