Hey !

After a little absence from my part (^^'') we meet again for a new long fic.

It marks the beginning of a ''series'' of fics, which will be written following a challenge launched on the Discord server ''Les défis galactiques'', which consisted in writing 20 texts presenting a different ship each, but all involving Cersei.

Here is the first one, which starts at the beginning of episode 10 of season 6.

Warning: It will completely change the course of the story from there (and warning: if you don't like long texts, run away, considering the length of this first chapter, it is very likely that this fic is not for you ^^'')

A huge thank you to Black Angelis, who proofread this first chapter for me 333

Enjoy reading! ^^

CHAPTER I

oOo

The dirt and dust that covered the ground chafed and stung like salt at the gaping wounds caused by the little boy he had followed into the basement of the Sept, and let Lancel's scarlet blood seep out.

It would almost have been the blood of lions, but Lancel had decided to give up his name, and everything connected to it, his titles, his lands, his heritage, and even the rights he might have hoped to have over Casterly Rock.

(Some would say that Lancel had never been more than a lamb in the shadow of the great lions of the Lannister family anyway - and perhaps they were right).

He winced, trying to crawl closer to the candle in the middle of one of the huge puddles of slimy green liquid, which Lancel remembered all too well, having seen burning on the very surface of the water when Stannis Baratheon had laid siege to the city, in the hope of taking it and what he claimed was rightfully his.

(The Iron Throne - The object of all desire, the center of the chessboard).

In an instant, everything became clear in his mind: the presence of the candles and the wildfire, the one spread on the ground and the one certainly contained in the hundreds of barrels lined up along the damp walls, the reason for the absence of the king, and especially of the queen mother, so disturbing that he and his companions had been sent to look for her at the Red Keep, and to summon her to come and attend his trial, which she had not deigned to honor with her presence.

Lancel did not take a second more to observe the funereal beauty of the dancing flame of the candle reflected in the highly flammable bright green substance, and, without further thought, blew it out, leaving only smoke, the only vestige of the catastrophe that had narrowly missed, and then almost total darkness, the only glimmer of light coming from the torch that Lancel had left on the ground, far from the wildfire. He got up painfully, holding himself with difficulty on his wavering legs, and hurrying as fast as he could, picked it up, and went back the way he had come, going back up the stairs he had flown down a handful of minutes before, in pursuit of the little boy who had attracted his attention, aware that he had certainly just prevented the death of several hundred, even several thousand people, and that Cersei had just added a new crime to the long list she was already dragging behind her, if that was possible, a new crime, which had just ensured her downfall.

oOo

Cersei frowned, raising her glass of blood red wine to her lips, her free hand resting on the stone sill of the window that offered a full view of King's Landing, and, perched atop Visenya Hill, the Great Sept of Baelor.

She couldn't understand why the immaculate religious building still stood proudly, its seven towers and dome standing out against the blue sky.

If everything had gone as she had planned, the septuary would have already given way to a pile of stones and earth in a huge explosion of the emerald color of Lannister eyes, the color of the Tyrell crest field (the irony had been so great, to imagine this house that had been such a thorn in her side, like the rose of their crest disappearing into its own nothingness, into its own color, that Cersei had smiled to herself when she had thought of it) the smoke rising into the sky and the pungent odor mingling with the sweet flavor of victory and the tart aromas of garnet red wine, and gently chafing her throat.

And yet, it was not so.

The sept did not shatter, as Cersei had planned.

She put her glass back down, something was wrong, and, she was well aware of it, it was not time to win, and, for a brief moment, closed her eyes, just for a few seconds, understanding perfectly what this failure meant and implied.

Somehow, Olenna Tyrell was right.

She had lost.

oOo

As the Sparrows continued to block the doors of the sept, the excitement in the main room of the building did not diminish.

But the seconds ticked by, turned into minutes, and nothing happened.

The tension barely began to subside as people realized that Queen Margaery's request to get out so quickly and evacuate the building completely had been a false alarm, and that nothing seemed to be wrong, but they continued to flock to the exit. It was obvious to them that nothing would happen after that. If Loras Tyrell's trial had indeed been upheld, and had indeed taken place, the Queen Mother's trial would probably not, and it was precisely to attend the latter that they had all come with such pomp and circumstance and gathered in the religious building, whether they were believers or not, by the way.

(After all, what could be more pleasurable than to see one of the world's greatest fall when one is a mere inhabitant of a city as large as King's Landing, and has no name that inspires respect because of its power, antiquity or wealth?)

