Cersei
'This is not how things should have gone.'
She was seated in one of the private rooms that she'd decided to make her own early into her marriage to Robert when it had been made to clear to her he had no interest in having her by his side. The queen was resting on a finely carved chair with a high back and padded with the finest cotton from the Reach; despite her hatred for the Tyrells she wasn't about to harm herself by refusing to enjoy the comforts their lands could provide. Several servants hurried about pouring wine for her guests while a minstrel in the back strummed on a lute or something of the like, for Cersei had never been one to try and remember what each instrument was. Life, after all, was filled with so much information and she preferred to keep her mind clear rather than fill it with rubbish like Tyrion was prone to do. Her father too, for that matter. Both of them loved to gather facts and information and pile them into their braisn which was such a waste; they only did it because one was an ugly dwarf and the other an old man. It was the same reason that she didn't bother to learn the names of those that were trying to gain favor with her. If they actually managed to do something worthy of her attention then she would honor them with learning their names but until then why waste her time and energy?
Still… as she sat there, swirling her 4th cup of wine and debating if she should indulge in another cream puff she couldn't help but feel that once more life was no going to way it should have been.
Glancing to her left she raised an eyebrow towards the Westerlander woman that was standing next to her, doing her best to look casual but failing. Utterly failing. Clearly she craved attention from her betters and the Queen was willing to give it… as she had been far too quiet and wanted to remind those she had gathered that she was there and should always be the focus on their attention (until she didn't want to be because something she grew so weary of their adulation).
"When I was younger one of the old women my father kept around to watch over me and Jaime once told me that the Gods hate those who show arrogance. Did you ever hear that?"
"I did," the brown haired lady (she was the wife of… someone… Cersei couldn't keep track of who was coming in and out of the castle in order to watch her darling baby boy marry that loose cunt) told her, tilting her head slightly in Cersei's direction. "I think it is a requirement of all castles to have one old woman that prattles on like that."
"Hmmm," Cersei said, deciding she rather liked that comment. It was a rather clever observation… and the more she thought about it the more she was sure she must have thought that at some point and this woman was merely parroting back her own words to her. Yes… yes, that had to have been what happened and that annoyed Cersei because she didn't like it at all when people tried to pass her own clever thoughts off as their own! She was the one who had said… said… the thing about… old servants needing to…
She looked down at her wine glass and was startled to see it was empty again. Why weren't they pouring her more than a trickle?
"Another," she commanded the server before turning to the woman she'd been talking to, vaguely recalling she was annoyed with her about… something… but unable to remember what. "There was an old woman who served in Casterly Rock, though what she actually did other than disgust me with her wrinkled face and crud-covered lips I can't recall, who always told me that the Gods hate people with arrogance. I swear, every castle has a woman that preaches something like that. Must come with them like maesters."
"Yes, your grace," the other woman said.
"Horrid woman. Always poking that crooked nose in where it didn't belong. Scolding me because I didn't behave as she thought I should! Who is she to judge me? She was common trash and I mean that in the most literal sense. Why, her speaking to me like that it… it is treasonous! I should have her head."
"Wouldn't she already be dead, your grace?"
Cersei paused and realized that yes, of course that old horrid woman was dead. Dead and gone forever. She looked down at her wine cup and grew annoyed to see it empty again. Why could no one fill it up when she demanded it be filled?
"She used to wag her finger at me whenever I talked about being the most fair and beautiful girl in the world. It was a fact; everyone said so, except her. She said that I shouldn't talk like that, because the gods would punish me for saying such things. But do you know what I think? I think her and the Gods are exactly the same: jealous!" Cersei smirked at that. "I am fairer than the Maiden, I have raised far better children than the Mother could ever hope for, and the Crone scorns me for both… and that I'm must wiserer than her." She paused. "Much wiserer… Muuuuuuch." Cersei took a dainty sip of wine. "Muuuuuuuuuuuuuch."
