The Neck sprawled before Cersei like a vast green ocean with tall trees cresting like waves and broken through by small islands of weirwood's red leaves. The sun's setting brought with it choruses of croaks and ribbes, caws and hisses and the occasional roar that made Jeyne Algood tremble in her dresses. The Lannister party had entered the swamps and bogs of the Neck four days prior after receiving an "escort" of Frey outriders.

"Escort," Tygett had grumbled darkly, "Old Walder probably sent them out to divest us of any valuables before running us off. But obviously they didn't figure how many of us there was and how well armored we are."

The small band of twenty or so horsemen had been lead by a broad buffoon of a man who claimed the name Merrett Frey and also claimed the honor of being fostered with Jamie at Crakehall. Though both Cersei and Tygett deduced that the fostering was certainly his only honor as he had not been knighted.

"I remember Ser Jamie quite fondly!" Frey had boasted as the party made their way up the Kingsroad, "Good friends we were and I hope we still are!"

Not bloody likely, she had thought to herself, If Jamie even remembers you it is probably with a bit of annoyance, much like how I will remember you.

The Freys had tried every means of persuasion to get them to spend a night at the Twins, first warning of the dangers of the Neck, then of the hospitality of their Lord, and finally insisting that the food was quite good.

Uncle Tygett had put the pompous oaf in his place when he wheeled his horse around and firmly said, "Your offer is generous indeed. But we have schedule to keep. However, should your honorable Lord Walder crave a Lannister's company, I'm sure my brother would welcome Lord Walder and his men at the war camp in Harrenhal along with all the other loyal lords of the Riverlands."

The jibe had made a few of the horsemen sneer and grumble but it flew fully over the head of Merrett who grinned like an idiot and declared that he would deliver the offer personally to Lord Walder.

And get a clout in the ear for it no doubt.

But as much as the Freys had been an annoying presence, they had also been a quite disconcerting one when the group reached the beginnings of the Neck. Where once the trees along the road had been rather beautiful and full, bit by bit along the road north they began to become gnarled and warped with fewer leaves on some or with others being overgrown. Eventually when they had come across the skull of a lizard lion on a thick wooden stake plowed into the ground, the Freys gave a rather hasty farewell before thundering back south down the road.

At first Cersei had just taken them for cowards but she soon learned that there was good reason to fear the Neck.

The first few hours in the Neck had claimed much from the unprepared group of Westerlanders. One of the wagons had been pulled into the mire when the team of horses leading it got spooked when a large snake crossed in front of them. However when the horses began to try to get out of the water, they had been pulled back into the murky ponds by something that hissed and roared. The terrified neighing only stopped when both beasts fell under the water and did not surface as the once green water began to take on a somewhat red hue.

After that, her uncle had ordered that men walk alongside the horses to ensure that the beasts wouldn't get away again should they get spooked. But the men themselves fared no better.

One of the guards, a household guard from Casterly Rock, a big man named Ovin was bitten by an odd colored snake as they set up camp the first night in a putrid glen filled with mud and puddles. He had laughed it off and said it hurt naught badly. The next morning he had been found dead in his blankets, skin grey and clammy, a look of pain permanently etched on his face.

From then on, no one was eager to go to sleep. Jeyne would sometimes scream in the night, thinking a snake was on her leg about to kill her only to find out that one of her blankets had wrapped about it. The men would always give their boots a good shaking before slipping them on and torches were kept lit all night in case they were needed to ward off the vile creatures.

The journey through the Neck soon became unbearable. The days were wet and cloudy when swarms of flies would surround one's head and buzz about the ears and in one's hair. The nights were sleepless with biting flies, loud swamp creatures and figures in the fog.

Finally they had come to this hill that sat alongside the rode and provided them with a campsite that would at least be dry. All about Cersei, large tents of red and gold were set up while she could see sentries walking back and forth along the bottom of the hill.

As the sun's last rays vanished from sight, she turned and headed back into her tent. The inside was pleasantly warm and actually quite dry, furnished with chairs, cots, and red all about. At the center of the tent sat a large table, laden with bowls of barley soup with carrots, loaves of dark bread, salted beef that had been cooked well in its juices, and a flagon of wine.