But as they all crowded much more quietly than a few moments before in front of the great oak doors, waiting for the members of the Militant Faith posted at the entrance to open them, and to step aside to let them pass, the voice of the High Sparrow, who, still in the center of the room, had not moved an inch, rose into the air, intimating silence to the crowd, and making them all turn as one to look at him:

''The gods are just. No one escapes their judgment, small or powerful. Whatever happens, Queen Cersei Lannister will be no exception. She will be judged today, and the sentence that is decided will be carried out as soon as possible. She will come here, willingly... or else by force.''

At these words he signaled to the remaining Sparrows in the sept, who went out one after the other, the mass of people spreading out as they passed, and closing the doors behind them.

When all eyes were once again on him, the High Sparrow gave the assembly a paternal and reassuring smile.

Margaery let out a breath, letting go of Loras's arm, which she had been holding on to. She had the feeling that they had just come very close to disaster, and that nothing that was going to happen would bode well.

(She didn't know how right she was.)

oOo

Cersei was waiting for them when they arrived at her apartments.

She knew they were coming, and she knew that this time she would have no way to escape them.

She had sent the Mountain to guard Tommen's door, to make sure he didn't get out, didn't know where the other knights of the Kingsguard were, and didn't count on the few Lannister soldiers Jaime hadn't dragged along when he left to take command of the siege of Riverrun. After all, they had already let the Sparrows into the Red Keep several times. They certainly wouldn't keep them out, with or without her.

The members of the Militant Faith who had come to pick her up and escort her to the Great Sept of Baelor didn't even have the thoughtfulness to knock on the door to ask permission to enter. The heavy wooden doors flew open, and the queen's quarters were swarmed by dozens of Sparrows.

As they walked through the halls of the Red Keep, Cersei pondered what was to come.

If the sept hadn't exploded, as she'd expected, it was because someone had discovered what she was up to, and prevented her from acting. So there was at least one person who knew what she had intended to do, and that person was obviously not her friend, nor her ally. One way or another, this failure would cost her dearly. Very expensive. The High Sparrow and the septons who were in charge of her trial had actually already tried her, in a way. They were convinced that she was guilty, guilty of all the crimes she was accused of, before she even had a chance to plead her case.

(Not that she would have, anyway - a lion does not plead, does not beg. The same is true of lionesses. They are predators, not common prey, vulnerable beings like deer or roses).

They had already found her guilty, and they would absolutely seek to make her pay the price. She would be considered a traitor to the crown for killing a king, who was also her husband, whom she had deceived by fornicating with her own brother. She was guilty of regicide, adultery and incest, plus an aborted mass murder attempt.

She was not fooled, and she knew exactly what sentence would be sought against her.

In the end, it would appear that it would not be the valonqar that would take her life.

She would have nothing to say in her defense, she knew, if the person who had discovered the wildfire under the septuary was one of the Sparrows, the rumor would have spread quickly, and was easily verifiable.

And while there was no evidence of her involvement in the attempted explosion, who else but her would have wanted to wipe out the future of House Tyrell, the leading members of the Militant Faith, and some of the people who had spat on her, literally and figuratively, in one fell swoop?

She was going to pay with her life, she was well aware of that.

The only thing she had to make sure of was that she wouldn't take Tommen down with her.

If she died, she would leave him and the power in the hands of the Tyrells, she knew that, but she had reached the point of no return, and the only thing that mattered to her was that her son was safe, as much as possible in this world of horror and atrocity.

She would confess to all her crimes, all but Tommen's true parentage, except for what would put him in danger, she would support the conviction of everyone in the septuary who believed her guilty, yet didn't really want to hear it, because to hear it would be to show that such a monster existed, really existed, and yet, even without really wanting to be sure, they had come to witness her downfall.

Well, so be it.

They wanted to see the monster.

She was going to show them the monster.

oOo

Tommen was still in his chambers, unable to leave because of The Mountain blocking his way.

He still didn't understand why his mother's knight in shining armor had prevented him from going out to the Great Sept of Baelor, and it certainly wasn't the once Gregor Clegane who would answer him, having taken a vow of silence.

Nevertheless, a few moments later, there was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal the servant who had come to warn him that Loras' trial was about to begin earlier, and who this time looked more agitated than before, out of breath, as if he had just run across the castle to come to him:

"Your Grace... Members of the Militant Faith have entered the Red Keep..."

He paused in mid-sentence, as if for a fraction of a second he wondered if he should tell her what was happening or if he should keep it to himself.

At his hesitation, Tommen pressed him slightly:

"Well?"

"They are taking the queen your mother to the Great Sept of Baelor. The High Sparrow has given them orders to come for her, and to take her there willingly or unwillingly."

When the servant said this, the conversation he had had with his uncle Jaime immediately came back to Tommen's mind.

He had told him of his helplessness when his mother had been dragged through the streets like a common whore, when he should have stopped them, and Jaime had made him a promise that as long as he was there no one would hurt Cersei.

