Chapter 18

Casterly Rock had a Godwood along with an attending weirwood tree which I visited during my explorations of my ancient home.

While the Northerners found them calming and perhaps meditative, I found it creepy as all hell with its human face carved upon the trunk and the twisted and gnarled roots of the tree which had grown to consume the entirety of the cavern in which it laid.

Yet even I could not deny there was a haunting beauty to it, much as it spooked me so, of its determination to live and resilience to defy the odds. That even with the face scarred and cracked, in the darkness of the cavern it persisted.

How in the heck did it grow with no access to sunlight? I had no clue.

Magic? Or perhaps its roots had tapped into some kind of water source.

In the end, I gawked at it, explored it, and eventually left, satisfied that there were no goodies hidden amongst its branches and roots.

Now, once again, I find myself about to step into another Godswood. One open to the warmth of the sun which filled my every breath and with the cool wintry breeze rustling through its leaves and branches.

It should have been, by all accounts, a welcoming sight. A respite of nature in this cesspit of a city.

And yet…

Yet…

I would welcome walking into the Godswood of Casterly Rock over entering the Godswood of the Red Keep a thousand times over.

Something about this nondescript grove set my hair to stand and hackles to rise..

It was nothing detectable per se…

Just a feeling of unease.

Was it because I was a Southern Andal? One who didn't follow the Old Gods? However, in this case, I did not follow the Seven either. ROB was the only god I sing my praises to after all.

Regardless, I peered along the copse's edge, trying to locate a source for my unease but again, nothing made itself known to my awareness.

The Godswood of the Red Keep was open to any and all visitors, yet the very thought of entering made me feel like I was trespassing. Both Ned and Sansa would find great comfort in this grove, yet I found none of that.

"Why are we here, m'lady?" Lanna inquired with a questioning tone.

I gave my best effort at a dismissive shrug. "Just thought we would take a look."

Then I march forward.

The truth to the subject was one I was unsure if I should even broach with Jaime and Lanna. Explaining to them the origins of my abilities with my dreams was one thing, but future knowledge was a wholly different matter.

I felt guilty about hiding this from them, but it was dangerous knowledge.

Yet at the same time, it was likely becoming obsolete as each day passed and its accuracy degraded as the ripples I supposedly caused cascaded through time.

Truly, was there any reason for me not to tell them?

Lanna would be curious but I had little for her.

In the grand scheme of things, she might as well have never existed. Likely just another nameless servant in Casterly Rock before the being that brought both me and bending into this foreign world intertwined her story with mine.

Jaime though…

Hey brother of mine, we'll commit incest together, cuckolding the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and present our spawn as his rightful heirs.

Yeah.

That.

A bit awkward and not a conversation I had any interest in indulging.

Would informing Jaime of his future work to help avoid his future mishaps?

Mulling the question over, I couldn't help but conclude the answer was likely no.

The single greatest change was me. Whatever relationship the two had was toxic, creating a festering feedback loop between the two of them.

Jaime was a good kid right now, and I don't exactly foresee that changing unless something drastic happens.

Arrogance and pride were the hallmarks of Jaime Lannister, his ego buoyed aloft by his skill of arms, his powerful house, and the love of his sister.

The changes I have wrought upon him have most likely already turned him aside from the path he was meant to walk.

However, I would have to be ever-mindful since a person changes greatly in their early teenage years as the transition between childhood and adulthood is a time rich with new experiences, both good and ill. Experiences which both could scar a man irrevocably or inspire them to be the greatest of men.

For now, it was safer to just observe. Confidence is good and dandy, but if that arrogance creeps in, I'll have to be the one to box Jaime's ears, as is my right as the eldest sibling.

Only I can bully my little brother of course!

I took my first steps into the Godswood of the Red Keep, its thickets thick and overflowing, I brushed apart bushes and branches and stepped into another world.

It only added to the sheer scale of the capital castle of the Seven Kingdoms or perhaps George's worldbuilding to be exact. An entire acre of forest bounded within its sprawling walls.

How wide must the castle walls of Winterfell be for their inbuilt Godswood, vaguely recalling that theirs was even larger?

A sight I would most surely like to see one day and perhaps soak in their hot springs.

As we trudged deeper into these sacred woods, it took less than a minute for us to lose sight of the rest of the castle,

My view consists only of the forest around us. So thick and dense, it obscured our view of the greater area.

"Cersei," my brother asked, questioning in tone. "What are you looking for?"

"The heart tree," I answer.

