(A.N: Reviews and Comments make me write faster!)

I AM MOTHER

Chapter I

The last things Myrcella remembered after falling off her horse were the screams of Princess Arianne and Ser Arys, the warm feeling of blood trickling down her throat, scorching sun burning her skin through her veil, and the warm sand underneath her. She thought she had died. Until she woke up.

She found herself in a cool and dimly lit room.

Am I back in Sunspear? She wondered, somewhat disoriented.

As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light of the place, she could make out huge curtains covering the wall in front of the bed she lay in, letting in a sliver of pale and wan light. Myrcella could not recognize the room. She sat up in the bed and instinctively drew her hands to her neck. There was no pain, no bandages or scar covering it.

She was so confused. What happened?

The young girl climbed off the bed and immediately headed towards the draped window. She drew the curtains open and saw a misty horizon through intricated panes. A costly and gaudy detail that was too familiar. Where have I seen this?

She turned and took in the now illuminated chamber. The walls were covered in rich tapestries depicting scenes of flowers, ladies and little lions in a mirage of tints, and the floors are covered in thick, plush rugs woven from the finest wools. At the centre of the room sat the bed in which she had slept in; a massive four-poster bed with tall, carved columns of white oak and solid gold that reach high into the ceiling.

Myrcella recognised this place immediately. She was in Casterly Rock! In her mother's bedroom from her girlhood, to be precise. She and Tommen had slept here when they travelled to visit their grandfather years ago.

It has been very well maintained... It looks as if the furniture has just been made. She mused.

To one side of the bed, there was a writing desk made of the same white oak, with a comfortable chair upholstered in velvet to match some of the tapestries. In front of it, there was a mirror on a golden frame. Myrcella sat there and looked herself into the mirror.

The girl looked as she always had, with her golden hair falling in thick curls around her face and her green eyes staring back at her. She did look paler, but that might have been from the lighting of the room, and she now realized that she was wearing some new bedrobe. But other than that, she looked very much the same.

Yet something was different. Myrcella could feel it in her bones. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but she knew that something had changed. Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and in walked a servant. A thick middle-aged woman with a pudgy nose.

"M'lady pardons, but Lord Lannister has requested your presence in his solar." The servant woman said, her voice raspy and tired.

Lord Lannister? Myrcella thought, curious. She was quite certain that there wasn't a Lord Lannister anymore since her grandfather died. Her mother was supposed to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, or at least that was what Ser Arys told her. Maybe mother assigned a warden in her stead. She figured and nodded to the servant.

"Would you like me to help you dress, m'lady?" the servant woman asked.

"Yes," Myrcella replied and subsequently frowned. Her voice sounded different, not by much but enough to be noticeable. Perhaps it was the sleep, she thought and shrugged it off. "Yes, I would like so."

The woman led her to the ornate armoire with intricate carvings and a gleaming gold keyhole. She opened it and picked a gown –a pink one with golden lacing– carefully unfurled it and began to drape it over the girl's skinny frame. The dress fit perfectly, as if it had been crafted specifically for her, yet Myrcella could not recall ever having owned the dress.

The bedchamber remained very quiet, until came bustling in the plump but shapely figure of a noble woman who undoubtably was a Lannister; golden locks, piercing green eyes and a smile with perfect teeth. Her handsome features were complemented by a stunning crimson gown that could barely hold her breasts. She looked about the same age as her mother.

Myrcella only stared at the woman, expectant to a reaction.

"Good morrow to you too," the demeanour of the woman changed all of the sudden and her smiled curled downwards like sour milk. "Are you going to treat your aunt Genna like a stranger?" she asked, her voice sharp.

Aunt Genna?! Myrcella thought bewildered. It was impossible, this woman looked too young to be her great-aunt! And too thin as well… or at least according to what her uncle Jaime told her, she could hardly remember the last time she saw her.

"You must forgive me, aunt," Myrcella said apologetically, "I did not recognise you. You look so young."

Genna raised an eyebrow and studied her face. "Thank you, dearest," she said with an uncertain edge. "Anyways, I came here to see if you were ready to go and speak to your father."

Myrcella was taken aback. "My father?" she repeated, confused. Her father died almost two years ago, what was this woman talking about? Myrcella could not understand.

"Yes, your father," the woman snapped. "Good gods, girl, why are you acting so dense this morning?"

"I… " she hesitated.

But if she was uncertain, Genna was not. "Come," she commanded, and the Lannister woman took her by the arm and began dragging her out of the bedchambers. "Your father does not appreciate lateness, you know that."

Myrcella found herself at a loss for words, and allowed the woman to take her to "her father's" solar in silent.

As they entered the room, Myrcella's heart sank. Obviously it was not her father's solar at all, that was in King's Landing. She had never seen this room before in her life. The woman let go of her arm and gestured towards a chair in front of a large, ornate desk. "Sit," she commanded, and Myrcella did as she was told.

As she sat down, Myrcella began to take in her surroundings. The room was luxurious, with richly upholstered chairs and tapestries adorning the walls. A large window looked out over the castle courtyard, and the sunlight streaming in illuminated the dust particles in the air.

Suddenly, the door to the solar burst open and in strode a man. He was tall and lean, with blond hair and whiskers closely trimmed and piercing green eyes. Myrcella felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked up at him. It was Lord Tywin, her grandfather, looking very much alive and very much young. For a moment, Myrcella thought that it was a dream, until the man before her spoke.

"Good morrow Cersei."

Her heart froze, and a lump formed in her throat. A younger version of her grandfather had mistaken her for her own mother. The confusion in her mind swirled, making her feel dizzy and disorientated.

Tywin Lannister's piercing green eyes bore down on her, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. "You may be wondering why I have summoned you this early," he began, his tone brooking no arguments.

