Disclaimer: I don't own Game Of Thrones or anything associated with either the Show or the Books.
AN: I am so sorry about the delay on this update, I honestly typed this up as quickly as I could but having to pick up a second job a couple weeks ago and catching tonsillitis while revising and sitting two exams meant I couldn't get much more than a hundred words written in one sitting. By the way I'm on strong antibiotics and painkillers right now so I apologise if my grammar or punctuation veers in places, heh heh, I have proof read this chapter a few times but given that my attention span is rather crappy at present I am sure I probably missed something.
Chapter Fourteen.
Head thrown back, the silken ends of her thick mane of waist-length golden blonde hair brushed against the supple musculature of her arched lower back and the thoroughly rumpled bedsheets beneath her firm backside, a thin sheen of perspiration made her pale flesh glisten in the dim grey morning light spilling across the magnificence of her bed, the Lannister Lioness let loose a satisfied growl that rumbled audibly in the hollow of her elegant throat where her Mother's golden pendent rested against her fiery skin. Heated whimpers and weakened moans, not her own, echoed loudly in her ears as she blindly stared up at the underside of the crimson velvet canopy adorning the four oak posts of her bed through half lidded unfocused eyes.
Spasmodically, Cersei's lean hips continued to arch upward, a vivid shadow of her former vigorousness now that she had followed her SheWolf and reached the glorious precipice of ecstasy. Heady pleasure continued to race potently through her veins like a raging storm setting ardent fire to every inch and curve of her desired body and her lover's delicate hands gripped her slender shoulders hard enough to leave behind light purplish bruises. The perfectly lissome muscles in Cersei's long legs, spread wide while Sansa's own naked limbs were draped over her hips in the centre of their bed deliciously meshing their wet cores together with each synchronised roll of their pelvises, tensed and shifted smoothly beneath her skin as her toes curled into the bedsheets under the soles of her feet. An involuntary grin lazily bared The Queen's perfect white teeth at the majestic golden lion painstakingly woven into the heavy canopy overhead as she held her satiated lover in her lap.
A slaked purr resounded in Cersei's heaving chest as her passion swollen breasts intimately touched against Sansa's soft mounds of warm flesh and their flat stomachs melded into one another's. Her SheWolf's hot breath brushed over the shell of her ear in desperate gasps as the younger woman attempted to regulate her breathing and clutched at her in the aftermath of desire. Entirely spent after a full night of endless lovemaking, Sansa's head rested heavily in the crook of Cersei's elegant neck and her Paramour's long thick red hair fell over her shoulder and upper arm, caressing her sensitised skin as she cradled the beautiful flawlessness of her lover's quivering form against every inch of her body. The Queen's jade coloured eyes fluttered as she tenderly stroked the tips of her fingers up and down the smooth stretch of her SheWolf's back, a feather-light caress that sent goosebumps rising up from Sansa's fair skin, pressing into the pads of her fingers as the younger woman shivered responsively and her SheWolf's legs tightened around her slim waist.
Languidly running the backs of her knuckles along the refined length of Sansa's spine, the soft ridges of her vertebrae slightly dampened with sweat, Cersei captured the nape of the redhead's glorious neck between her thumb and forefinger and gently kneaded the pleasantly lax muscles buried beneath her lover's smooth skin. Before she delicately wrapped the heavy fall of her cherished SheWolf's long red hair around her elegant fist and swiftly coaxed Sansa's head back, off the slope of her shoulder, so that she could stare intently into the younger woman's brilliantly pale wolf eyes. Her swollen red lips parted with lascivious appreciation as she silently observed Sansa's sky blue and dove grey eyes were half lidded and her aristocratically sculpted cheekbones were stained with an exerted flush. Her Paramour's refined beauty was always amplified a thousand-fold in this post coital state, after she had devoted hours to worshipping her younger lover's delectable body to the fullest extent with every honed skill she boasted and after she had been the welcoming recipient of similar, less adept but exhaustively ardent, attentions from Sansa.
Unbidden, The Queen's hips suddenly canted upward smoothly into the cradle of Sansa's mesmerising body forcing a short soft cry of pleasure from the younger woman's intoxicating lips as their sensitised wet flesh met in a hot and most intimate kiss. Cersei bit back a moan of such rapture that the lean muscles in her neck jerked visibly as her heart fluttered and heat swept down. She clenched her oval shaped jaw so tightly a persistent tick formed in her cheek as a wave of scolding lust once again pooled in the pit of her stomach and the ever burning warmth thriving inside her chest blossomed, burning brighter. Sansa clutched at her shoulders tighter, and as she held the younger woman close in her lap with sure hands, she felt her lover's short sharp nails graze over her pale flesh, doubtlessly leaving soft red welts trailing through the light purple bruises accumulated across the backs of her shoulders. An idle smile returned to The Queen's lips. She truly relished how unrestrained her lover was in bed though it had taken some time for Sansa to become so quietly confident, for the first instance she savoured being marked by a bed-partner and she enjoyed knowing she was primarily responsible for coaxing free such molten passion from the once timid redhead.