I knew the two of them had more questions for me, both easily seeing through me considering how well we knew each other.

I was a bit rattled.

I knew it.

They knew it.

We all knew it.

Thankfully, they trusted me enough not to push on the matter, that I would explain when the time came.

Which I would, I decided. I could always be a bit sparser with any details. And I already dreamt of the past, so why not the future?

Just not here, not while we were not in the safety of Casterly Rock. Not until I had miles of rock around me, cocooning me in its protective embrace.

With Bloodraven likely working against me and Aerys potentially under his sway… Well, that was quite a dangerous foe for me to be pitted against.

Why was I even here in the Godswood?

Frankly, I wasn't sure.

But hopefully, I would have an answer when I finally found the tree.

In the end, we found it.

I think.

My expectations were dashed as instead of finding a tree with a white bone-white trunk crowned atop with blood-red leaves and a face leaking sap, we instead found an immense tree of oak with its trunk thicker than I was tall.

It was several hints that told me this was likely what I was seeking.

For one, it was the largest thing in here.

Second, it was in a small semi-open clearing, the nearby brush swept away and nearby trees dozens of feet away.

Oh, and finally, all the fucking ravens perched upon its sprawling branches, their usual cacophony gone as they were as utterly silent as the night and peering down on us with their beady eyes.

As I stood before the great oak, no answer came to me, no sudden realization or understanding of the path I was meant to take.

Hmmm.

It was a common enough theory that Jaime slept upon the stump of a weirwood and had a weirwood dream, didn't he?

Should I take a nap?

Try and have a chat with Bloodraven maybe?

Yet the thought of doing so was sour to me, and not to mention how disastrous our first meeting went.

No. It was not the way.

Bloodraven. Bryden Rivers.

He was a man who enjoyed control. How many eyes does Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes, and one. He was a spymaster of infamy that struck fear into the hearts of many.

Control.

Even if we could come to some sort of truce, Bryden Rivers had demonstrated by his past history that he would not adhere to it.

Words are wind, after all, a lesson learned too late by Aenys Blackfyre before Brynden Rivers had his head lopped off.

No, Bloodraven couldn't be trusted, not by me and not with the future. He would always be a dagger in my back and I a pawn on his board, to be sacrificed when the time came and when I was no longer needed.

One could argue back and forth about his deeds, how the ends justify the means, and how everything he did was for the greater good, but that didn't help my situation where I would be the one dealing with him.

A calm crystallization filled me.

Bloodraven would be a foe. I would have preferred, if not working together, then not getting into each other's ways as we both pursued our plans for victory against the Long Night.

I couldn't help but muse at that. What plan did I currently have?

Well, I was taking heed of King Vendrick's wise words.

Seek strength, the rest will follow.

Perhaps I am a brute after all, but this is a world where brutes tend to flourish so I was right at home.

After all, I'll have the biggest sword on the block.

It was that and hopefully start a bending school for backup but that was a plan that was quite some time away from implementation.

But for now...

Fire was too obvious.

Earth it shall be then.

I wriggled out of my slippers and stepped onto the cold dirt.

One thing the original Avatar depicted was that most of the world just seemed to be brown featureless earth. No foliage, or anything. In reality, there's also a ton of dirt.

Being housed within Casterly Rock gave me no exposure to dirt so I was far from experienced at manipulating it.

Yet dirt was still earth to my senses oddly enough. Perhaps it was the abundance of tiny and fragmentary earth within its contents but trying to science down what was basically magic was a foolhardy task.

Sorry tree. I apologized for what I was about to do. I always found it a saddening thing to see old trees go, centuries they could have seen and lived only to get cut down for a parking lot.

I was about to commit tree murder for a reason I was not even confident about, all in some vain hope of stymying Bloodraven and his connection to Aerys. Was it even a conduit for the connection?

Doesn't matter. My choice was made.

I told myself I had to be ready to end the lives of others for my goals here, yet how could I muster the will to do such if I could not even murder a tree? Would this be the start of my serial killer documentaries? Instead of small creatures, would I start with trees?

Slightly lifting my foot, I slammed it back down and the earth bent to my will, condensing and hardening. The deep roots of the mighty oak were shorn and torn. The tree buckled for a second, slipping inches deeper into the earth as the air pockets collapsed. The leaves shook and the once-silent ravens crowed in panic and flocked to the safety of the sky.

"Cersei?" Lanna asked, alarmed at my sudden action.

"Later." I deny, my focus on the earth.