Sitting at the table were her companions. Lenelle, a distant Lannisport cousin, was sharing a jape with Elya Jast. Jeyne Algood was sniffling a bit as she sipped at her soup, still suffering from a chill. Septa Teselle was conversing quietly with Jeyne Falwell, who everyone called Pale Jeyne due to her almost unhealthy complexion. And at the head of the table, with an empty seat beside him sat Tygett Lannister.

Cersei put on her airs of nobility and gracefully wished everyone a good evening as she made her way to her seat. Jeyne offered a stuffy greeting and the other ladies offered their own as well. Uncle Tygett merely gave a grunt as he took another bite of the beef.

"So, uncle," she said, sitting down into her chair, "How much longer till we are out of this horrid bog?"

Tygett Lannister chewed his beef some more before swallowing and grunting, "Not long."

"That's what you said two days ago."

"Compared to a year this is hardly long."

Cersei glowered at her Uncle who continued eating. She couldn't say she was surprised at his behavior. Tygett was glib of tongue and rarely gave out courtesy. He simply did what ever duty her father gave him and that was it.

"Very well," she said, "And how many days is not long?"

"Two if we make good time."

"And if we do not?"

"Then we'll get there when we get there. This is the easy part. The harder part will be convincing the guards at Moat Cailin to let us pass."

Cersei scoffed, pouring a glass of wine, "From what I hear, it is just a ruin. We have enough men here to storm a holdfast. Besides, we bear the King's banner as well as my father's. They will let us pass."

"That all depends on how they view your father," Tygett eyed her, "And if Rhaegar is their king."

"Surely they must accept him," Lenelle spoke up, "Viserys Targaryen is just a boy."

"But the North even rose in favor of a female claim in the Dance. There is no telling with their savage lot," Pale Jeyne countered, using her vast time in her library that gave her such a white pallor.

Uncle Tygett simply snorted, "Savage or not, it is their forces that will either raise Rhaegar to a rightful kingship or break his army against the Hightowers."

Elya Jast just peeped up, indignant, "Everyone knows Rhaegar is the true King! He is older than Viserys!"

The other ladies in attendance bobbed their heads up and down in agreement. Like clucking hens looking for seeds, Cersei couldn't help but think. Her uncle just gave a small laugh that stopped the nodding.

"Aye, Rhaegar is older. Aerion Brightflame was older that Aegon the Unlikely as well. And before him, Rhaegel was elder brother to King Maekar. Age does not solely give kingship. A crown of a former king helps, but Rhaegar bears the crown of Aegon III while his younger brother wears Maekar's. Marriage to a powerful house works as well. But Rhaegar is married to Lords Paramount and Viserys is set to marry into a house that might as well be. Oft times, the decision was made according to who held the Iron Throne. But King's Landing is ashes and the Red Keep a near ruin. That is no longer the strong seat it once was. So now, it is down to blood. Blood and battle. And we'll see more of it before the end. Swords are forged in fire, and Kings in blood. And we'll need the Starks and their friends if we want to make sure it isn't our blood in the forging."

The room remained silent as Tygett finished up. Jeyne's sniffles seemed to have stopped at the dark words of the knight. Cousin Lanelle looked as though she was trying to digest a slug. Pale Jeyne seemed even paler and Septa Teselle had a tentative look on her wrinkled face.

And Cersei... Cersei had a lot to think on. Kingmaking was indeed a risky business with a possibility for great profit but also a threat of great failure. So why had her father joined in so early into the conflict? Had he hoped Elia might die in the conflict so that she may marry Rhaegar? Was he that confident in Rhaegar's victory?

Her thoughts were interrupted as her uncle finished his wine and stood up, giving a slight bow, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have some orders to give before turning in. Cersei. Ladies." And with that his large frame stalked out of the tent entrance.

The women all wished him a good night before continuing with their pointless discussions about silks and songs or whatever their feather filled heads could think about. All while Cersei's mind raced to why Tywin Lannister was playing the loyal bannerman...