Not for the first time, indeed there had been many an occasion that, tender hearted words piled heavily onto the tip of her tongue, reverent and gentle, sweet nothings worth a full grown Dragon's weight in gold, words that once again refused to run free from her clutches even though she fervently wished for it to be otherwise. No matter how hard she struggled, like a wild animal existing in captivity repeatedly throwing itself against the steel bars of its oppressive cage in the vain hope of attaining freedom, she couldn't quite seem to make herself echo the three simple words that Sansa had whispered in her ears a thousand times since her Paramour had first tearfully declared during the Battle of Blackwater. Something prevented her from making herself so open, so irrevocably vulnerable.
Her comfortability with emotional attachments had broadened quite considerably during her time with Sansa but her Lord Hand had relentlessly trained her from the day of her Mother's death to guard herself against the possibility of caring for anyone outside of her own House and to limit her connections to those within her family. If she were naïve, she might have considered that almost perversely caring on her Father's part, even speculated that perhaps he didn't want his cubs to suffer like he had when his mate was stolen from him. But she knew the truth, appearance and reality were two very different things, to love another made a person open to the gravest of injuries, a crippling wound to the heart should it ever be lost or that trust be betrayed. Any Lannister worthy of bearing the name, at her last count there were only three, had a pathological reputation for being cold and cunning, or at the very least they were highly reputable, and it was their, almost sacred, duty to maintain that reputation by any means necessary.
Her Lord Hand did not tolerate weakness in even the lowliest of Lannister's hence his swift quashing of her bereaved Uncle following the slaying of his sons. Ser Kevan Lannister would not be allowed to re-enter the public eye until the Head of their House was satisfied he had properly composed himself. Neither she, nor her Father, could not allow a perception of them that would damage their reputation as a feared and respected House to fester and pulsate like an abscessed wound leaking yellow pus across clean white bandages. She sat on the Iron Throne, she controlled Seven Kingdoms and the preservation of the Lannister Legacy was crucial to the Lord Paramount of the West. Strength of will was needed to maintain their way of life, the only thing that could. But where she ruthlessly protected what could weaken her, Sansa and her cubs, by any means necessary to fortify her reputation and standing, her Father destroyed pointedly and uncaring of the calamitous object.
Love, the loss of it, had destroyed her Father's ability to know true happiness and his willingness to accept it in others. In many ways Tywin Lannister was a Lion absent his sense of smell, he still possessed all his other keen senses, his fangs and claws, making him still extremely dangerous to all but he was incomplete. Love could tear an individual apart just as easily as it could inspire a person to new spires of life.
With her long slender fingers still buried in the wealth of her lover's thick silken hair, Cersei dragged Sansa's head down to hers and pressed their foreheads together as her other arm tightened around her SheWolf's gloriously naked body, pulling the younger woman ever closer to her in her lap, utterly unwilling to allow even an inch of space to exist between them. An easy silence wrapped around their closely entwined bodies as the grey morning light spilling across the rumpled crimson bedsheets slowly lightened with the rising sun shinning in through the golden paned window dominating the far-side wall of the expansive polished marble chamber. She tilted her head and ghosted her lips down the softness of Sansa's porcelain pale cheek to press an adoring kiss to the corner of her Paramour's mouth, guiding the younger woman into a smooth melding of soft lips and tongues dancing in unison. While Sansa moaned with passionate abandon into their kiss, the tender words she had felt writhing in her mouth just moments before begrudgingly accepted their fate, ceasing their wild struggling against the bars of their cage and collapsing in fatigue. Cersei tore her lips away from Sansa's, leaving them both slightly breathless, she rested their foreheads together once more and sighed heavily. The Queen swiped her red tongue over her full lips, savouring the remaining traces of her lover's sweet taste, like fine wine and ripe fruit in Summer. She didn't make a noise or utter a single word but buried deep in her heart a Lioness bowed her golden head and snarled, mourning another lost opportunity.
It was the Gift and Curse of being a child of the Great Tywin Lannister, of being raised in his immense shadow on the legendary crags of Casterly Rock. She could make the 'little birds' around her believe with absolute certainty that she felt one thing and was following one iron-clad line of thought when in actuality she cozened them into an elaborate labyrinth of falsity, all with the greatest of ease, but when it came to expressing the truth of what existed within her heart and mind, she could feel the unrelenting callousness of her Lord Father's hand tightly coiled around her throat, robbing her of breath and stealing her ability to speak. What did it say of her character?, that she could design undetectable lies, intricate plots and deadly snares with more efficiency than a spider could weave a silken web but she couldn't whisper the truth of her devout affections for Sansa?. By the Gods there were a dozen possible answers but her SheWolf had already caught scent of her own conclusion.