Except he wasn't, because Tommen had thanked him for the Kingsguard, and sent him to retrieve Riverrun on his behalf.

It was then that he realized the consequences of his actions.

Not only had he kept his uncle away from his mother, when he was probably the only one who could really protect her, but he had also forbidden trials by combat, thus following the advice of the High Sparrow, who said that the gods were just, and that trials of this kind were only ways for the powerful to evade their judgment, without thinking that, with Jaime away, a trial of this kind was probably the only way for his mother, who could have taken the Mountain and its colossal strength as her champion, to come out of this unfortunate situation unscathed.

When he had ascended the Iron Throne, with no idea how to rule, he had promised himself that he would be a better king than his brother, or even his father, had been.

But he had failed, again. He had exposed his mother, and now that he realized it, it was too late to turn back. Suddenly, the crown he wore seemed much too heavy for his head.

As he began to chastise himself inwardly for giving the Sparrows another opportunity to hurt Cersei, he realized that this time it was not too late to do the right thing.

Thanking the servant, he took advantage of the fact that the door had been opened, to get out before the Mountain could stop him, and rushed to the stairs.

The two knights of the Kingsguard who were posted at his doorway had trouble following him, and Tommen couldn't remember the last time he had rushed through the halls of the Red Keep like that, although he suspected it was many years ago, when he was playing with Myrcella (not Joffrey, never Joffrey), or when he was running in the middle of the night to his mother's chambers when he was awakened by a nightmare.

He had never been the kind of child to run around and turn the castle upside down, preferring instead to hide in Cersei's skirts, or to climb on her lap and let her tell him stories.

For a moment, hurrying out of the Red Keep as if it were on fire, he was the child he had never been.

When he saw the members of the Faith Militant, and his mother in the middle of their group, completely surrounded by dozens of Sparrows, they were about to leave the castle grounds.

"Wait!" he shouted.

At the sound of the young king's voice, everyone turned around, including Cersei.

At the sight of her son running down the last few steps from them, she felt herself turn slightly white.

She had not planned for Tommen to go to the sept with them, would have preferred that he stayed at the Red Keep, and that he did not witness the confession that she would be forced to make.

She had no desire that the image her last son would keep of her, once the members of the Faith Militant had taken her head off, or killed her in the way they chose to do, would be that of a monster confessing that she had intended to kill several hundred people at once, that of a criminal confessing all the atrocities she had committed, not after spending her life trying to protect her cubs from the horrors of the world they lived in and the perniciousness of the people around them, including herself, and the perfectly despicable acts she had committed to make sure they were safe, something she had ultimately failed to do, having been unable to prevent Joffrey's death, nor Myrcella's, and she'd be damned if the Militant Faith would win on that front too, making her look like a monster to her son.

(A little voice in the back of her mind whispered to her that it was written, that it was her destiny, to see her three golden-crowned children die before her eyes without being able to do anything about it, but Cersei pushed it away forcefully, as she did every time she hissed the horrible words of Maggy the Frog's predicted truth).

Tommen reached the bottom of the stairs, and joined her, the Sparrows moving aside as he passed, leaving the king to access his mother.

He looked Cersei in the eye, and said:

"I'm not going to let you go alone, Mother. I'm coming with you."

If the members of the Faith Militant assigned to escort him

He slipped his arm under hers, and Cersei smiled sadly.

oOo

When they arrived at the gates of the Great Sept of Baelor, which had been closed to prevent the people who had come to watch the trial from leaving, they stopped for a brief moment.

Once again, Tommen turned to his mother, and looking into her emerald green eyes, without removing his arm from hers.

"I swear to you I will not let them hurt you, or harm you," he declared so solemnly that for a brief moment Cersei felt as if she were looking at Jaime, not their seventeen-year-old son.

The crown he wore looked so big for him.

Cersei knew her son was no longer a child, far from it, but deep down, whether he was king or not, or even when he had children, he would always be her baby, her last born, her little cub.

She watched him play king, even though he had never been prepared for it, even though the weight of the crown was far too great for his frail shoulders as a boy barely out of his teens, and she knew perfectly well that he could do nothing against the High Sparrow if he decided, and it was very likely that he would decide, that she should pay for her crimes with her life.

She placed her hand gently on his cheek and stroked it with her thumb, as she used to do when he was little, and gave him a small smile:

"I believe you."

oOo

The light from outside flooded the septu as the doors opened to reveal the figures of the king and queen mother.

They descended the stairs that led to the center of the room, the king arm in arm with his mother, whom he led to the middle of the seven-pointed star on the marble slabs, and whom he let go only after she whispered something in his ear, and who went to stand at the bottom of the stairs, ready to intervene if anything went wrong.