"Yes, your grace," the woman said before scurrying away like a field mouse. Cersei let her go… clearly the poor thing was intimidated by her. They all were. Everyone was. They all feared her and loved her and that was how it should be!
Even as everything else wasn't as it should have been.
'The Gods are jealous of me… that's why they try and do all they can to make my life more difficult,' she thought to herself bitterly. It had started with the Mad King refusing to give her the silver prince she was promised. Such a pity that Rhaegar had to get that ugly little Dornish child because his father was insane. Who would want some exotic creature when they could have her? 'Dornish girls… they are all whores that slither and twist in bed and are willing to do anything because they must make up for their many faults. What man would want some woman that is willing to do anything in bed without a second thought?'
She had been promised that she would be queen and that she would have her silver prince but that had been taken away from her. And when it looked like things had finally been settled and she'd been given a new king to wed, one stronger and bolder and better than Rhaegar, it had turned out he loved another! Loved. Another. Over her!
'How could Robert still cling to that little northern savage over me?' she thought, not for the first time. Despite her hatred and loathing for him and how she still smiled as she thought of how she had betrayed him time and again with Jaime, her soulmate and only love, at one point she had been willing to love him and call him her only. But then he had whispered Lyanna Stark's name and that was the end of that. It was a grave betrayal of their vows and she'd told Jaime as much that night after Robert had finally gone to sleep and the two of them had fucked in a side room.
Becoming queen had meant so much to her and yet even that did not work out as it should have. She'd expected to rule, to decide on what laws to create and what judgments to hand down to sinners and criminals but instead she found herself shoved to the side, treated as little more than an ornament!
'Infuriating, that's what it was!' Cersei thought to herself as she sipped her wine. 'I should have sat the Iron Throne, not Robert! I wouldn't have spent my days wining and whoring! I would have done something meaningful!'
"Another glass, your grace?" a young page asked, bringing over a flagon of win.
"Thank you," she said with a smile as he poured before letting her eyes linger on his shapely buttock as he moved away. She'd have to invite him to her chambers later for some… delights. Maybe skip the Small Council meeting… it was so utterly dull.
No, nothing had gone as it should have for Cersei. Jaime was gone, robbed from her and everyone seemed to forget that. She was the only one that still held his memory in her heart. Her father had already moved on, focusing on his duties and then hiding away in the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion… Tyrion should have died, not Jaime! Instead he got to go off to Essos; just because his hands had been turned into mutilated messes… she'd lost a hand and she didn't go running off to Essos! Not that she'd actually want to go, of course… foolishness. But they'd all forgotten about Jaime-
"Your grace," a messenger said, causing Cersei to start; she hadn't even noticed him sneak up on her!
"What is it?" she snapped in frustration. "Can't you see that I am busy?"
"There is a man to see you… he claims that he will only speak with you, your grace."
"And why should I care?" she asked snidely.
The messenger dropped his voice to a lower whisper, forcing Cersei to tip her head closer to him in order to hear. "He claims that he has something that will end the war once and for all… but he will only place it in the proper hands."
Cersei smiled at that. Yes… yes her hands were the proper ones. Setting her wine glass aside with her remaining hand she rose gracefully and smiled a smile that was truly befitting a queen. "Lead on then."
Twenty minutes later, in the darkness that was the lower levels of the Red Keep, she was wondering why she'd ever agreed to this. The damp, dark, grimy chambers were no place for a queen and she was debating the merits of demanding the messenger march her back up the stairs and then place his head on the block. But then they finally came to a stop at a closed door, heavy oak with dark knob and hinges, and he quietly motioned for her to step inside.