Cersei tightened her arm around her lover's waist, kneading the slim curve of the redhead's hip with one hand while with the other she softly caressed the younger woman's nape. Sansa's gentle hands stroked over her shoulders so tenderly that the horribly profound ache in her chest began to ease slowly as she cradled her SheWolf's naked body in her lap on her large four-poster bed. The younger woman's long legs flexed around her tiny waist, a single soft fluttery motion across the rumpled crimson bedsheets bathed in mellow morning light. A soft contented purr rumbled in the hollow of her throat and her eyes drifted closed when Sansa started to stroke soft fingertips over her face, tracing the elegant contours as though the redhead were utterly captivated by her ageless beauty.
Her sigh of delight at her Paramour's loving touch made her entire body tremble in response, a fluid shifting of muscles beneath pale skin. She forced her eyes open to find an idyllic smile painted across Sansa's invigoratingly resplendent face, her breath caught in the back of her throat at the beauteous sight bearing down on her from above. There was a unique understanding in her lover's gorgeous eyes that fascinated her, a knowing glint that sparkled brightly in the younger woman's pale blue-grey orbs like the golden streams of newly emerging light outside the broad window. Her SheWolf understood that she was plagued with an internal quandary. She couldn't possibly identify the exact moment Sansa had learned how to read her but it never failed to make her smile to herself because it solidified what had been building for since the first; she was inside Sansa as much as the redhead was in her, they possessed each other, no longer did they exist on their own, now they belonged to each other. Sansa gave voice to that visceral bond every time the younger woman whispered to her of her love but she just couldn't reciprocate with words even in the quiet realm of their shared chambers. That her SheWolf knew how she felt and quite happily settled for harbouring that unexpressed knowledge close to heart didn't matter, Sansa deserved to hearher recognition of the ties that bound them but she was barely able to admit the connection to herself though she felt it down to her very bones, carrying warmth and vitality into her every fibre. But she was her Father's daughter.
Cersei smoothed her graceful hands up over the subtle juts of Sansa's slight hips, finally urging the younger woman to unfold her long legs from around her waist with a soft push against the sweat-slicked plane of of her lover's flat stomach. The right corner of The Queen's succulent mouth tilted upward at the soft, spent mewl of protest that fell from her SheWolf's full lips while she gently extracted herself from her Paramour's embrace, tucking her legs under her muscular rump as she rose up onto her knees atop the askew crimson bedsheets and watched with a gentle gleam in her jade coloured eyes as Sansa sluggishly draped her naked body over the collection of plush pillows strewn against the headboard in a thoroughly dishevelled state, the younger woman's long red hair spilled across the expensive satin encasing the pillows still adorning the large bed, several had been sent over the edge to the marble floor. She leaned back further on her knees and rested her hands on her bare thighs, she watched in silent awe as the morning light caught Sansa's pale wolf eyes, making them sparkle like precious gems.
Cersei cocked her head to the side, fondness in her chest and a lazy tilt to her lips as Sansa's pretty eyes fluttered tiredly. "I do hope I've not worn you out too thoroughly, my dear. If you recall, I vowed to take the children out into the City today and they will be most upset if you are unable to accompany us. Do not mistake that for any form of an apology however" She grinned smugly. She enjoyed nothing more than filling their nights with pleasure, the consequent fatigue the following day be damned, the enjoyable ache in her joints was well earned.
Majestically with the long fall of her golden blonde hair falling down over her lightly bruised shoulders and brushing the sheets beneath her, she crawled on all fours to the edge of her bed, the thick and downy furs of various lethal beasts that were scattered across the floors touched her bare soles as she graciously climbed to her feet. She was highly aware of her lover's grey-blue eyes caressing the perfect lithesome contours of her body like a physical touch. Just as confident naked as she was fulling clothed, she strode around the side of her shared bed to the wide and deepset oak trunk nestled there at the curved footboard, the lid of the trunk had various types of miniature sea shells carved into the polished wood along the edges and proceeding down along the sides, it was a simplistically grand design that boasted the same eloquence of all her possessions, now mingling with Sansa's. She stroked a long slender finger down the slip of her long silk robe casually folded atop the lid of the trunk where she had placed it the night before. Lifting the fine gold and crimson material into her grasp, she slowly engulfed herself in the thin robe that fell to her dainty ankles and moved her nimble fingers to the task of securing the sash loosely at her middle. A light breeze flowed freely into the chamber through the solid gold window panes, forcing her to feel an acute awareness of the perspiration still drying on her upper chest where the top of her robe split open down into the valley between her pert breasts. She stifled a shiver and the inclination to return to bed and her SheWolf's warmth. She had a schedule to keep to and the requirements on her time did not evaporate because of her personal wants, but that did not mean she couldn't integrate the two. Today would be an opportunity to get a sense of where public opinion lay, it wasn't overtly important but it would be useful for later contemplation, knowledge, after all, was a tool of her trade.
"An apology is the one thing I cannot ever foresee passing your lips, Cersei..." Sansa murmured thoughtfully.