Cersei stood in front of the High Sparrow, sitting in a chair at the foot of the statue of the Father, who, she was perfectly aware, was gloating inside.

The latter cleared his throat, and the silence, which had been disturbed by the entrance of Tommen and Cersei, causing many whispers in the crowd, returned to the assembly.

Once all the spectators, because all this was nothing less than a spectacle for them, were again hanging on his lips, he rose from the seat where he had sat, at the foot of the statue of the Father, and began to speak:

"Lady Cersei Lannister..."

But he was interrupted by the doors of the sept opening again, to reveal a new figure, alone this time, and moving with obvious difficulty.

It took the person to step forward for Cersei to recognize Lancel, whose father she had spotted in the crowd of people who had come to admire his decline.

His hands were stained with blood, which was most likely his, considering the way he was pressing on his belly, as if he was trying to contain a wound.

Glancing at Cersei with a sometimes dark, sometimes terrified look, he moved as best he could towards the High Sparrow, leaning towards him to whisper something in his ear, which nobody else, despite the heavy silence in the room, could hear.

The fanatic's face darkened suddenly, for a brief moment, before lighting up, glaring at the Queen Mother.

It didn't take much for her to realize that she was the subject of Lancel's confidence, and thus to know that it was he who had discovered the caches of wildfire and candles, and who had foiled her plan.

Nevertheless, if Cersei was boiling inside, she did not let anything show, and kept a totally impassive face.

It was all a question of appearance.

If she wanted to make an impression, she had to inspire fear, and her father had proven that a cold, calm, calculating person could sometimes be far more formidable and threatening than a screaming, scrambling oddball.

She had to show that she was a worthy daughter of Tywin Lannister, a lioness of Casterly Rock, and that she would roar to the bitter end, to the point of breaking her voice if need be.

The High Sparrow, his infamous smile plastered on his face, picked up where he had left off, as if nothing and no one had ever interrupted him:

"Lady Cersei Lannister... Are you ready to be tried, and found guilty or innocent before the Seven?"

Cersei glanced around briefly, lingering for a fraction of a second on Tommen, before answering without the slightest hesitation:

"I did not come here to be judged."

As murmurs were already starting to circulate in the crowd, Cersei continued:

"What would be the point of that? All of you here have already judged that I am guilty of the crimes I have been accused of. If I were not, you would not all be here, waiting for me to be torn to pieces and sentenced for my sins.

The whispers grew louder.

"If I've come here, it's to do what is done in every sept in Westeros. I came to confess."

A sly smile formed on her lips.

Noting that neither the High Sparrow nor the septons seemed to be about to add anything, and ignoring the incessant noise produced by the people's discussions among themselves, she continued:

"I do things because they feel good..."

All eyes were on her now.

"I drink because it feels good, as I'm sure many of you do."

High Sparrow interrupted her:

"Alcoholism was not one of the charges in your trial, Your Grace."

Cersei's wry smile lingered on her thin features.

She looked at Tommen again, more concerned about how he would react to her statement than how the seven jurors she was supposed to answer to would react.

"I killed my husband, because it felt good to be rid of him."

She kept silent about the fact that Robert had raped her night after night, hit her, insulted her. After all, when he did that, she knew perfectly well that nothing would be held against him. He was the king, and above all, he was her husband. He was perfectly within his rights to behave like that, and she would have been reproached for not behaving like an obedient and docile wife, as repulsive as that seemed to her.

The whispers that animated the crowd turned into loud words. The queen was not only admitting her guilt for the murder of her husband and king, she was claiming it loud and clear, clearly not caring about the consequences.

To Cersei's surprise, Tommen didn't seem surprised, or maybe he was hiding it well.

Seeing that her revelation and the confidence it showed had the desired result, Cersei continued:

"I slept with my cousin, Lancel Lannister, while I was still married, to foment the murder of my late husband King Robert Baratheon, because it felt good to know that my husband thought he had been killed by the pleasures of wine and the hunt."

The people were all talking to each other now.

No one they knew of had ever admitted to themselves that they were guilty of treason, conspiracy, adultery, incest, and murder, regicide to boot.

Cersei went back to staring into the High Sparrow's eyes, perverse brown eyes, evil against poignant green emeralds, piercing, burning, in pure defiance.

"I fuck my brother, because it feels good to feel him inside me, and has since we were young."

This revelation came as less of a surprise than the previous ones. Most people had heard the rumors started by Stannis Baratheon and the vast majority of them had come to terms with the idea that the Queen had slept with her twin brother, despite the fact that incest is still a crime in Westeros, but at least this time it was not coupled with a plot to murder someone. Nevertheless, a good part of the people present did not hesitate to show their shock, provoked by the great frankness and disregard of the repercussions that this confession would have from Cersei.