"I hope you'll forgive the need for privacy," a said the sole figure in the room, his back turned towards her. "I did try and make it as nice as possible. Cersei was rather startled to find that the small cellar room had been rather tidied up, to the point that it was nearly as nice as some of the more public rooms in the Red Keep. Nothing like her own chambers, of course, but still rather nice. Well lit with sunstone lamps, the table cleaned with a heavy cloth in Lannister red and gold upon it, an assortment of foods laid out, and a padded cushion upon it waiting for her to sit down. The only thing wasn't of high quality was a suit of armor that had been covered with a large dust tarp; Cersei had seen plenty of those when Robert had set about redecorating the Red Keep, removing all traces of the Targaryens from the castle, and thought little of it other than to once more mentally laugh at Robert for trying to turn the Red Keep into his house… the capital would always belong to the Dragons, no matter what he did.
Settling down on in the offered seat Cersei poured herself a glass of wine, never once concerned it might be poisoned or the like. This was her home and only a fool would kill a lion in its own den. "It will do though I don't understand why I had to see you here…"
The figured turned and Cersei bit back a gasp of shock, for his visage was truly one that could rob someone of breath. He wore the robes of a maester, though he lacked the chain that all other 'Knights of the Mind' donned, which all at once made him look rather obscene. His hands were folded in front of him and he looked at her with a genteel smile, one that spoke of utter peace. But it lost any sense of comfort thanks to his chalk white skin. Not pale… utterly white, like iced milk. That served to make his eyes, which rather than being blue or brown or green but rather a muted red, stand out all the more. And upon his brow there was a perfectly cut red gem that wasn't so much upon his forehead but embedded within it.
"Qyburn, my lady. At least that is the name I use now. They have us give up our names when we enter the citadel and while they did cast me out I see no need of honoring my family by using their name; they didn't want me so why should they get credit for my achievements? They always thought my work was rather… sinister." Qyburn chuckled at that, as if he'd told some joke but Cersei didn't understand what was amusing about it in the slightest. He paused, suddenly realizing that she was openly staring at him. "Oh!" He chuckled again. "How silly of me. I must look quite the fright, dwelling down in the depths with this face." He gestured at his head. "Please forgive my looks, your grace… a side effect of an experiment, you understand. Sometimes something must be given up in order for one to gain anything."
"And what might you have gained in order to look like… that?" she asked in disgust.
"Would you believe that I was old when Duncan the Tall was Duncan the Squalling Babe?" he asked simply.
"Making yourself young?" Cersei asked with a roll of her eyes. "I've heard claims like that before. At every fair and festival you can find some peddler trying to give you a pot of pig shit claiming that it is the secret to eternal youth."
"My methods aren't 'pig shit', your grace. And eternal youth wasn't my goal. Eternal life was."
"Now you are claiming that you can not die?"
"Exactly," Qyburn said with a happily smile, moving to sit down at the table across from her. "I'm so happy we have come to that understanding. It takes up far too much time debating things like that, don't you think?" He popped a strawberry in his mouth and hummed in delight. "Mmm… perfect. Truly perfect."
"Eternal life," Cersei said before scoffing. "The only cost is looking like that."
"I suppose most would say that I paid too high of a cost. I quite disagree. I would have allowed myself to end up the ugliest man in the world-" Cersei almost retorted that he was only to remember the twisted visage of the little monster that had killed her mother and deciding that no, Qyburn was far from that level of hideous, "-if it gave me what I truly needed."
"And what s that?"
"Time," Qyburn said with a kind smile. Everything about him was kind: his laughter, his looks, his tone. And that made Cersei's skin crawl for no one was that kind. "Time is what this bought me."
"Time?" she asked.
"Oh yes," Qyburn said happily. "Time is the most precious thing in the world, especially for the dreamers. So many great men have longed to make their mark on the world and failed to do so because they lacked time. Families that need to be cared for, castles that need to be maintained, subjects they must rule. And even if all of this is ignored… how much of your life is spent sleeping? Needing to eat? Needing to drink? Needing to… well, pardon me but doing some rather natural but disgusting things? All waste time. They keep men from being great. From changing the world."
