Hi! I'm back, it's been a rough couple of weeks for me, so I couldn't do much writing, but I'm back now (hopefully at a steady pace if I get my shit together). I'm very excited for this story, and by the feedback I'm getting (holy crap guys, I was not expecting this much of it!) you are too.
Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I'm only playing in the sandboxes of Rowling and Martin.
Without further ado- Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Cersei's frustration and the first prank of King's Landing
Cersei's eye twitched. Repeatedly. Under normal circumstances, she was a cool and collected woman, very good at controlling her emotions. But when she got really angry, her left eye twitched. Repeatedly.
Why was the Queen who had no love for her husband, a husband off fighting a war, so angry? It was, of course, Robert Baratheon's fault. He wasn't there in King's Landing with her, but his letter was. At least she finally had an explanation for what happened about three hours earlier.
*Flashback*
The mid-day meal had just concluded when it started. At exactly 1:37pm, every man who wasn't a knight stood. They all cleared their throats and took deep breaths. Then they began to sing and dance:
We're men, we're men in tights.
We roam around the forest looking for fights.
We're men, we're men in tights.
We rob from the rich and give to the poor, that's right!
We may look like sissies, but watch what you say or else we'll put out your lights!
We're men, we're men in tights,
Always on guard defending the people's rights.
Cersei ran from the dining hall, worried about her people's sanity; defending people's rights? What a laugh! But nowhere in the castle was safe, everywhere she went, there was a group singing. Oddly enough, but not so odd, really, Varys the Spider wasn't singing and dancing.
We're men, MANLY men, we're men in tights. Yeah!
We roam around the forest looking for fights.
We're men, we're men in tights.
We rob from the rich and give to the poor, that's right!
We may look like pansies, but don't get us wrong or else we'll put out your lights.
We're men, we're men in tights (TIGHT tights),
Always on guard defending the people's rights.
When you're in a fix just call for the men in tights!
We're butch.
And then they all returned to their normal spots, and all of the men apologized profusely for their obscene behavior. Once she left, everyone talked in whispered to each other. For once, every noble was in agreement in their concern.
*End Flashback*
The letter the Queen received from her husband was both a relief and frightening. And completely rage inducing. And she wanted to meet this woman causing so much confusion for the 'great' Robert Baratheon.
The great oaf had managed to meet a very powerful Lady, who wasn't even intimidated by a Kingship, and could subvert a great many Ironborn alone. And he subsequently annoyed her, like an idiot. And this Lady was also a sorceress, by the sound of things. And a powerful one with a penchant for mischief.
The King would be met with a very unhappy wife and Queen. She wanted to ask, 'how bad could it get?' but realized that if she said it aloud it would likely get worse.
But this was bad enough, the damnable song. And every day at 1:37pm, the men stand up, and sing and dance, with that same stupid song. Oh, how the song stoked her hatred, and made her to be even more of a vicious, vindictive bitch than normal.
The Queen even conducted experiments. And she learned a bit about what was happening over the next week. Any man not in full armor, at 1:37pm, would begin to sing about 'men in tights'. This was if they were within the castle walls, and if they were not sick or injured. If they weren't wearing tights, whatever they were wearing turned into tights (TIGHT tights) for the duration of the song.
The worst part wasn't the daily dance number, nor the mysteriously appearing tights. It was that the song was insidious. Wherever she went, someone was always softly singing their favorite part of the song, as if trying to cure themselves of the curse. It was definitely a curse, Cersei decided, after the thirteenth day of theater-based torture.
Having declared it a curse, she received not an hour later a letter from Robert, with the good news that he was coming home with more honor and glory. Joy.
During her afternoon repast, a light meal with tea and pastries, a soft pop is heard behind her, and the Queen turns her head at a whiplash inducing speed to confront the interloper.
She sees a woman who exudes power, and knows instantly that the Lady of the Scythe is in her garden. Her eyes narrow as she assesses the woman who has captured the ever-noble, but married Eddard Stark's attention.
The woman is outfitted in an elegant dress that appears to be made entirely of a snake's shedding, though it appears to be only a single piece of material, and is more vibrantly green than any serpent she had ever seen. The thing must have cost more than any commoner earned in a ten lifetimes.