"I lie about fucking my brother, because it feels good to know that we are safe from hate-filled hypocrites."

Knowing that she was done with the crimes that Faith had officially held her responsible for, the High Sparrow rose from his chair.

"According to our most recent information, you have also been guilty of something else this very day, Your Grace."

Cersei smiled at him.

Shouts erupted in the room, people were no longer talking, they were screaming, and Cersei was forced to raise her voice in turn to make herself heard. She turned to the crowd this time, not to the judges:

"I tried to kill all of you with the wildfire under the sept, all of you, Sparrows, septons, septas, filthy soldiers, and even just the people of King's Landing, because it would have felt good to watch you burn, and it felt good to imagine your shock and pain. No thought has ever given me greater joy, and I bitterly regret that it did not happen."

She paused, to look around at the people who were shouting, and inveighing against her.

"Even confessing feels good in the right circumstances."

She turned her head again briefly to watch Tommen out of the corner of her eye, though she couldn't quite make out his expression.

She felt bad that she had to go to such extremes, but none of this would have happened if she could have asked for a single combat by choosing the Mountain as her champion to determine the outcome of her trial.

At this point, people weren't talking to each other, they were insulting her directly, and demanding that all kinds of penalties be applied against her.

Her imprisonment for life. Her forced integration into the Sisters of Silence. Her execution.

It was this last one that came up most often, and in several forms, which at least had the merit of not lacking originality.

Fanning. Flayed. Decapitated. Hanged. Burned alive.

To this last, the jurors seemed to pay particular attention.

The High Sparrow argued with the other septons, before looking again at Cersei, a pained look absolutely false on her old features, and asking her:

"Did you confess your crimes freely?"

While she could have made the choice to recant, to say that she had lied, to plead her innocence, to plead, to beg, to pray for the clemency of the Seven Gods, Cersei did not. She had gone too far, far too far to turn back, this was the point of no return, she knew this from the moment she had asked Qyburn if the rumor of wildfire under the sept was just a rumor, or something more, she could not turn back now.

"Yes."

On Tommen's face appeared a dawning apprehension, probably fearing for the sentence that would be sought. He had to, if the sentence proved too heavy, prevent it at all costs. His mother may have committed heinous acts, but she was still his mother, the woman who had given birth to him, the woman who had raised him, the woman who had cared for him, the woman who had made him a man, the woman who had given herself body and soul to him.

He had promised himself this before entering the Sept, before he knew she was really guilty, but her confession did not change his decision, nor the promise he had made to her. He would not let anything happen to her, and he would not let the Sparrows hurt her.

"In this case, for Cersei Lannister, who has, in addition to being guilty of regicide, incest, fornication, adultery, and conspiracy, intended to kill us all with the wildfire placed, according to her own words, under the Great Sept of Baelor the Blessed, who wished to spill fire and blood in that sacred place, the sentence demanded is immolation by fire."

Cersei's face remained impassive, as it was at the opening of her trial.

"All judges in favor of this sentence raise their hands."

And seven hands went up.

Cersei could almost have laughed at the ironically poetic form of justice they wished to apply to her, had it not been for the fact that she was to be put to death.

She knew she was going to lose her life, she had almost made her peace with dying, but she would have preferred it to be done as briefly as possible, thinking that this would be the chosen option, that they would be eager to rid the free world of a monster of her kind.

Death by fire was particularly painful, so they said. The wildfire was particularly quick, one explosion and it was all over, just ashes and smoke, while death by pyre was much slower, taking time to make its victims suffer for a long time before their lives were taken away.

The people continued to shout and roar their approval, that was all she deserved, after all, death, death in the most excruciating pain.

Only one voice was raised against those of all the others, that of Tommen, and everyone began to look closely at the young king.

If he had said "No!" in a confident tone of voice, his voice was much less so when he came closer to the High Sparrow and stood between Cersei and him.

His uncle Jaime's voice echoed in his mind, what he had said to her when they were both standing in front of Myrcella's corpse coming back to his memory.

Whatever she had to endure, she endured for you.

"I will not allow my mother to be burned alive. I will not allow her to be executed," he said, his voice slightly shaky, betraying the fact that he was still a young boy wearing a man's crown.

The High Sparrow resumed his usual paternal air:

"Majesty, your mother is, by her own admission, guilty of many crimes, all of great gravity in the eyes of the Gods. This is the sentence that the Seven have seen fit to reserve for her. Death by fire is the purest of all: fire quintessentially defines the soul. May that of your mother's queen be thus purified, and join the Seven Heavens, rather than the Seven Hells to which she has condemned herself."

Tommen protested, but the High Sparrow did not listen to him, turning instead to the gathered people who had finally finished thundering, and were now ready to listen to him with an attentive ear.