He leaned back in his chair, selecting now a cherry from the bowl and twirling it by its stem. "Even those that have changed the world suffer from a lack of time. Imagine what the Conqueror could have done had he known that he had more time? Marched past the Wall and reclaimed the frozen North and the treasures that lie there-"
"There is nothing north of the Neck except ice," Cersei retorted, cutting him off.
Qyburn merely raised an eyebrow on that and the unspoken, "Are you sure" rang through the room, making her, for reasons she couldn't understand, feel like squirming in her chair. But he never uttered those words and instead stated, "And what of King Jaehaerys? The Old King remade King's Landing, built the roads that now connect all the Seven Kingdoms, and crafted the single set of laws we live by to this day. What might have he done had he been given another 20 years of strength and sound mind? Or 200? Or 2000?" He shook his head before finally eating the cherry, the crimsons juice bursting against his white teeth. "Time is what I desire, your grace. For my many projects."
"Projects?" Cersei asked.
"But of course! There are so many! Probably the one nearest and dearest to my heart is husbandry."
"Marriage?" Cersei said with a dismissive huff. "You want me to believe a woman would lie with you?"
"Being with another, no matter the sex, is a waste of time. And we've covered how I feel concerning time." He shook his head, continuing with the same patient tone that reminded Cersei that the man was a former maester. "Husbandry as in selective breeding. To create something that better serves my needs. Every successful farmer does it. Even the Dothraki practice it, breeding the strongest stallion with the most powerful mare to produce better offspring." He paused. "I would have thought you'd have an understanding of such things, considering your father's recent interest in the subject."
"My father is hardly interested in breeding faster horses."
Qyburn though shook his head. "I am referring to his interest in humanity." He leaned back in his chair, far too casual Cersei's liking "He only came to such interests late in his life, of course. One only has to look at his marriage to see that."
"Excuse me?" Cersei said, growing more annoyed by the second.
"Your mother… she was your father's first cousin. The Horselords will tell you it is dangerous to breed family with family as it can result in deformities." He paused. "And madness."
Cersei nearly rose to seek out some guards to kill the pale nuisance before her but stopped herself. After all… Tyrion proved the man's point. Her mother and father had become lucky with her and Jaime, seeing as they were perfect in every way, but the nasty little Imp was proof of what Qyburn preached.
"He must have seen it too with the Targaryens. After all, they are the reason I became so interested in the subject. Marrying brother to sister and niece to uncle… well, the old claim that the gods flip a coin when a Targaryen is born is quite wrong; they roll a die and only one number results in sanity. One must be so very careful… don't you agree?"
Cersei thought of her own life with her children. Joffrey, her noble and brilliant son who would be the greatest king in all the lands. Beautiful Myrcella. And Tommen who… well Tommen was Tommen and he would show is worth soon enough for he was her baby still. But what of their children? And their children's children? How might she make sure that they married properly-
"It is why your father married you to King Robert, is it not? The blood of the Demon of the Trident and with the blood of the brilliant Lions of the West? Oh, what kings could be created… if one is careful. I have been dabbling with such things myself, you know? Here and in Essos, when my travels have taken me there. Pushing the right couple together, eliminating suitors that might muck things up… I am rather proud of the results so far both here and across the Narrow Sea." He folded his hands in his lap. "It was rather difficult getting rid of the Wild Wolf… I had to remove his sister's note in order to get him into place but in the end he was gone. I'd snuffed out his bastards already, after seeing what his seed could do… no, stability was needed and I can't wait to see what the pups can do. And the blending of Ice and Fire, and now adding the Sand and Sun to that mix? Oh, the matches I will need to make for all of them. And then there is Summers and the Gray Lady-"
"Do you think I have the time to listen to your prattling?" Cersei complained, moving to stand. "You claimed you had something to share with me, something concerning power, but all you seem to possess is a love of hearing yourself blather on. I have no need for that; if I wished to hear fools talk endlessly I'd actually pay attention to Varys and Baelish during the Small Council meetings!"