The Lady wore elegant and expensive jewelry, though it was also very tasteful. Black diamond string earrings, a necklace of emeralds and black gold, and talisman-like bracelets, along with a peculiar ring on her right thumb and an ethereal band on her left middle finger (a mythril ring that Morgana can use as a focus). The strangest thing was that every time she moved, her jewelry would glint with abnormal markings. Despite the gut reaction that these markings were imperfections, within a few minutes it was obvious that the markings were intentional.
And that was at first glance. Then jealousy and rage well up within the Queen as she notices how better this Lady is. Her eyes a more vibrant green, full of life and fun and mischief, but also wisdom. Her hair with a luster and sheen no normal woman could achieve, and a blood red only seen in the glinting of light that was quite enchanting. Her curves were more pronounced than the Queen's and her figure slimmer, but in a healthy way, otherwise. And worst of all, the impossibly smug confidence that spoke of powerful ease and no desire or need to follow the rules.
A true menace, and if Robert had his way, he'd wed and bed her. With absolutely no regard for her or her Joffrey, or even the baby growing in her now. But despite that, she couldn't imagine that happening. Especially not if she made 'friends' with the obviously dangerous woman.
All of these thoughts occurred in the space of less than three seconds.
A melodic voice cuts her musings short, "Hello Cersei Lannister, my name is Morgana Peverell."
"You must be mistaken, I am Queen Cersei Baratheon. I have married Robert, who I believe you have met."
"That changes nothing, you are still a Lannister, and you have similarly never thought yourself a Baratheon, save for that on time with your first son. Unfortunate, that was…"
Cersei bristled involuntarily at the mention of her true first-born. "How is it that you know of him?!"
"I cannot help but to read your surface thoughts, you project them so loudly; you should work on that, and when I said that you never considered yourself a Baratheon, that was the first thing in your mind." The immortal witch replied with just the right amount of sadness.
Cersei nodded stiffly, "Would you care to join me for tea and pastries?"
"Of course, Queen Cersei." Morgana sat, and charmed the tea to pour itself for her, and the necessary other ingredients to add themselves, using her ring, of course. Then she waved her hand over every item on her plate, checking for poison. She may be immortal, but poison was never welcome, besides, there's no need to give up her ultimate trump card so early.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking for poison. A very wise man once ingrained the concept of constant vigilance into my head. It's been six years since he died, and I still always check my food and drink, even what I occasionally prepare myself. I mean no offense."
The Queen nodded, then smirked, "If you mean no offense, then why not address me as 'My Queen'?" The query seemed reasonable and easy, but the mirth shining in the Scythe bitch's eyes was unsettling.
"Oh my, I seem to recall a very similar exchange with your Lord Husband. But I shall tell you, unlike him, the true Peverell words. 'Death does not bow, but to a Peverell'."
"And why are those your words? They seem quite presumptuous."
"Ah, this is the most fun part; you see, I will give you information, but I will not allow you to use it." Morgana says as she casts a complex secrecy-compulsion charm on Cersei. "You see, my ancient ancestors did craft three artifacts that united would grant the possessor immortality. And I have truly united them, and am immortal. I cannot die. And you cannot speak of this to anyone. For your part in making me give up a secret, I'll set into motion another prank. Bye now!"
And she popped away.
Just then, her precious Joffrey passed through the doorway arch to the garden, and his skin was turned a violent magenta. Cersei just really hoped that it wasn't in every archway. But the more pressing concern for her was the mangled rabbit carcass her little boy was holding.
The next day, she witnessed the fourteenth performance of that abominable 'men in tights' song, except it was a veritable rainbow that performed. Discolored hair, eyes, and clothes. Body hair and individual oddities. It was frankly very disturbing.
A note fell from nowhere, I'll see you again when Robby gets back. You might want to work on your eye twitching though. We'll talk business then.
AN: Hey, so I just cranked this out, I thought it was pretty decent. I appreciate your support, and I totally want more feedback. Also, comment with prank ideas. I have plenty, but new ideas are always good. ThatGreyAreaInCompanyPolicy