Cersei met her uncle Kevan's gaze, but looked away a fraction of a second later, refocusing her attention instead on the High Sparrow, and on what he was about to say.

"Queen Cersei will be executed the day after tomorrow, in the square of the Red Keep."

Cheers went up in the crowd, a bunch of wild animals ready to tear each other apart and mass by the thousands to see the queen burned, for all the misdeeds she had committed.

He glared at her before continuing.

"We cannot allow the blood of a traitor to the Faith and the Crown to stain the sacred steps of this holy place."

This time, the High Sparrow looked at her with a gloating expression, making no attempt to hide his delight and satisfaction.

Cersei's fate was sealed.

oOo

Cersei was sitting in an armchair, a glass of wine in her hand, absentmindedly swirling the Lannister red liquid, blood red, like her own that would soon be flowing, in her glass, when there was a knock at the door.

She didn't even hear herself invite the person into the room, and only discerned the sound of the door opening, and closing behind her back.

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the person, to see who it was that was disturbing her last hours of peace, and had the surprise, which she could not have described as pleasant, of seeing her uncle Kevan.

He approached her, and kissed her on the cheek.

No reaction from his niece.

He looked at her without really knowing what to think. He had, like everyone else, been shocked by her confession, and even more so by the fact that he had narrowly escaped the clutches of death, but he couldn't see Cersei as a monster, as everyone else seemed to think.

He had seen her born, he had seen her as a little girl with blonde curls and laughing green eyes, he had seen her grow up to be a woman and because of that, he couldn't bring himself to think that she had done it on a whim, or, as most people claimed, because of the madness that had overtaken her, the same madness that had overtaken the Mad King, making him want to burn them all, the same madness that had made her confess without shame to all the atrocities she had done.

He refused to believe it, and desperately wanted to convince himself that there was a plausible reason, a rational reason behind her monstrous actions.

He sat down in a chair next to Cersei's, unable to think of anything to say.

Fortunately, he didn't have to, as Cersei began to speak first, after several long minutes of silence:

"Did you come to see ''the monster'' one last time?"

Kevan dodged the question, which was anyway only there to furnish the heavy silence, and declared:

"I came to ask you for explanations."

Cersei finally deigned to look him in the eyes, and it was only then that Kevan noticed their striking resemblance to Tywin's, the same fierce glint shining in them.

"And what about?"

"About what you said at your trial yesterday."

She looked away.

"What about it? I killed Robert because I couldn't stand it anymore when he took me wherever and whenever he wanted as if I were a mare destined to satisfy his pleasures of the flesh and provide him with heirs, and I decided I'd had enough the day he hit me hard enough to leave a mark on my face."

She swallowed, and Kevan thought he saw the ghost of a tear beading at the corner of her eyes.

"I slept with Lancel to carry out my plan because he volunteered, and because my father had ordered him to obey whatever I said."

At the mention of his son, Kevan tensed slightly, but he was not surprised at what Cersei said. Lancel had always looked up to Jaime as his role model, and, like most men in Westeros, had had a crush on the Light of the West, the Sun of the Seven Kingdoms. He continued to listen to what Cersei had to say.

"I slept with Jaime because I love him more than anything in the world, and we went to great lengths to hide our relationship from the world, not because we were ashamed of what we were doing, but because we knew it was considered a sin, and no one was to find out the true identity of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen's father, or they would have been killed, and so would we."

"What about the sept and the wildfire? You still tried to commit mass murder."

This time Cersei looked at him, and did not turn her head away.

"I did it because I had no choice. Everyone already thought I was guilty of all the crimes I was accused of. Tommen forbade trials by combat, at the behest of the High Sparrow, even though I intended to assert my right to demand one, choosing Gregor Clegane to be my champion, and that would have been the only way to make sure I got out of this alive, and I couldn't leave Tommen alone, with the Tyrells' growing influence, or it was like handing them power on a silver platter. So I had to find another solution, and when Qyburn told me about the wildfire, which had been hidden there by the Mad King, I jumped at the chance. It offered me the possibility of escaping my trial, and of taking revenge on all those who had humiliated me. I didn't hesitate for a second, even though I knew what was involved if I failed."

Again, Kevan could think of nothing to say.

He hadn't thought of it that way, certainly no one had, and if it didn't change the consequences of Cersei's actions, or make them any less serious, if it didn't bring back the people she had killed, it proved that she wasn't the monster people thought she was either.

Sure, her actions were monstrous, but Cersei had had her reasons.

Kevan had suspected that the children must surely come into the line of fire at some point. True to their emblem animal, Cersei had always shown that she would do anything to protect her babies, even when they were grown. By acting as she had, she had pursued that goal, as she always had.