Cersei's blonde head snapped up from the task of tying the two inch-thick sash of her robe into a loose knot, her shrewdly intelligent eyes flew to her lover as the redhead pointedly looked away from her with a tender smile brimmed with knowing on her face as she toyed with a corner of the large rectangular pillow the younger woman leaned back against.
To ward off the chill that had set in after The Queen had left their bed, Sansa had pulled the fine-textured and expensive bedsheets up to cover the gloriously mesmeric silhouette of her naked body, the top edge of the Lannister red bedding was folded and the plush softness was tucked beneath her pale arms. The perfect shape of Cersei's left eyebrow arched as she studied the free and teasing curve of her SheWolf's full pink lips, a pleasantly astounded smile soon found itself mirrored on her own face; so Sansa had faith in her abilities to release the cage door that held back those tender-hearted words restlessly rebelling against their seemingly unbreakable constraints. Her smile withered somewhat and she turned her head, glancing away from her cherished Paramour as she redeployed her attention to finish tying her robe's sash. The restriction on her was forty years strong, even with the greatest effort such a thing would not break easily, if ever.
"And Myrcella would hunt me down with Tommen on her heels if I fail to make an appearance today" Cersei looked up again to find Sansa wearing a radiant grin at the mention of the two Royal children, she recognised that look, maternal affection for the lively pair. Her SheWolf loved her cubs like her own, it was obvious to anyone who cared to look, to anyone who could actually see. Her chest began to hurt with an overwhelming feeling, a throbbing pang that almost had her pressing her hand to the achy sensation in an attempt to ease it, instead she traced her lover's sculpted features with her eyes and moved her elegant hands to rest lightly on her hips. She took a deep breath and exhaled silently.
"That is a certainty, darling, and I claim full responsibility for their tenacity" Cersei smirked.
She was suddenly struck with how true her words were, she dug her fingers into the flesh of her lean hips through the silk of her robe as she gazed back at Sansa, drinking in the sight of her SheWolf. Her two cubs were gentler than she ever was even at their age but she definitely saw pale shades of herself in them. Prominently in Myrcella, in the girl's fiery wilfulness. There was considerably less of her in Tommen, that was plain to see, but still his softness chimed in unison with something familiar buried deep within her and yet she found it almost entirely foreign; compassion. Jagged shards of similarity linked herself and Joffrey, they could both be unimaginably cruel, and upon occasion she sincerely savoured the suffering she could inflict on a whim, however she was never cruel absent a good reason, her disavowed son needed no such prompting.
When she wanted something she pursued that goal with single-minded determination, she manipulated with frightening precision, she methodically removed the obstacles standing in her way and she forcibly shaped events into an arrangement that satisfied her. One way or another she would find the key to her cage or else a way to break free without it. Even if it was just the once, exhaled on her final breath however many years in the future when she was on her deathbed, she would make her amorous confession to Sansa.
The balmy breeze teased the ends of Cersei's long blonde hair, making the thick and glossy mane dance tamely in the wind as she confidently stalked through the wide streets of King's Landing at the heart of an excessive escort. Five hundred men would have been be fit enough escort for any Targaryen Queen or King, but she was not a Targaryen.
Three thousand Lannister soldiers clad in their dark red armour and polished helms marched in a long rectangular column hollowed protectively around her, in a formation narrow enough to fit through the winding streets of her City. Some of Tywin Lannister's best trained men, assembled in such great numbers they could fend off a force thrice their size for a few hours, they were conditioned to fight down to the last man in the revered name of Lannister. At her Lord Father's behest they had been awaiting her when she had made to leave The Red Keep with Sansa and the children, a brazen symbol of her supreme authority and importance, and by extension the dominance of her House, as much as an escort for her.
The Gold Cloaks as well, all two thousand men, had been summoned to their posts around King's Landing upon receiving word that their Queen would be venturing out into the City for the first time since that despicable revolt in Flea Bottom. Cersei had never held much faith in the City Watch, but she was especially displeased with them after that day, when she had been forced to leave The Red Keep, in the middle of an uprising that resulted in the High Septon being torn to pieces by the commoners consumed in an animalistic rage directed at Joffrey, to seek out her children and her lover only to return sheathed from neck to toe in blood. Her own safety hadn't mattered to her, much to Sandor's horror, but she had nearly lost the three people she cherished the most and she vividly remembered the resulting weight of dread in her stomach and the vile taste of fear in the back of her mouth. The Gold Cloaks, those incompetent fools, had only arrived in time to see the her holding a frightened and injured Direwolf pup under her arm as she hastily ushered her equally traumatised family into The Red Keep and Sandor bringing up the rear with the savage who had attempted to rape Sansa slung over his massive shoulder like a sack of putrid grain. She would never allow a recurrence of that day to happen.