Myrcella's response was stiff, barely managing a nod as she struggled to process the absurdity of the situation. Does he mistake me for mother? The thought ran rampant through her mind, Does he think I am mother?

Tywin sat on the main chair of his desk and continued, "As you may know, the tourney in honor of the birth of Prince Viserys will begin some days from now. King Aerys, Prince Rhaegar and many other important lords will come and join us in this celebration. Cersei, as my daughter, I need you to be on your best behaviour."

Myrcella could only nod absent-mindedly. He thinks I am Mother… She realised disturbed. Her heart was beating so hard in her throat.

"I am the Hand of the King, and all your actions reflect upon me and our family. Do not embarrass me or our house." His manner was cold, calm and stern, leaving no room for argument. Yet his gaze expected an answer.

To which she just nodded.

Tywin continued, "You will also be formally presenting yourself to the King and Prince at the welcoming feast. Make sure you are appropriately dressed and comport yourself with grace and dignity. You are a Lannister, and you will behave accordingly."

She could not believe what she was hearing. This was madness.

"Do you understand, Cersei?" Lord Tywin asked.

Tight as it was, Myrcella's throat suddenly felt dry and scratchy. But she was able to managed to croak out, "Yes," before swallowing hard. The young girl suddenly remembered the morning and all of the sudden unfamiliarity. One moment she was dying in the scorching desert of Dorne and the next she wakes up unscathed, safe and alive in Casterly Rock.

Good gods…

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She paced back and forth, her footsteps echoed in the silence, the only sound in the bedchamber apart from her ragged breathing.

Over the course of the past phew hours, Myrcella had gradually come to the realization of three distinct and disturbing truths. Firstly, she died in the Dornish desert. The memory of her last moments came flooding back; the searing heat, the sand, the screams, the blood and the feeling of her mind slipping away. Secondly, and perhaps even more unsettling, she had somehow been flung back in time some twenty-four years, a realization that leaves her feeling profoundly disoriented and uneasy. Lastly, and most inexplicably of all, she had discovered that she was now irrevocably trapped within the body of her own mother.

As she continued to pace, she took in her surroundings again. The room was familiar, and yet not. It was the same bedroom she had slept years ago as a guest in her grandfather's castle, but everything was different. The furniture was new, the colours were brighter, and there were little trinkets, toys and decorations that she didn't remember ever seeing before.

What should she do? What could she do? The young girl had never felt so lost. Should she reveal the truth? If she does, will they believe her? Will they think her insane?

A sudden knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Myrcella froze, unsure of how to react.

"Cersei!" came through the door of the bedchamber the voice of a boy, so similar to her own… and her mother's.

Jaime! I completely forgot about him. Myrcella realized.

She hesitated for a moment before deciding to answer the door. Slowly, she made her way over to it and opened it a crack, peering out at the boy on the other side. "Jaime?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Jaime looked at her with a curious expression, his head cocked slightly to the side. "What's wrong? Why haven't you gone to see me? You said you would yesterday." he said, his tone gentle but accusing.

Myrcella swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I'm fine," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a little tired. Forgive me, but… Could you leave?"

"No," Jaime was not deterred and forced the door open making her stumble back a little. "Why are you acting like this?"

Myrcella hesitated and remained silent. She looked at him for a moment and examined his face. He looks just like Joffrey did at that age. And just like me… and Mother. She had never realized how much she looked like her brother. Had they been closer in age they could have passed as twins. The thought disturbed her.

The expression on his face changed from annoyed to worried as quickly as a lightning strike in the sky. "Talk to me sister," he insisted.

But she remained silent. Too uncertain of what to say. Will he notice that I am not Mother?

He stalked closer, and she noticed that his eyes bore a strange intensity for someone so young. "Cersei…" He half whispered, and raised his hand to touched her cheek in a manner far too intimate. Not even Trystane had been this brazen. "I missed you today…"

With his other hand, the boy touched her chest, just over her heart, and with his finger he drew a line until he reached the small of her back. Myrcella wanted to scream, but she felt paralyzed.

Myrcella cringed internally as his face got closer to hers. This is not how a brother treats his sister. She suddenly remembered the words of the letter her uncle Stannis wrote. The letter that started the war.

"…I declare upon the honor of my House that my brother Robert, our late king, left no trueborn issue of his body…"

Then he took his hand from her face and cusped the back of her head. "Cersei… my sister…" He whispered; she could feel his breath on her face.

"…the boy Joffrey, the boy Tommen, and the girl Myrcella being abominations born of incest…"

And then Jaime kissed her.

"…incest between Cersei Lannister and her twin brother Ser Jaime…"

Myrcella felt sick to her stomach as Jaime's lips pressed against hers. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening. She pushed him away with all the strength she could muster, and stumbled backwards, almost tripping over her own feet.

"Get out!" she screamed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disgust. "Get out!"

Jaime looked at her, confusion and fear etched on his face. "Sister,"

She screamed again, now with more strength. "GET OUT!"

Suddenly a group of red cloaks and a retinue of servants came rushing into the room, drawn by the commotion. "GET HIM OUT!" Myrcella roared to the guards. "GET HIM OUT!"

The boy looked wounded and frustrated. But he did not struggle when one of the guards took him by the arm and led him out of her bedchambers.

Once alone. Myrcella went to sit on her desk and saw herself in the mirror. My face, mother's face, Jaime's face, Joffrey's face. Same teeth, hair, lips, eyes and nose. they all looked the same… The girl thought, and began to cry.

Now, she came to realize a fourth distinct truth. The worse of them all.

Stannis had been right all along.

A.N: So new fic, huh?

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