Below the oak was now a solid slab of hardened earth, dense and impenetrable roots.

Was this enough? I repeated the action, severing the lateral roots.

I had to be careful to keep my actions hidden so there was only a small layer of topsoil for the now hopefully dying oak.

It looked mostly unchanged, only sinking inches but the Godswood was likely rarely frequented here in the south. Hopefully, none would notice. I took one last look at it, trying to remember the details, before turning around and walking back in the direction we arrived in.

Lanna and Jaime followed, their expressions nervous and anxious to speak their minds.

Under the crowing of the birds above us and the creaking of the oak, we departed.

Maegor's Holdfast.

The final redoubt for the royal family. If the Red Keep was to ever be breached, this boxy fortress was to be the last line of defence.

Though to me, I couldn't help but wonder what the point of it was. If the capital had fallen, including the Red Keep, then the aggressors were already well past battering down the gates of the kingdom.

It was also, annoyingly, without any obvious hidden entryways I could detect. The only direct entrance into it was through the drawbridge was was protected by a Knight of the Kingsguard day and night, alongside a contingent of guards.

Which meant Aerys was out of reach.

I had thought that since Bloodraven was seeking a new pawn, it may have been prudent for me to remove the piece from the board entirely.

Murder.

Yet with the budding relief in my chest, I knew deep down that I might not have been truly capable of going through with such an act just yet.

So what were my options now that smothering Aerys with a pillow was no longer an option?

Nothing. Bloodraven was taking his turn now and I was purely on the defensive.

So I resumed what I was doing before.

Exploring and sounding out my options.

Tunnels, tunnels, tunnels!

I found the likely passage that Arya would utilize in her desperate flight from the Red Keep or at least what I think was the tunnel. It was clearly a sewer and when the stench hit us, I turned us back around.

Mama Jo was the absolute height of displeasure when we returned reeking of shit and piss, before immediately having us rinsed and scrubbed down, and our old clothes burned.

It wasn't even the last exit tunnel we've discovered. Some led down to the rivers, others out the castle, and some into the rocky cliffside of which the Red Keep was built upon. The latest might have been the path Ned Stark would tread with Petyr Baelish once upon a time.

So, I guess if needs must, quick exit obtained?

Hopefully, it would not be needed but I made sure Jaime and Lanna had it memorized and it was good timing because days later, the bells of Kings Landing tolled seven times.

Aerys Targaryen had awoken.

When I got the news, I was ready to spring into action. Though whatever that be would be purely reactive.

One scenario I had envisioned was maybe gold cloaks and houseguards in Targaryen livery storming the Tower of the Hand under Bloodraven's order through Aerys, culminating in a battle that would see me exposing my abilities to cut a swathe through our foes before escaping through the tunnels I had painstakingly mapped out days before.

Another was perhaps a dagger in the night. Our room had no hidden passageway so when we slept, I propped up a brick behind our inward sweeping door, preventing it from opening it all the way.

Another was a summon for the family to the throneroom before we were all arrested for treason.

I also took care to watch what I ate in the case of poison.

Yet as the days passed and I spent my time in silent readiness for the sudden outbreak of violence, absolutely nothing of note happened.

I was feeling pulled taut and the wait was unbearable.

Something it finally snapped, in a most unexpected direction.

"Unwell?" I repeat blankly, trying to wrap my head around the word which could imply so very many things.

Jaime and Lanna had been rather worried about me and when my tensions seemed to ratchet up several degrees when the King recovered, well they put enough pieces together.

So Jaime did the smart thing that I missed.

He went and fucking asked people what's going on with the King.

Those people being of the Kingsguards, yuh know. One of whom is always guarding the King's chambers.

Oh, and Rhaegar too.

The man's son.

"Unwell," Jaime parroted my word back at me, confirming he did not misspeak. "His Grace is suffering from crippling aches of the head, and he seems to be confused quite frequently. Among other ills as well."

"Oh," I sat down on my bed.

People who undergo traumatic brain injuries often have to deal with other symptoms. And the care of such wounds in these times probably exacerbated injuries as well.

Why did I imagine him rising from his sickbed to lead a frontal charge into the Hand's tower, sheening sword in hand and cloak flapping in the wind?

Cause I'm stupid.

That's why.

Jaime nodded. "Rhaegar says the Grand Maester has been attending to him with milk of the poppy to soothe his ills."

I blinked at his words.

Is Aerys too busy being high as a fucking kite to kill me?

I guess I'll take my victories where I can.