Qyburn help up his hands in soft surrender. "Of course, your grace, of course. Forgive me… even if my body is frozen in time that doesn't mean my mind doesn't age like a normal man… if at a slower rate. I do tend to prattle on about my works. But let us get to the matter at hand." Cersei, after a moment, decided to give the fool a chance and settled down in her chair. "What do you know of the tasks handed down by your son, his grace King Joffrey, first of his name…"
Cersei tuned him off as he rattled of Jof's many titles; on one hand she was pleased that he was showing Joffrey the respect he was due. On the other… she felt as if she lost another year of her life every time someone had to proclaim every official name and duty given to the crown. 'Why can't they just call one a King or a Queen and be done with it? Titles are for lesser people who need to pretend they have actual power. Those that have it do not need names.' Out loud she said, "I know that he wished to find more relics like the Iron Man armor, so that he might strength our cause." She had thought it a decent enough plan… probably wouldn't work but it would keep Joffrey nice and busy and if someone should find something then all the better!
Not that her father had seen it like that. He'd complained about the cost, stating that they couldn't afford to send men out to chase children's stories and the creations of mummers. Which was just madness… Joffrey was king! That meant that money was simply no object! They would get more, if needed, that was all! That was how it worked! The poor worried about counting stags and coppers… they bathed in dragons and didn't worry in the slightest about what happened to them afterwards.
"I was one of the ones he tasked with discovering the truth concerning a legend."
"Joffrey met with you?"
"With an associate of mine, your grace. John Greycrow… bastard son of a Night's Watch deserter and a wildling. Not the most noble of births but better than this visage showing up at court, is it not?" He waved at his own face and Cersei found herself agreeing. "He helped me assemble a team… little more than marauders compared to other knightly groups that went out on the quests I am sure but still they are talented and with me guiding them we made great progress."
Cersei perked up at that. "You found something?"
"I did."
"What?"
He smiled. "Tell me, what do you know of King Maegor, first and, sadly, only of his name?"
Cersei scoffed. "He was the cruelest king Westeros ever had. And if it weren't for Aegon the Unworthy he would have been the worst of them."
"So say his enemies," Qyburn countered. "Your enemies tell horrible stories about you, your grace. And you know how vicious lies can get in the hands of those that wish to bring us down."
"I do," Cersei said bitterly, thinking of all Ned Stark was claiming about her. It didn't matter that there wasn't a scrape of falsehood in his claims… she said they were lies and that is what the public should believe.
Qyburn nodded in approval (not that Cersei needed a former grey rat's approval). "The same of Maegor. He made this castle, after all… he took a pathetic wood fort and made the greatest castle that still remains in all of Westeros. He broke the Faith and their foolish dogma; had his advisors not led him astray he would have shattered the Faith completely and bent them to his will. And if not for choosing to ally with the wrong woman he would have had strong sons that would have changed the course of Westeros. But he gave his enemies the openings they needed and thus he is left with a legacy tainted by lies and fear mongering.
"Your son tasked me in discovering Maegor's lost armor, which he believed might be connected to the Iron Man itself. Do you know much about it?"
"No, I do not," Cersei said, feeling the effects of the wine she'd been drinking. It must have been strong as she'd only had a cup or two. And such small cups! That's why she had to keep refilling her goblet!
"Legend states that Maegor had Tyanna of the Tower, his Mistress of Whispers, use forgotten spells and the blood of his nephew Aenys to forge Valyrian Battle Armor. Unbreakable. Able to command mystical flames. Defy the laws of gravity. One who wore it would be a god."
"Then why did Maegor not crush his enemies if he had such armor?" Cersei asked in annoyance. "It is well enough to claim such things but even a child can see that such armor can't be real for if it was then Maegor would never have been set upon from all sides as he was."