The late noonday sun shone brightly overhead, catching the multitude of aged stone buildings - the unimpressive dwellings of the general populace, the workshops of permanent traders with their wooden signs showing obvious symbols of their trades hanging above the simple doors, the vine-covered manses of lesser Lords visiting the Capital or merchants possessing enough wealth, gained through honest means or otherwise, to live in such estates with small moderately well tended gardens accessible from the streets – all of them were enveloped in the mild golden rays sweeping across the landscape like a great river washing away all the recent unpleasantness. The Great Sept of Baelor stood proudly, almost as impressive as The Red Keep itself in size and majesty, looming over the other lesser structures and spaced slightly apart from them, next to long line of truncated coast that dropped into the deep blue ocean. Even if there was someone in the Seven Kingdoms truly ignorant enough not to know the relevance of the Sept, the sheer size of the structure itself would be enough to proclaim it's importance, the vast shadow cast by the Sept besmirched a hundred of the smaller buildings, maybe more. The Red Keep however was a thousand times greater than The Sept of Baelor, it was larger, the construction was much more complex, her 'Eyes' discovered more hidden alcoves and concealed passages every day for her utilisation, but The Keep's size and magnificence was only rivalled by it's legendary prestige, it's never ending secrets and it's rotten corruption.
Hypocrisy was at every street corner and walkway in King's Landing, tainting the scent of fresh salty air billowing into the stone landscape from the ocean on rustling waves. Cersei could smell dishonesty falling off of the commoners, the more affluent were relatively well dressed while others were clad in a more garish attire, trying to gawk at her and her companions through the solid walls of broad soldiers while attempting to appear as though they were simply going about their daily business. She rolled her eyes scornfully as she continued to regally stalk down an unimportant street between neat rows of small, two floor, houses at a steady confident pace.
Over the deafeningly thunderous sounds of three thousand pairs of armour-plated boots pounding against the stone ground beneath them, the protesting squeaks of stacked wagons being pulled from destination to destination and the cries of gulls soaring about overhead, what she found more offensive than the repulsive scent of hypocrites was the blatant lies she could hear being spewed from the mouths of every plainly dressed herald she passed on every street corner. As was her intention, she was infallible now that she had made the truth of her relationship with Sansa public knowledge, she was vindicated of being wrongly accused of incestuous liaisons with her twin and giving life to three bastards but apparently none of her 'loyal' subjects living within the walls of the City had ever believed such nonsense. Behind her cold mask of indifference, Cersei viciously scowled to herself. Even now there were people quietly condemning her behind closed doors for bedding another woman but her power was secure. The sycophants she was surrounded by knew nothing of ethics or allegiance, they were double-tongued, her own sense of morality was questionable by most standards and by most people but at least she was consistent. She could quite happily rip out the prying eyes and duplicitous tongues from all five hundred thousand of the general populace for their insults and false apologies, she would enjoy the act immensely, but she knew such an abundance of bloody violence would deeply upset Sansa and her cubs. The peasants and vultures would never be forgiven for thinking the worst of her family, and she would not forget their derogatory slurs, but now, when all the recent chaos of war was lessening, it was not the time for settling personal vendettas. Now was the time for further consolidation, the exact policy she would employ when The Hound returned to the Capital with Robb and Catelyn Stark but she would not deal so lightly with Lords Frey and Bolton. She was shamelessly biased, of course, but that was her prerogative.
Encased between phalanxes of primed soldiers, with her Queensguard and absent both Jaime and Sandor forming a semi circle two paces behind her and her beloved companions, Cersei was suddenly distracted from her conniving thoughts by the feel of a warm slender hand slipping into her own as she walked down the Street of Flour where most bakers plied their trade in curt buildings with narrow tables assembled outside to display their freshly cooked wares, leaving the light breeze to softly carry a pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread and a variety of pies down the long street to entice custom from passers-by. She could hear Myrcella and Tommen's chattering animatedly amongst themselves, about everything and nothing in the way children do, as they strolled, their shoulders brushing together occasionally, along the white cobblestones a step in front of herself and Sansa. Her treasured cubs were absolutely ecstatic to be outside in the City, held apart from the regular bustle though they were by the walls of soldiers, she could tell from their wide smiles and bright eyes that they were enjoying the simplistic change immensely.
The slight hand clasped in her own squeezed her palm so gently she almost didn't register the touch, cocking her head to the side as she and her large company strode languidly down the busy street, the corner of Cersei's luscious mouth curled into an affectionate half smile as she idly admired the sun-bathed features of Sansa's exquisitely beautiful face, the clear shimmers of joy shinning back at her through pale wolf eyes made her full lips curl into a bigger smile. With her free hand she slowly guided Sansa's warm palm to the crook of her inner elbow, over the expensive Lannister red material of her highly fashionable dress, and covered the back of her lover's hand with her own palm, an intimate gesture in plain view of everyone glancing at them and an unneeded affirmation of the rumours bouncing from all corners of King's Landing. A delighted grin spread on Sansa's face, displaying perfect white teeth, as they steadily ambled together down the street, the intrusive pounding of their escort's armoured boots resounding from all directions. Sansa suddenly frowned, musing silently to herself, and the redhead's fingers tightened around her elbow like the younger woman feared she would fade on the breeze. She nearly growled in response, she was irritated to see the bright smile on her Paramour's face evaporate, but she suspected she knew the reason for it. She patiently waited for Sansa to speak and slowly began to draw little soothing circles on the back of her SheWolf's hand, clutching the inside of her elbow, with the pad of her thumb.
