284 AC The North Cersei Lannister VIII
"Gah!" Cersei exclaimed as she swatted at a ridiculously sized insect that buzzed and tried to land on her "I'm sick of this, these bloody insects, the smell…." she wailed plaintively.
"If it is any consolation my Lady, I'm getting eaten alive also" grinned Ned Stark from his horse beside her. She had been forced to abandon the wheelhouse and for it to be partially disassembled as the Kingsroad was in particularly bad repair along the causeway that cut through the swamps of the Neck.
She rode a horse alongside Ned Stark as they trotted along, to either side of the causeway, which was in parts only as wide as the Kingsroad, in others two to three times wider that it, loomed the swamps that the Neck was infamous for. Clouds of thick fog wafted about, cutting down visibility to less than five hundred paces and what little breeze there was often brought the stench of the swamp rolling over them. And then there were the insects, great clouds of them, some normal sized, others veritable giants, and all of them seemed to like to sting or draw blood. It was uncomfortably hot sometimes during the day, close and airless and at night the temperature seemed to plummet. The nights were even worse than the days, all night long the animal denizens of the swamp cawed, roared, squawked, bellowed and screamed at each other. From dusk till dawn there was a constant chorus, loud enough to seemingly keep her awake all night long.
She was irritable and snappy, and it was not helped by Ned Stark being so close to her, her husband to be had rarely left her side since she had to abandon the wheelhouse. Father thought it a sign of his obvious care and attention for her; she merely assumed that it was the Stark becoming more possessive as they drew nearer to their destination. Their destination, Winterfell, where she would be married to Lord Stark, a beast who had as much admitted that he would take her by force, whether she wanted to be taken or not. Who would, the moment they were married, treat her as little better than is property, his own bed slave… she shuddered at the thought, partly with anger, partly with revulsion and, if she was honest with herself, more than a little lust. The Stark was strong, tall, a Lord, a man who tool what he wanted with strength, force, a part of her thrilled at that, to be taken like that, without her being able to do nothing. To be thrown down, her clothes torn from her back, to be held by the Stark's beast like strength while he ravished her, heedless of her struggles, her screams and denials.
"No Lord Stark, it is not consolation!" she snapped back, shaking her head to clear the increasingly heated images flowing across her mind's eye. And of course he said nothing and just kept wearing that insufferable grin of his, seeming to not have a care in the world. She stretched in the saddle, trying to work out some knots in her back; unfortunately she rubbed herself against the saddle in a way that sent shudders of pleasure through her. That was another thing that was making her crabby, those infuriating dreams she had been having about Ned Stark, well they seemed to be invading her waking moments also, pushing aside her ability to concentrate, to think straight. Every day she spent all hot and bothered, her womanhood permanently moist and achingly sensitive, her nipples in a constant state of arousal. What she longed for was a bath, to scald herself in a piping hot bath and scrub away the grime and sweat of this horrid place and to get some relief from her aching desires. She could not even relieve the pressure on her with her own hands and fingers, the causeway was so narrow that they were packed in on top of each other every night, she feared her, exclamations would be overheard.
"This is one of the reasons why the North has never been successfully invaded my dear" piped up her father from just behind them "the Neck is a natural chokepoint, imagine trying to force an army up this road, along with its supplies…"
"The other reason is who would want it in the first place!" retorted Cersei, her anger getting the better of her.
"A few have tried lady Cersei" replied Ned Stark in a low voice "But never forget, there are no Andals in Andalos because of an ancestor of mine…."
"The Neck can be bypassed though; landings on the Saltspear to the west or around White Harbour to the east are other ingress points into the North for an invading force.
Cersei wondered what her father was playing at, insulting Lord Stark like that, maybe he was trying to remind the northern Lord that even if he thought himself impregnable behind the North's natural defences that he was in fact not?
She shook her head, she would never understand her father sometimes, was he getting into, what had Jamie once called it? Oh yes, a 'pissing match' with Lord Stark?
She put the ongoing conversation out of her mind and concentrated on thinking about Jamie, stoking her anger, her hatred at the thoughts of Jamie and that slut Janna being together. She raged, thinking of them in Casterly rock, enjoying its comforts, enjoying each other's bodies, while she was stuck on an endless march northwards to her fate on the edge of nowhere. Jamie and Janna would life their life in comfort, while that bitch would get all of Jamie's seed and would bear his children! The children that she had so wanted to bear, the prefect blonde children that they would have had together! She wagered that Janna would not even give birth to any Lannister blondes! ¡Ja! How would father dearest like that then eh? A litter of Lannister pups and nary one with a blonde mane? Could they even be called Lannister's then? Maybe she would have blonde children with the Stark? Oh, and would that not be such a pickle, her bearing golden Lannister babies in the wilds of the north and Janna dropping brunette after brunette in Casterly Rock! Ah but what a grand jape that would be!
She risked a sideways glance at Ned Stark, he was in conversation with some scout that had rode into the main group from up ahead, he was not unhandsome she had to admit, he was a Lord Paramount, and what better way to get revenge on Jamie for abandoning her than to make sure that in every raven she sent, every letter she wrote, that she only spoke of how happy she was in the North, of how happy Lord Stark made her feel? Even it was a tissue of lies? Yes she swore to herself, even if it was all lies and mistruths. She had not forgotten her pledge to herself, her heart had only ever been Jamie's, when he had refused to run off to Essos or anywhere but Westeros he had betrayed her most precious gift that she had to give him. Jamie probably thought that it had been her maidenhead and her body that had been her greatest gift to him, but he, like all men, was wrong, it was a woman's heart that was her greatest gift. And Jamie had proven unworthy, and if her perfect golden twin was unworthy of her heart, what chance had a northern savage? None at all she swore to herself, none at all.