She had not really wanted to do this, after all she was an Andal and a follower of the Seven who are One, but her father had commanded her to do it, so after a suitable strop she had complied. The sooner she was married to Lord Stark now the better, if only to remove her from the direct control of her meddling and annoying father!
At Atranta, the sprawling if somewhat dilapidated keep of House Vance of Atranta her betrothed had learned of a secret Weirwood grove not more than a few days ride north of the castle, and only a few hours ride off the Kingsroad.
The old blind head of the Household, though of legendary Andal stock had told the tale of the hidden Weirwood, a place that only devotees of the Old Gods could find, hence why the Andal's had never burnt it down during the conquest or the millennia since.
This had piqued the interest of her husband to be, just as he had piqued the interest of several of the serving wenches at the feast that night, I mean the looks of open, wanton lust that they were directing at Lord Stark were disgusting to behold. Though her betrothed did look quite handsome in his Stark leathers and he had let his hair grow out from the shorter style that he had sported in Kings Landing.
She had glared daggers at the wenches, but seeming to no avail, and she suspected that one or all three would conspire to try and gain entrance to Lord Eddard's bed chambers later that evening.
The cheek of those slatterns, they were utterly brazen in their attempts to catch Lord Eddard's eye and to engage him in conversation as they served him. And where was Lord Vance in all this? The old man was blind and could not see, and the rest of his family seemed to be equally blind, though in a figurative sense as opposed to a literal sense, to what was going on. She fumed, making sure that she placed a hand on Lord Eddard's arm anytime one of the wenches approached, and leant closer to him than was really necessary to listen to what he was saying. Though staying close to Lord Stark did have a rather distracting effect on her for some strange reason, tingles and shivers running up and down her body, that seemed to concentrate their effects on her nipples and between her legs, where a growing moisture was becoming distracting.
Later on, before she went to bed, she had called the captain of the Red Cloaks and asked that they mount extra patrols around Lord Stark's chambers, as she 'did not feel he was safe'. In fairness the Red Cloak Captain had hid his mirth just well enough to prevent her from admonishing him.
So this was how she found herself, riding along with Lord Stark and a handful of Northern men and some Red Cloaks, along a forested trail, searching for this fabled 'weirwood', which in all likelihood did not exist she snorted. Cajoled by her father to tag along as it would be 'good' he had said, good for her to spend some more time with her husband to be, and good to show an interest in his so called religion, a bunch of heathen superstitions more like it!
"Something amused you my Lady?" asked Lord Stark from beside her.
"Nothing my Lord, just thinking about something, that is all" she responded, she had finally decided to wear the leathers Lord Stark had gifted her, but she wore a crimson Lannister cloak, not the Stark cloak, it was back in her tent, doing duty as a covering for her cot bed.
"A penny for them?" Grinned Lord Stark.
"A what?" she retorted.
"A penny for your thoughts, it's an old saying up North."
"A penny you say, is that all my thoughts are worth Lord Stark?" she asked, arching any eyebrow "I had heard that northmen were legendary skinflints and now I can see this is true, I mean a penny for the thoughts of the daughter of LordTywin Lannister?"
"Oh! Ha! Hahahaha, very good my Lady, how very droll of you…." laughed Lord Stark in return.
They trotted on for a bit more when Lord Stark said "I noticed that there was quite a heavy Red Cloak presence in and around my chambers in Atranta for the two days that we stayed. I wonder why…" he trailed off, scratching his chin, a grin threatening to break out on his rugged face.
She fumed, he knew, he must have knew about the wenches all along, just it had seemed to her that he had been oblivious to their blandishments and charms at the feast. That must be it; he must have had his way with them at some stage during the day as opposed to the night, the pig!
But before she could explode in anger and berate the northern Lord for his lusts and degeneracy several swift 'swish' sound rent the air, along with sudden screams of agony, Lord Stark jumped from his horse to grab at her and wrench her from her saddle, the two of them falling off her horse and ending with her on top of the northern Lord as they hit the ground, the air rushing out of her at the impact. Lord Stark pushed her off him and hissed "stay down", her entire body suddenly drenched in what felt like freezing water as terror gripped he, beside her lay a Red Cloak with an arrow through his neck, gurgling and spasming as his life blood leaked out of him onto the dirt of the track.
She whirled around, crouching on her hands and knees, the remaining men, one Red Cloak and one Stark bannerman were fighting with Lord Stark against a bunch of cutthroats and bandits. Cersei went rigid with fear, never had she felt such terror in all her life, never had she felt like curling into a ball and whimpering like a child. Not since the death of her mother had she felt her mortality reach out and remind her of the frailty of existence.
The Red Cloak fell to an attack of three of the bandits, then the Northern Bannerman also fell, his head severed by an axe swipe. But all was not going the bandits way, Lords Stark was a whirlwind of swords strikes along with punches and counters with his shield, he was not wearing any armour beyond a leather gambeson sewn with iron plates and Lord Stark was moving among the bandits like an avatar of the Warrior himself, every blow he landed was a killing strike, every punch with his shield shattered and broke bone.
"Ahhhh" screamed Cersie in terror as she was grabbed from behind and pulled upright, a man grabbing her hair in one hand and her left arm in another until she was on her feet.
The shocking cold of a sharp blade was pressed against her neck "Sussh sweetling, there's a good thing, no trouble now or I will have to give you a nice new red raw smile to go with that lovely mouth of yours…"