He nodded slightly, and this time it was not an illusion, not an impression, not even the mere ghost of a tear that appeared in the corner of Cersei's emerald eyes.

He rose from the chair where he had been sitting. For the first time, he questioned the judgment of the High Sparrow and his septons, their decision to kill Cersei, wondering if it was really the right thing to do, the right thing to do, if she really deserved the death she was condemned to without knowing the whole story.

But anyway, it wasn't like he could change anything. On his own, he would never have the power, nor the weight, to convince all the people who had witnessed her trial that in fact she had done all the things she was guilty of, but that she had good reasons, that she wasn't really evil after all, that it was all relative.

While he was ready to leave, his hand resting on the golden handle of the door, not really knowing what to think of all that he had just learned, the details that Cersei had just brought to light another aspect of the story leaving him a bitter taste in the back of his mouth and in his throat, he heard the voice of his niece calling out to him:

"Will you be there tomorrow?"

He didn't need to ask her what she was referring to to understand, and, nodding, answered softly:

"Yes. Yes, I will be there."

Without having the courage to look into Cersei's eyes one last time (perhaps for fear of drowning in them?), he pressed the handle, opened the door, and left the room, without looking back.

oOo

The bells rang on the morning of the Queen Mother's execution.

They rang, and rang, and rang again, louder than the morning of the trial, to remind everyone, all the inhabitants of King's Landing, rich and poor alike, that there was something not to be missed under any circumstances.

When dawn broke and the first rays of the sun glowed like fire or like blood of autumn, the pyre was already set up on the square in front of the Red Keep, wisely waiting for the crowds to come and watch from all over the capital, shouting their euphoria at the scene that would unfold during the day.

As the hours passed and the sun rose into the sky, more and more people gathered at the foot of the Red Keep, just to be in a good enough position to see everything that would happen there.

By the time the sun was at its zenith, it seemed as if more than half of the population of King's Landing had gathered at the foot of the castle that overlooked the city, from all parts of the city, from the richest manors to the slums of Flea Bottom, all seemed to have passed the word to come and witness the death of Queen Cersei with great pomp.

The members of the Faith Militant began to arrive in their turn, hundreds of Sparrows, dressed in their brown robes, some holding weapons, others axes or scythes, and others nothing at all. If a good part of them stopped on the wooden platform that had been built especially for the installation of the pyre, the rest rushed into the Red Keep, whose doors, which had been half-opened, closed behind them.

When the bells rang for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, the High Sparrow appeared, and the castle doors opened wide again, this time to let in all the Sparrows who had entered a short time before.

But this time they were not alone. They were accompanied by the one that all the spectators had come to see.

The Queen Mother, surrounded by the members of the Militant Faith, descended the steps that separated the castle's forecourt from the stage, dressed in a simple black silk robe, black as night, black as crime, black as sin.

The absence of King Tommen at her side quickly made the inhabitants talk, and they began to whisper among themselves, discussing the possible reasons that could justify it.

Silence fell like a bird of prey on the crowd when the High Sparrow raised his hand to demand attention.

oOo

As he had on the morning of his mother and brother-in-law's trial, Tommen waited in his chambers.

He had no right to fail this time.

He had failed to stop the Sparrows from parading his mother naked through the streets like a prostitute. He had no right to let them kill her, on top of that.

He was well aware of the horrific acts she was responsible for, but, like during the trial, he kept in mind the conversation he had with Jaime.

Whatever she had to go through, she went through for you.

If his mother had acted that way, she certainly had reasons, and deep down, even though he knew he was the king, he didn't think he had any right to judge her, especially when, according to his uncle, who was the person closest to her, she had only done it to protect him and his brother and sister.

As for Robert, he couldn't blame his mother for killing him. After all, how many times, awakened by a bad dream, he had run to Cersei's chambers, hoping to find comfort in his mother's arms, and had to turn around, and go back to his room alone, having guessed that his father was there with her, and hurting her, if he could relate to his mother's pleas for the king to stop what he was doing.

And in the same way, he couldn't blame her for having a relationship with her Uncle Jaime. If she had been brutalized by her father, as he had been far too young to guess, but, in retrospect, he understood, what could be more normal than to seek comfort in the arms of someone else, much like he did with her when he was a child?

It didn't surprise him that this man was his uncle. From what he could see, Jaime had always been caring with her, and he was fiercely protective of her, it was obvious.

Another snippet of their conversation came to mind.

They won't lock your mother up in a dungeon again, ever. Not while I'm around.

Damn it.

He should have known better.

Now that he'd been told, it all seemed so obvious.

Suddenly, Tommen felt bad about sending Jaime to Riverrun.

He might have been able to avoid this disaster, to succeed where he had failed, to prevent all that was happening.