"Is this safe?" Sansa's light blue-grey eyes darted to her hand on The Queen's slender arm, suddenly fearing she had erred by reaching for her lover in public.
Cersei made a noise in the back of her throat, she had been expecting that particular question after their conversation the day before. She cast a glance around the walls of soldiers surrounding her and her family, the phalanxes were formed up six yards around them from either side, far enough away that over the sounds of their heavy boots hitting the cobblestones none of the men would overhear them talking. Her ruse was privileged knowledge for the people she trusted only.
"When you understand the thing, controlling it comes naturally. I understand people..." Cersei removed her hand from the back of Sansa's palm, her lover's hand remained touching her arm, she gestured outwardly at the crowds as they walked, a cynical smirk played at the corner of her mouth as she stared at her SheWolf.
"...They will never believe me capable of caring for anyone other than my children, never, no matter what they see to the contrary..." She shook her head slowly as she dropped her hand to her side "...This belief is mostly accurate. I never cared for any of my former lovers, they were a convenience to me, nothing more, and people will think the same of you. That belief will keep you safe from people who want to hurt me and it is inflated two-fold because you are a Stark and I am a Lannister, prominent members of two Houses with every reason to hate each other. To the Realm you are my victim, they think I am using you as a bed warmer to insult the memory of your father, or some such nonsense..." Cersei haughtily cast her intelligent eyes out among those she ruled, watching them like a lioness tracks her prey, analysing them like only a descendant of Lann the Clever, who swindled Casterly Rock from the Casterlys using nothing but his wits, could.
"...This congregation of hypocrites feel sympathy for you, Sansa, in their eyes you are my possession, the spoils of war being openly flaunted" She drawled.
"A distorted appearance that hides reality" The younger woman sidled closer to her side as they, and their company, meandered through the streets without an iron clad destination in mind, the redhead dropped her hand away from her elbow and she subsequently snaked her arm around Sansa's slender waist possessively. Her SheWolf blushed slightly and smiled, leaning closer to her.
"Indeed..." Cersei purred her agreement as her hand came to rest on her Paramour's hip. She smiled as she looked ahead to Myrcella and Tommen as they laughed together at some unheard jest. She was happy that the they were happy, and pleased to known that the vultures staring at her thought it was arrogant pleasure and not true contentment she felt.
"...Of course, there will come a day when someone will ask themselves if that is all true, why you are still my Paramour after so long, that is why false rumours of 'other' concubines must be widespread, to maintain the ruse as we discussed." Cersei tightened her arm around Sansa's waist, her lover cuddled into her side as the sun bared down on them from above, over the rooftops of the buildings they passed.
"I wonder what my Mother will believe?" Sansa nibbled on her lower lip slowly and sighed heavily. Her lover was developing her Mother's wisdom, her SheWolf knew the reunion with her family would be confrontational just as Sansa knew full well and trusted that she wouldn't punish the other Stark's, severely.
"Catelyn is a smart woman..." Cersei murmured softly, knowing full well that Robb Stark was a stubborn dunce and the quickest most direct path to a truce with her Paramour's House would lay in reasoning with the Northern matriarch, after Sandor had secured their safety in her name.
Sansa nodded, her breathing hitched slightly with yearning for her family, a longing she understood all too well, they were both missing family. She tilted her head, musing where Jaime was in the Kingdoms now that he was free from his captors and pondering about the progress Sandor and his expeditionary force had made on their journey to The Twins. She had received word that the marriage between Edmure Tully and one of the numerous Frey girls would take place by early evening this very day. Cersei rolled her eyes scornfully, Robb Stark was a fool for thinking his desperate attempt at forging an alliance against her House would be successful after he refuted his word to Walder Frey. The Wolves were fortunate she had a vested interest in their longevity.
"...For all her hatred of me and mine, she loves you more. You are happy here with me and the children, yes?" It was a redundant question and they both knew it.
"Yes, of course" Sansa confirmed immediately. Cersei tightened her arm around the redhead's supple waist and squeezed her Paramour's hip as they turned onto another residential street when she felt her younger lover's head come to rest on her shoulder trustingly.
"Happiness is the only thing a Mother wants for her children, yours will come to see the truth or she will accept what she believes is a lie, for you. Regardless we shall soon move on from all this unpleasantness." She didn't plan on giving Robb and Catelyn Stark much choice to do anything else. She smiled warmly at the optimism her words had sparked to life in Sansa's pale wolf eyes.
As the sun set on the horizon outside of the huge gold paned window behind her, turning the sky a swirling mixture of purple, pink, blue and light grey, a heated and vile curse that would make The Mountain blush in shame, burst free from Cersei's mouth as she carefully examined the four aged but fastidiously preserved tomes she had found sitting side by side with a perfect inch separating the spines on the surface of her large polished oak desk when she had returned to her shared chambers just moments before. She had already sent Myrcella and Tommen back to their own rooms in the company of their cautiously selected attendants and guards to bathe before dinner. The Prince had conceded to her will with a smile and brief embrace before hurrying through the halls to his chambers. Her Heiress, on the other hand, had insisted that she be allowed to groom and feed Duchess before being accompanied not by her Handmaids but by Sansa to her rooms to bathe.
The Queen nearly smiled lovingly at the fresh memory until her attention was once more focused on the books bound in worn black leather in front of her, she sank into her high-backed, elaborately carved chair and rested her elegant palms flat on the edge of her grand desk. She knew exactly who had placed the books there so precisely for her discovery. Only one person in the Seven Kingdoms had the right to enter her luxurious furnished chambers while she was absent from them and so pass unhindered by the guards she had stationed outside the door, only one person had the steely nerve to breech her Den that she now shared with her SheWolf. Tywin Lannister. That he had come into her chambers without invitation didn't truly bother her, he was the one person she couldn't control even if she did desire to, what irritated her most was the newest conundrum her Lord Father had presented her with. She rubbed her temples as she turned inwardly into the vast halls of her knowledge.
The four tomes pertained to Dragons and had been read by exceptionally few people. She knew a little about their context but even she had not read them.
Blood and Fire was a fragmentary and generalised study of Dragons written by an anonymous author, supposedly the only surviving copy in existence was locked away in the vaults beneath the Citadel, the Maester's Headquarters in Oldtown in The Reach. She had no way of knowing if her Father had ordered its excavation or if the book in front of her was part of some secret collection the Head of her House hoarded in an undisclosed location. She wouldn't be surprised either way. Her shrewd eyes turned to the second thick tome on her desk.
Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History by Septon Barth. Cersei took a breath, recalling from her studies that Septon Barth had been The Hand of the King of Jaehaerys Targaryen I and supposedly a Sorcerer. Many copies of this book were burned during the reign of Baelor I and even pieces of the tome were now extremely difficult to locate. She tilted her head and sighed heavily, she was bewildered as to why her Father had given these books to her but still she turned her attention to the remaining two tomes and scanned them with equal scrupulosity. She would expose the answer.
The third book, the narrowest, was entitled, The Death of Dragons, but she couldn't locate an author either on the spine of the book or printed on the opening pages as she flipped open the cover and flicked through the contents. She closed the book with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes after finding the book recorded the names of all the last Targaryen Dragons during the reign of King Aegon Dragonbane and in some cases, listed the cause of the beast's death. Cersei pursed her lips, it was commonly thought across Westeros and Essos that only something as omnipotent as Nature itself could kill the magical beasts, but this book and it's information proved otherwise.
"By the Gods..." She whispered.
Her jaw slackened somewhat and her eyes widened as she suddenly realised the value of the book she cradled between her hands now that the Targaryen girl was on the move across the Narrow Sea. It required long moments for her to suppress the speculations abruptly running amok amongst her thoughts and to finally survey the final tome on her desk. She ran a forefinger over the cover.
Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons, was written by Maester Thomax. Cersei leaned back in her high-backed chair and draped her hands over the armrests as she stared over the expanse of her chambers at the closed oak door. As far as she had been aware the only copy of this book had last thought to be located in the library of Castle Black. A frown tugged her brows downward, The Brothers of the Night's Watch valued and exploited their independence from the Realms of Men far too much to simply hand something this priceless over to even someone such as Tywin Lannister. Cersei scowled to herself, finally deciding that it wasn't as important to know where her Father had gotten the books as it was to figure out why he had given these rare tomes to her. She would solve the riddle of the former at a later time.
She rose up out of her chair and rapidly began to pace the length of the chamber, feeling the change in textures between the cold marble flooring and the plush furs as she passed over them, over and over, she walked from her desk to the door, in silent contemplation. Her hands came to rest on her hips as she paced.
Daenerys Targaryen would return to the shores of Westeros one day with her three Dragons and her army of Unsullied. The girl might possess the ability to bond with Dragons but Daenerys Targaryen did not understand the beasts, Cersei had learned from her 'Eyes' embedded inside the girl's inner-circle. A deeper knowledge of Dragons, their strengths and weaknesses, would provide an advantage when that day arrived and so she would immerse herself in study of the books until she could recite them word for word. But not before she had collected Stannis Baratheon's repulsive head and watched every Lord in her Kingdoms bend the knee at her Coronation, when she was finished sinking her fangs into their throats, Daenerys Targaryen would find herself staring at Seven utterly interlinked Armies. Each and every solider of whichever House they were sworn to ready and willing to 'greet' the long lost Targaryen Princess on behalf of The Lannister Queen they would never disobey again. She was very interested to see how three Dragons and their Mother would measure up against her Wits, especially now that she had access to knowledge that most Targaryen's had never laid eyes on, knowledge that would make the once daunting task of killing those Dragons substantially easier. As the days went on the future became more and more hers to dictate.
But why had her Father passed on this knowledge on to her?. He didn't trust her, he said so often enough, and the man certainly didn't feel paternal affection. So why was he assisting her?, in his own way, the threat to the family was ended and there no need for interference from the Head of her House. Why would he give her something so crucial to secure their continued safety and ascendency in the years to come?.
Cersei froze partway between her desk and the door. She cast her mind back to the day before in her Lord Hand's chambers when she had demanded that he bring Arya Stark to King's Landing, she had also asked him plainly if he finally accepted that she was his Legacy, not Jaime. He had not answered her and she had not expected differently. It was known that she would be the one to succeed her Father as the Head of House Lannister, she would take Casterly Rock and rule its branching Houses as their Queen and Liege-Lady, but her Father despised the notion and was determined to have Jaime released from his Oath as a Queensguard so he could inherit. A fate her twin didn't desire.
Giving her the books without demanding and receiving payment was an ineffective use of considerable assets, sacrilege to a Lannister, much less The Lannister. He wasn't bribing her to dismiss Jaime from his duty.
She clamped down on the thought that perhaps her Father had accepted her as his Heir, she would use the books as a means to further their Legacy by destroying House Targaryen but it was foolishness to think Tywin Lannister deemed her a worthy Successor. It was a fact of life, no one and nothing would meet her Father's approval.
She cursed in impotent frustration and approached her wide crimson padded chaise nearby the grand marble hearth that was taller than she, she elegantly parched herself on the edge of the chaise and stared into the empty fireplace, it wasn't Winter quite yet and therefore there was no need to stock the deep hearth with wood and kindling. She couldn't fathom why her Lord Hand had given the books to her and as the moments drew on, her disappointment that she was failing to solve his riddle turned to anger so deep set that she was soon trembling on the chaise.
Cersei gritted her teeth and glared into the hearth, rage flooded her veins with every beat of her heart. She hated that her Father could make her feel so inadequate with something so simple as giving her what some might see as a gift. She dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes, taking deep breathes, struggling to tame the flickering flames of hatred and suspicion, she needed to dissect the conundrum of the books to understand what enciphered warning her Father had sent her and she couldn't think clearly with a haze of rage clouding her vision.
She lifted her head up from her hands, her eyes glowed in her dim chambers like cat's-eyes as she searched for something to take out her rage upon. Her attention snagged on the seashell Sansa had gifted her with just days before, she had placed the orange and red shell on the edge of the mantelpiece above the towering hearth. The force of Cersei's hard glare was enough to cut through stone like a knife through butter but her eyes softened almost instantaneously when they settled on the Lion's Paw shell peaking cautiously over the edge of the marble shelf. The welcomed thought of Sansa, the memories of their time together, calmed her and gave her clarity enough to focus.
Standing up, she carefully retrieved the fragile shell from the mantelpiece and rearranged herself on the chaise. Cradling the shell in her lap, she smiled tenderly as she ran her forefinger over it's smoothly curved face. She wasn't overtly surprised when she detected a soft knock at the entrance to her rooms and the subtle click of the door being pushed open, but knowing that Sansa couldn't possibly have coaxed lively Myrcella into a bath and through the tedium of dressing for dinner, collected Tommen from his chambers and returned to her so swiftly, she expertly masked her smile behind an expression of pure contempt and looked up from the shell in her hand, ready to confront the meek servants, presumably coming into her room to light the numerous candelabra as the sun set, with her signature iciness.
Her constructed mask fell away into openness as she gazed at the partly open door and the dishevelled visitant, who, despite the uncomely darkly coloured rags hanging loosely on his tall body and his obvious fatigue, carried himself with the posture of a confident noble as he quietly stepped into her chambers and closed the door behind him.
It couldn't be, and yet it was, she would have smiled but shock held her entire body, including her facial muscles, utterly immobile. Even if she could, she feared that if she moved the unshaven man lingering across the chamber would prove to be nothing more than an illusion.
"Cersei..." Jaime whispered weakly.
She was elated to hear his voice after so many long months, to see him alive and safely returned to her. Cersei's lips parted to beckon her younger brother, by minutes, forward when her eyes settled on his muscular arm, held across his broad chest in a makeshift sling. A Lioness's furious roar resounded in her head and heart when she realised that his hand, her twin's prized sword hand, had been severed.
Her contentment vanished.
TBC. . .
AN: So I am thinking about a Sequel, actually the idea is pestering me just like the idea for 'Cersei's SheWolf' pestered me which is to say I'm already mentally drafting it. It will only be a short and completely AU follow-up to this story but it means that you don't have to worry about me abandoning this Fic, as if there was any chance of that anyway considering I only post a story if I plan on finishing it, and you can't write the second installation of a series if you don't finish the first part now can you?.