Cersei tried to keep up with her uncle as he lead her through the thick mist, a flaming torch sputtering in his hand. She had to keep up. The torch was the only thing keeping the mists away. He couldn't leave her behind. She wouldn't last long alone.

"Where are we going uncle?" she asked.

The older man did not respond but picked up his pace, muttering, "Forward. Must go forward or all is lost."

Cersei grew indignant, "I demand to know where we are going."

"Forward."

"To where."

"To where all must go.

Cersei gripped his shoulder to pull him around to look her in the face but was horrified when she was confronted not with the face of her uncle but a grinning skull.

"We all must go forward," it clacked its jaws together before its arm fell to the ground, the armor protecting only dry bones.

Cersei screamed in horror as the skeleton fell apart, the bones and platemail creating a haunting clanging that echoed all about her. The torch fell to the ground with its arm and sputtered in the muddy dirt, threatening to go out. Cersei reached for it but in a matter of seconds the ground swallowed it up, leaving her with nothing but darkness.

She called out for help, begging, pleading with anyone to come to her aid. She may have been calling out for a few minutes or an eternity when she spotted a small light off in the distance.

Without hesitation she ran toward it, seeing the light source grow until she made out that it was three lanterns hanging outside a oddly colored tent. There was something familiar about it...

Quietly, she moved toward the entrance to open the flap but was stopped when she heard a voice, "When will I wed the prince?"

Her breath stopped. The voice was young, proud, arrogant. Hers. And the question was so familiar...

"You will not marry the Prince," croaked back an old voice, "But you will marry the man you truly love."

Cersei's eyes widened and she threw open the flap to see the ugly fortune teller, Maggy the Frog, grinning at a little blonde girl with teeth red with blood. Neither seemed to notice her though as the girl continued, "So I will not be queen?"

"Nay," Maggy shook her wrinkled head, "But you shall be as powerful and wealthy as one until you are thrown down by the False-Named."

"Stop asking her questions you little fool!" Cersei yelled at the girl but still the girl asked on.

"How many children will we have then?"

"You will have eight children and he shall have nine. Yours will steal crowns, hearts, armies, and minds. But in the end, it will be his child who will hold the realm in hand."

Child Cersei shook her head, "It will never happen. I won't let it!"

Maggy cackled before her yellow eyes bored into the elder Lannister as though she could see her, "You will try to keep your children's power and renown but one by one they will be stripped from you. And when you are alone and in the cold of winter, you will give your life for that of the Exiled Queen."

Cersei yelled, "Prophecy is not real! It is not!"

But the old witch just cackled and cackled, the dry rasping laugh echoing in her ears as the witch, her younger self and the tent all started to melt about her, colored cloth giving way to the cold void that dwelt outside it.

A hand gripped her and she looked to see her mother to her right, "Wake up, child it is just a dream."

Another hand gripped her from the left, her father's deadly eyes digging into her, "Wake up. Lannisters do not dream."

She turned to face ahead to see Jamie smiling sadly at her, "Wake up. We were just a dream."

"Wake up! Wake up!" a crow croaked from above in an almost jeering manner as it circled her, "Wake up! Wake up!"

The figures leaned in toward her as the crow circled lower, its three eyes piercing into her.

"Wake up, sweet."

"I command you to wake!"

"Will we ever wake?"

CAW!

"It is just a dream..."

"Listen to me!"

"We were just foolish children..."

CAW!

"North..."

CAW!

Cersei sat up with a yell as the caw of the crow turned into a rumble of thunder and the voices of her family melted into the soft pitter-patter of rain on canvas. Her skin was clammy with a cold sweat and her breathing still hitched and forced herself to gulp as much air as she could.

Emerald eyes scanned the room to see who she had disturbed with her nightmare only to see everyone fast asleep, Jeyne huddled and sniffling under her thick blanket, Septa Teselle snoring against a tent post, and Elya letting out little coos and giggles in a dream of her own.

The Lannister lay back down into her cot and tried to go back to sleep, wondering when they would get out of this horrid bog that she couldn't even escape in her dreams...