Margaery had tried to convince him that Cersei had only gotten what she deserved, that one could not escape the judgment of the Seven forever, not when one had spent one's entire life defying them, but despite all the vehemence with which she had spoken, he had not been able to agree with her, and had already made his decision.

His mother would not die that day.

oOo

Jaime couldn't remember seeing so many people in the streets of King's Landing as he had when he tried to confront the High Sparrow with the Tyrell armies as he passed through the gates of the capital.

It was as if something of the utmost importance was taking place in the streets of the city, which everyone was trying to get to.

But it didn't matter to him in the end.

All he cared about was getting back to the Red Keep, and he was eager to get back to Cersei.

But to do that, he had to first manage to make his way through the crowd, which was getting denser and denser as he got closer and closer to the castle.

It didn't take him long to realize that the crowd was gathered at the foot of the Red Keep, and seemed captivated by what was happening in front of them.

Piqued by curiosity, Jaime stood up in his stirrups, overlooking the people almost crowded together from atop his horse.

And what he saw left him speechless.

oOo

When the High Sparrow came to stand in front of Cersei, she could once again see the satisfaction, the pleasure on his face.

Several Sparrows grabbed her without mercy, preventing her from freeing herself, or even struggling.

The High Sparrow repeated what he had said the day before at the trial, for all the people who had not been able to attend, repeating all the charges against her, all the crimes she had confessed to, and the sentence she had been assigned.

Then the Sparrows led her to the stake, which was waiting for her.

It was then that she saw him.

Jaime.

He was there, there, on his horse in the middle of the crowd, he was there, a hundred steps away from her, or more, for that matter, and for a moment she thought it was just a figment of her imagination, that she was dreaming, that she was hallucinating, that he couldn't be right in front of her, But the cries of the people and the burning sensation caused by the rope that the Sparrows were tying around her wrists brought her back to reality, and forced her to realize that this was not an illusion or a mirage, like that of a traveler in the middle of the desert who thought he saw water.

She watched him, watched him try to make his way, tried desperately to split the compact crowd, his horse threatening to run them over.

The High Sparrow's voice was loud and clear as he asked, pulling her from her thoughts:

"Cersei Lannister... If you have any last words, now is the time."

One of the Faith Militant members at his side handed him a flaming torch, which he grabbed, and held at arm's length.

There was a dead silence among the people, who were waiting for the doomed queen to speak.

Which she did, remaining proud and dignified to the end.

"You will regret it. What you are doing. On my name, on my fortune, on my heritage of Lannister, I swear you will regret it, all of you.''

The High Sparrow's face beamed, lit with perverse glee as he bent and tipped the flaming torch to set the straw at Cersei's feet ablaze and set the pyre ablaze.

Jaime spurred his horse into full gallop, forcing men, women and children to move out of the way if they did not want to be trampled under the horse's hooves.

At the same time, the doors of the Red Keep opened again, letting Tommen through, and he raced down the stairs.

"Don't do it! I forbid you!"

When the king's formal warning to immolate his mother reached the ears of the multitude of people present, the whispers began to rise again.

Could the High Sparrow really disobey the king, even if he said he was acting in the name of the Seven Gods?

But it was too late.

The straw caught fire just as Tommen reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jaime began to reach them and climb them.

The voices of father and son echoed as one through the streets of King's Landing.

"No!"

The High Sparrow straightened as the flames began to illuminate Cersei's fine features and pale skin with a soft orange glow.

oOo

Contrary to what she would have thought, the flames, rather than burning her, than putting her flesh to the bone before reducing it to ashes, only made her feel a strange caressing sensation on her skin, as if the fire was only licking her legs, her arms, her breasts without consuming them.

Cersei realized that she was not burning.

Her skin was not blackening, not turning to ash

The wood from the pyre and the straw she was standing on were turning into a pile of charcoal and smoke, but she was not burning, contrary to all expectations.

People were intrigued by the lack of screams from the queen.

Death by fire was supposed to be one of the most painful, yet no sound seemed to come from the burning pyre and reach their ears.

It was only after many minutes that they got the answer, that they understood why.

Nothing remained of the pyre but a pile of ashes.

And in the middle of this pile of ashes stood the queen.

Naked as the day she was born, the silk of her dress completely burned, her skin slightly blackened and her golden hair greyed by the smoke and the flames, but alive, unharmed and whole, and standing there in front of them, after having gone through the fire.

Jaime and Tommen, who had both stopped in their tracks when they realized it was too late to do anything to save Cersei, reached her.

And for many minutes, no one knew what to say.

Thanks a lot for reading!

The title of this fic comes from the song Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde, as well as the summary.

The title of the series with the ships with Cersei comes from the song Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden.