The Queen that Roars- Chapter 2
Thanks for all the lovely reviews and sorry about the wait! Took a bit longer than expected, for I failed to realise the consequences plot wise of essentially replacing the arguably most morally corrupt character from Game of Thrones. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
There had been a pact made, when the brothers had grown to realise the sheer ineptitude and disgrace that their father was making of their house. And so, it came to be that the four held it between them that at least one of them would be at Casterly Rock to keep things running in a respectable order.
Seven hells, just my luck that the latest crisis landed on my lap.
Gerion Lannister was considered, and in turn would consider himself a generally cheerful and amiable fellow. However, whenever he was at his historical home even his smile would become ever so wooden. He was never one for administrating or to dabble in the intrigues of court, for he yearned for adventure and excitement across the glittering sea in foreign lands. Even now, memories of his adventures in Essos would cross his mind like a siren's call.
Plus, I don't need the constant sight of my ridiculous father prancing around with my nursemaid of all people.
Nevertheless, he did his duty when necessary and thus when he was notified that there was smoke and talks of a forest fire occurring in the forests around Lannisport, and that somehow his hellion of a niece was involved, he quickly put together an escort and saddled up to ride to extricate her from whatever mess she had decided to involve herself in this time. Afterall, even though he did not like Cersei as much as her siblings (especially what with her cruel and harsh treatment of Tyrion), family was family.
Which was why now, with a uncharastically grim face he bore witness to the devastated patch of forest that apparently Cersei was still in. Resisting the urge to cough from the sooten ash and smoke, he strained his ears for any signs of life.
Only the crackle and crunch of dying embers on skeletal foliage greeted him.
Cersei you silly girl, what have you done now?
He dismounted, his feet crunching the desiccated forest floor, and began his search.
Cersei twisted uncomfortably in her unconsciousness. Her psyche, already vulnerable from her breakdown, was in no state of mind to accept this torrent and flood of memories and something more.
Vague memories, of a distant time in a distant land.
Of a shining sword, and the roars and exultation of cheering people. Her people.
Of Knights, comrades in arms, seated around a magnificent round table.
Of loss, betrayal, killing, despair, death, and forbidden deals.
Of the restlessness, regret, pity and self-hatred that followed her even after death, in a purgatory where the land was verdant, and the sky bright blue, yet lacked any trace of life apart from her.
Of the aching loneliness that pressed itself against her back like an unseen companion.
Of even more battles, over a shining grail, that promised salvation that was so near yet never within her reach.
She screamed, as the memories and recriminations of years, centuries even seeped into her very being. A constant torrent of bittersweet memories and melancholic sadness that seemed to crush her very being. The small part of her that still had enough self- awareness wondered who's memories these were, and how they managed to live through this?
And then, something else- vivid, and seemingly more recent memories.
Again more of the same, and yet, for the first time in what seemed like a long time, hope.
Laughing, smiles, a boy with vivid red hair and kind eyes, of memories that she would always cherish.
Of late night conversations, and the lightness of a soul who had found someone they had resonated with like they had never before.
And of a promise, to see each other again.
Unbidden, she calmed and a smile graced her lips.
The small part that was still Cersei couldn't help but share this joy, the young spoilt noble lady being in accord with the being that had been funnelled into her mind.
Cersei's consciousness scattered gently, melding with this new aspect that was now in control of her body.
And Arturia awoke.
Emerald green eyes flickered open with a start. She had been…
Immediately a blinding pain flashed in her head. Fighting through it, she pushed herself up clumsily against the headboard of the richly decorated bed she was in.
She definitely wasn't in Avalon anymore. Red and gold decorations hung almost garishly around the spacious bedroom she was in. Furthermore, this wasn't her body!
And yet, paradoxically, it was. Slowly the memories came back to her.
Her name was Cersei Lannister of House Lannister, daughter to Tywin Lannister.
But she was Arturia Pendragon, heir to Uther, and foster daughter to Sir Ector.
Again, the pain struck, and this time she attempted to soothe it with her hand, only to find it already occupied, clutching something with a death grip.
Caliburn?
Elation and confusion. Caliburn had been destroyed, and yet she would know the sword that was at her side for most of her life. Whilst Excalibur was indeed her most powerful weapon, Caliburn had a greater place in her heart, for it was the Sword that chose and set her on her path to Kingship. When it was broken in duel, she had been despondent for days, before Merlin had guided her to the Lady of the Lake for a replacement.
So why was it here? Did Merlin gather the pieces? But even so, why here and why now?
And where was here exactly? What on earth was going on?
Unlike the grail summonings which she had been subjected to many a times in the past, there was no influx of information to fill her in on her situation. In fact, to call it a summoning would be a gross inaccuracy, for she had not been summoned as herself, but apparently into someone. Even though a tiny part of her mind comforted her, telling her this scene was familiar for it was her bedroom, she was left with far more questions than answers.
Gritting her teeth, she extricated herself from the crimson silken sheets, determined to fill herself in, only to promptly fall as she attempted to rise.
First, she had to get used to this unfamiliar body.
The clattering from the next room immediately roused him from his uneasy sleep. Eyelids snapped open, and he clambered out of bed in haste, with only thoughts of his sister on his mind.
Cersei. She was awake!
His twin, his other half, was finally up and about. When his uncle had come back, carrying Cersei, his anguish at seeing her unconscious body pierced his entire body like a lightning bolt. She had seemed so small, fragile and vulnerable, in comparison to her usual vivacious self. The maester had been called, and yet as the hours passed they failed to see why she would not wake.
Even more curious was the fact that she had arrived unconscious with a sword grasped in her hand. An exquisite sword, that whilst not having the tell-tale pattern of Valyrian swords, was non-the less no doubt a magnificent blade that any Knight would be proud to wield. Jaime was surprised at this, for Cersei had never before shown any interest in such things.
Pointy sticks she called it. But even now she held it in a vice like grip.
All attempts to separate it from her ended inexplicably in failure, for she held onto it with an uncanny strength, and so, with nothing else to be done, she was settled in her bedroom, with the maester assuring all that all she needed was rest before she woke.
At first, he kept a restless vigil at her bedside, holding her hand, hoping that she would soon wake and then they could be a family again. Yet, as the hours passed, and then into days, Jaime stormed off in search of answers. He had cornered Melara, one of Cersei's companions, and through a stuttered and panicked explanation he had listened attentively to the circumstances that came to befell her.
The story was ridiculous, and to him made not much sense, but even so Jaime could not help but curse Cersei's actions. Still, even he was not blind to his sister's flaws, and the rash actions she had undertook without thought rung with a familiarity that Jaime. He had gasped when Melara recounted shakily of the conflagration that enveloped the shack, and of how despite her best efforts to extricate Cersei she had failed.
He had wanted to curse, or even hit her then, to blame her for the current state that his sister was in. But then, he had puzzled, for Cersei had not come in with any burns of any sort, apart from the stench of smoke that had clung to her dress and frame. Returning his gaze to his interrogee, he saw that her left arm was heavily bandaged, and the scent of medicinal ointments and poultices hung around her piteous state.
His gaze softened. Whilst he no doubt would have done the same, this young girl had still attempted something that even grown men would have hesitated to do, braving the inferno to help someone. Jaime had seen first-hand how terrifying a fire out of control can be, when a bakery in Lannisport had unexpectedly set ablaze during an incredibly dry and hot summer. The flames had lashed out like they were alive, and the screams of panicked townsfolk and even worse, the sound of the unfortunate baker and his family being burnt alive even now stayed with him in his memories.
This young slip of a girl, a woman had done her best. All for his sister, who was apparently responsible for the situation in the first place.
Gratitude flooded his heart, and without thinking he embraced Melara who had taken his harsh approach and subsequent silence for anger and was fighting hard to fight back tears.
"Thank you. Thank you for being there for my sister and doing your best."
She had immediately flushed red, and him too for he realised the breach in formality. Quickly jumping back, the children shyly went their separate ways, but not before exchanging the assurance that Cersei would soon wake, hale and hearty as ever before, for if she had somehow managed to survive the fire miraculously unscathed (that even now, the smoke of which hung over the forest like a black mist, visible even from the sills of Casterly Rock), she would now doubt recover soon.
That had been 3 moons ago.
The maesters and servants did all they could, changing her sheets daily, sponging her pale forehead, and carefully pouring broth into her delicate mouth. Jaime's heart relapsed into growing discontent and anxiousness, but non-the-less he held on desperately to the belief that all would be well soon, for if he did not he shuddered to think of the alternative.
But of course, none of that mattered now! He pushed open the door, and rushed to do the same to hers. Soon, they would be reunited, eyes meeting, and he would embrace her tightly, looking into those emerald eyes they both shared, her sweet voice calling his name, and they mayhap she would kiss him and then –
As he tore opened the door, he was indeed met with his beloved sister. Yet there was no embrace, no heartfelt reunion of siblings. Eyes of green, yet oddly luminescent, sparkling with surprise and also of trepidation met his, and his movement abruptly halted, for there was a sword, that sword, held unerringly with the point at his throat.
"I ask you. Who are you, and what do you think you are doing?"
An icy trill of horror screamed in Jaime's head.
"Cer- Cersei? It's me, your brother Jaime? Are you well?"
He watched as a myriad of emotions flashed across her face. Some familiar, that of recognition, understanding, love, but also that of fear, anxiety and also disgust of all things. Her face, that was no doubt hers and so familiar, suddenly seemed so strange to him.
"Cersei? You've been unwell and out for five days. We've been worried, I- I've been worried."
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! Did she truly not recognise him? Her own brother? He took a resolute step forward, disregarding the blade, hoping to touch her, to shake her back into her own self.
She stumbled back all of a sudden, and the sword, that even he a knight in training would have struggled to hold aloft with one hand steady, dropped from shaky fingers. He rushed forward as she fell, cushioning her body with his as they tumbled gracelessly to the floor.
Glowing eyes hesitantly met his, and he was reassured this time by the solid recognition in her eyes.
"Jaime?"
"Cersei. It's okay, I'm here now."
He soothingly ran his hand across her back as she lapsed back into unconsciousness. Things would be alright soon. Things would soon be back the way they were.
Even as he thought those words, a small part of his mind told him that things would never be the same again.