Qyburn though merely shook his head at that. "Oh, Maegor thought as you did, your grace. He donned the armor during his battle against the Warrior's Sons when he reclaimed the city from the fanatics; when seven of their champions battled against him and the six that fought with him. Maegor thought he would slaughter them all with ease, that their blows with fall upon his shoulders like raindrops upon the mountains… only to find himself having to engage in a duel wearing armor he was unfamiliar with that did little more than any other castle forged steel would do. He nearly died in that battle and when he finally awoke he demanded that Tyanna explain what had gone wrong, lest she lose her head.
"That dark sorceress explained that the only one who had made a mistake was Maegor himself. With boldness that can only come from the mad and the brave she told him that the armor would have done all he asked for and more… all he had to have do was die."
"Is there a point to this child's tale?" Cersei asked, taking a plum from the bowl and nibbling on it. If it hadn't been for the food and wine she probably would have stormed out long ago.
"When one is about to present something that is utterly beyond the understanding of others, that will radically alter how a person sees the world, I have found that the more information you present the better you can ease someone into accepting that their reality is about to change."
"And I have found that people who waste my time end up with their heads on spikes."
That, however, made the white-skinned man chuckle. "I am almost tempted to let you try. I've experimented on myself in several ways but never when it comes to the removal of the head." He gave a small little shrug before moving on, leaving that nugget of information to hang in the air like the rancid stink of Flea Bottom on a hot summer's day. "Tyanna explained that magic, especially that coming from what was then and remains to this day the smoking ruins of Valyria, requires sacrifice. Sometimes it is simple, such as time. As I said… power and time. But others require more… extreme measures and moves. History is full of such stories… the North and their Azor Ahai, for example.
"The same was true for the armor that Maegor desired. You can not make armor fly simply by pounding it with a hammer and then scribbling some runes upon it. No no… sacrifice is needed. Tyanna explained all this to Maegor: if he wanted his power he needed to die. The sacrifice of his body would allow his soul to enter the armor, to drive it like a merchant leading a team of horses. He would become the armor and thus become… so much more than what he was." Qyburn let out a said helpless sigh. "But Maegor for all he claimed himself to be… was still a man. A common man. Born with a man's desires. She was asking him to give up all that makes one human. Some he would have been willing to sacrifice: he did not need to drink nor eat for pleasure's sake. Sleep mattered little to him. And what would he care if people openly stared at him as he walked the streets or sat the Iron Throne? He would be King… a king that could never die. That would live forever. But there was one thing Maegor could not accept… the fatal flaw in all men."
Cersei at once knew what Qyburn was getting at; after all, she had seen so many men fail and fall because of the same weakness. "He was ruled by his cock."
Qyburn dipped his head in approval of her words. "In all things that actually matter Maegor was greater than his brother Aenys. Stronger. Better skilled with a blade. Able to focus. Able to lead. To command. Even better at charming people, though he had no friends. People flocked to him though; it is why he became king. There was only one matter where Aenys beat him: the ability to have children. Aenys had many, Maegor none. And as a spirit in a body of steel… that would have never happened." He sighed. "So he continued on as a man. A coward really. Ruled by biological needs and petty revenge against a dead man that would never know what he did. And we know how it ended for him."
"He died."
"He did. But it has always been one of the great question of the ages: how did Maegor die? Who killed him? Who bent the blades on the Iron Throne and drove him upon it? So many answers but what they fail to take into account is the one piece of information that answers it all: why? Maegor was a strong man and no one would have been able to force him to die like that. And he was not one to give up; he never had in his entire life. Thus it becomes clear as the sky on a cloudless day… Maegor killed himself, finally moving to place his soul in the armor.
"But he was deceived.Lord Edwell Celtigar, his Hand for much of his reign, knew of the armor and what would become of the Seven Kingdoms if Maegor was allowed to join his soul with it. As such he in secret removed the armor that had been hidden within the throneroom itself, so that when Maegor sacrificed himself upon the throne all that happened was… death." At that Qyburn rose. "He knew he couldn't keep the armor at Claw Isle so he sent it to his sister, who had married a Royce. She hid it away and soon it was forgotten… until I discovered the records Grand Maester Benifer, who held Celtigar's trust, and pieced together the tale!"
And with that he ripped off the cloth.
"I give you the armor known as Ultron!"
The first thing she noticed was the color. She would have thought that such armor would have been black, dark as pitch and sucking in all light that struck it. But instead the armor of Maegor the Cruel was silver like moonlight, gleaming and rippling yet also somehow holding a smoky quality to it. She'd rarely seen such metal before but it was a kind that no one ever forgot: Valyrian Steel.
'It's completely Valyrian Steel!'
It wasn't as spiky either, as one might have expected. There were of course the odd protrusions and the knees and the shoulders, and upon the helm along the jawline were the pincers of some demented insect, but otherwise there was more of a flowing organic feel to the armor. Every muscle that a man in his prime might posses was sculpted into the metal, from the beefy legs to the solid stomach to the thick arms. Though the hands hang loose at the sides of the armor the claw-like fingers made Cersei think at any moment they might suddenly lurch up to slash at Qyburn and take his head. Cords of metal ran along the structure like steel veins, their purpose unclear to Cersei. There were few open spots in the armor and the more she looked those that she did spot were actually just recesses that lead to deeper metal. No… the only holes she could see were the narrow eye slots and the leering grin-like mouth that split across the helm.
"I can see why you wished to bring this to me," Cersei said softly, rising from her chair so she might get a better look at the armor. Already her mind was raising at the possibilities. "This is the most Valyrian steel ever put in one spot. We will be able to forge swords for our most loyal knights with this. How many of those turncoats in the Riverlands would be willing to march right into Stark's bedchamber and slit his throat if I promised them a Valyrian Steel blade? And Joffrey… a king should hold the greatest sword in the land and with this-"
"Yes yes," Qyburn said quickly, cutting her off. "All grand ideas… though not quite as large as I was thinking." He moved to stand next to her and it was only because he had brought such a gift to her that she didn't recoil from his presence. "Your grace… I know of the spells Tyanna of the Tower weaved in this armor. I can't replicate them… but I can use what is there."
It took her only a moment to understand what he was getting at but in an instant she whipped around and cracked him across the face with her false hand. "You dare suggest killing my child, my son, and sticking his soul in that armor-"
"No, your grace," Qyburn said, raising his head up to show, much to Cersei's disappointment, there wasn't a scratch on his flawless white cheek. "Never King Joffrey. No… it will take time but I believe that I can instead call a soul from the afterlife and place it into the armor."
"And why would I care about that?" Cersei asked.
"Is there not one close to you that you'd wish to see again?"
She stared at him before she suddenly felt her heart rise into her throat.
"Jaime," she whispered.
"Ser Jaime Lannister. Stolen from you all."
Cersei reached out and touched the breastplate, feeling the cold and the heat that were raging together in that metal. "The greatest swordsman that ever lived… placed in armor that can never be destroyed."
"Able to protect the Royal Family for all time," he whispered.
Cersei though was thinking of other things. If Qyburn could do what he said… if he could prove that it worked… then why could he not replicate it? With Jaime's soul in that armor he could easily defeat their enemies in a single night! And then he could travel the world, collecting every piece of Valyrian Steel he could find, which would be melted down and forged into another set of armor… a more feminine and beautiful piece. She saw it clearly in her mind: Jaime and her standing together, transformed into living metal, the eternal king and queen of Westeros. No… the world! They would create an empire that would never fall for they would never fall! They would be eternal! Ageless! Breathtaking! Powerful!
"All I need," Qyburn whispered, "is time."
Cersei smiled even as her false hand shattered and the purple blade of pure energy once more burst from her stump.
"And you shall have it."