The escape came the next evening when the ruins of Moat Cailin were seen, rising like broken fingers above the mire. The ruins were old and shattered, their stones chipped and the mortar that held them was covered in moss and ivy. A wooden cause way passed between two towers. The tallest was thin and crumbling while the other leaned forward, almost threatening to tumble into the marsh about it. Ahead, the causeway passed under an ancient gatehouse whose portcullis was lowered over it. For all her uncle had praised it, Moat Cailin looked hardly formidable.

"What a ghastly ruin," Cersei muttered as they passed between the crumbling sentinels, "We could take this if we wanted to. There isn't even anyone here."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that Cersei," Ser Tygett grunted upon his black destrier, "That ancient gatehouse is old and thick. The land around it is mostly just water, and the entire surround is just one big target for the towers. As for no one manning it..." he nodded forward as a hooded figure stepped out onto the ramparts above the gate as the group approached.

"Halt!" a rather young voice called out from the figure above, "State your identity and your business!"

Cersei glared up at the man, "Are you blind to our banners or are you so old that you mistake this for the sigil of the Casterlys!"

A tight grip appeared on her arm and she turned to see her uncle glowering at her before looking up himself, "I am Ser Tygett of House Lannister and the... commanding maiden with me is my niece, Cersei daughter of Tywin. I have been commanded by my brother and our liege, King Rhaegar, to act as an ambassador to bring terms of alliance to Lord Stark at Winterfell!"

"Ambassador and terms," Cersei muttered spitefully to her uncle, "More like a brothel owner peddling flesh..."

"Quiet," her uncle responded gruffly as the figure above them disappeared into the gatehouse. The bog was silent for a few moments afterward before the clinking and grinding of the rising portcullis interrupted it. The same hooded figure they had seen above stepped from behind it, pulling back his hood and giving them a better look at him.

He wore simple yet well tended brown clothes and soft looking shoes that made no sound as he stepped toward them. But it was his hooded cloak which interested Cersei more. None could deny it was green in color, but the shades of green were not whole throughout. The cloth was not whole as might be expected but a large variety of scraps stitched together in such a way that it almost looked like he was wearing leaves, moss, and wood. But then she saw something glint on his breast. There, hanging about his neck was a bronze pendant with a lizard lion imprinted upon it.

The man himself seemed nothing too memorable either. He seemed to be about her age with dark brown hair, the slight whispy beginnings of a beard on his face, and soft looking dark green eyes.

He gave them a small smile, "Greetings Ser Tygett and Lady Cersei. I was expecting your arrival but still had to ask to truly know if it was you."

Tygett nodded, "You have my thanks, ser..."

"I am no ser," the man laughed softly, "Merely a humble servant of Winterfell, with orders to escort you straight to Winterfell upon your arrival."

"How did you know of our arrival?" Cersei butted in.

"Raven," the man replied, "King Rhaegar sent a message to Lord Stark to allow you passage into the North. Apparently my lord found it to be worth his time."

Her uncle nodded, "Well we thank you for your assistance. Allow us to return the favor. You seem to be undergarrisoned here. I could leave some of my men here to help hold it down."

The man simply gave him an almost enigmatic smile, "No need. After all, you've had a thousand arrows pointed at you as you came up that causeway. Just because you cannot see something doesn't mean it isn't there."

Cersei could not contain herself any longer, "You mean you've been ready to kill us just for approaching!"

"There is a large difference between being ready to kill and killing. Do not be alarmed. We would not have attacked without reason."

She was about to give the little man a scathing opinion of the large difference between decent folk and him when her uncle prevented her from doing so, "Well, lead on then. But as we are traveling together, might I ask you your name?"

The man smiled, pulling up his hood, "I am Lord Reed of Greywater Watch, but you may simply call me Howland."

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry if you are really impatient for Cersei and Ned meeting but it will be coming up in the chapter after next as the next chapter I hope to have multiple points of view all circling our favorite river fishes. Review and favorite if it catches your fancy or simply follow along for the ride.