The Lonely Lioness - Cersei Lannister Quest

It was just a bottle. Fine Myrish glass, carved with leaves and scenes of people drinking. The stopper was sealed with wax. All very normal. Except for the content. Now that she beheld it with her own eyes, Cersei finally understood why they called it Shade of the Evening. A deep, dark blue. Slightly warm, unlike the deep ocean. Just as the sky was on a summers eve, as the sun had already sunk beneath the horizon and you were watching it's afterglow seep from the sky before the stars showed themselves. It was beautiful.

But it also terrified her. Stories of strange warlocks performing profane rites was basically all that Cersei ever heard of Qarth, a city so far away that it was more myth than reality. The bottle on her desk was proof though that it was not just sailors telling tall tales. And to think that Baelish just had one. They were supposed to be rare and expensive. Ruinously so, especially when not bought from the warlocks own hands. Yet he had waved it off as just some oddity that he had picked up on the side as part of some private dealings.

The more she had learned about Baelish in the last few months, the less she knew what to think of him. Except for the certainty that he was untrustworthy. Something he even took some perverse pride in. It was certainty less grating on her nerves than Varys excessive servility. She was never quite certain if that was just genuinely how the bald eunuch behaved, or if it was all an act. And if it was an act, what purpose it served. Was this why Eddard Stark had trusted him? The viper baring it's fangs at you feeling less threatening than the one lurking out of sight in the grass? If she just had someone to trust and rely on.

Cersei shook her head. There was no point to letting herself slip into one of those moods again. With slightly shaky hands she twisted and pulled on the stopper and measured out a small cup of the blue liquid. She would drink it. Then she would sleep. Truly, really, genuinely sleep. Just one night and everythig would be better. The fog would be gone from her thoughts. The load lessened. The first sip of the fabled drink was as awful as she expected, tasting of burned hair and rotten flesh. The second was bizarre. It was Arbor Gold and roasted pork. Jaimes lips and fathers scorn. The taste of a summer day spent on a grassy hill, so long ago, and of the ashes of the Red Keep mingling with snow.

She crawled into her bed, her clothes still on, and slept.

---

The hallway was narrow and reeked of mildew. She had been her before. Dust covered every surface, the layer on the floor full of footprints. There was no candle needed. A dull blue glow shone on Cerseis path. The white woman was right there. Running. Turning. But this time she could not escape. Cersei could barely feel her feet even hitting the ground. It just seemed to fly past as she willed herself onward. The other woman still tried to escape, red eyes gazing back now and then, white robes and hair fluttering around her. Once more she made a sudden turn, though this time, when Cersei followed briefly after, there was a door. Eagerly Cersei threw herself against it, her quarry finally in reach.

Within she saw the woman kneeling in a circle of strange sigils and valyrian script. In her hands she held a cup and within a black ichor that reeked of blood and tears. Around the circle, a hundred, no, a thousand statues. All bore a cup of their own, offering it the white woman in prostration. They were grey and flaky, carved with no mastery, but as the white woman drank from her cup, they turned smooth as marble and white as bone. In the distance she could see white pillars rising from ground. Up and up and up into sharp points reaching to pierce the stars above. The woman locked eyes with Cersei and then there was only vertigo and the blurred lights.

When her sense came back to her, she was in a city, though she could not recognize it. Fire roared on every roof. Fire running through the streets. Black shadows chased after men and women, wrestling them to ground. Legs were snapping. Arms were breaking. In terror did they scream as the shadows dragged them to center of the city. There she saw the same, no, another woman. White as snow with baleful red eye, but clad in black armor of frozen flames and glass spun from blood, seated on a throne of bleeding wood. In one hand a blade, on her brow a crown and in the other a heart. A flame kindled in the empty pit where her second eye should have been as the shadows tore the skin from the people and offered them in tribute.

Cersei turned her eyes from the grisly scene, no longer able to stomach it, and as she did the dream faded.

---

The next day she woke well rested, despite the nightmare, and no further dreams troubled her the coming nights.

---

AN: New turn later today.

It was a fairly pleasant day. One of the last truly hot ones of the year most likely, what with Salting Season right around the corner. Three more months of decent weather for campaigning, then Rain Season would turn the Riverlands into one giant mud pit. Time was of the essence. Once the plan was set, Cersei wasted no time. Having her nights no longer spent drenchend in sweat and tossing hin her bed greatly helped to get her thoughts back into order.

A royal decree blaming the raiding on Gregor Clegane specifically, calling him maddened from drinking and milk of the poppy, had been drafted. Letters were prepared for all the lords of the Riverlands, Westerlands and the Lords Paramount besides. And a second one, from Cersei to her father, simply calling him to 'do what is best for the reputation of House Lannister'. That one she stamped with her own seal, but for all the others... There was the option to just use her own seal and authority as the regent. But it would have been much more legitimate with the royal seal on it, and Joffrey had not taken his from his hand since he had been officially crowned.

Which brought her, oddly enough, to a small training ground on the roofs of the Red Keep that was overlooking the sea. Her son, who had never really shown all that much interest in serious training, was whacking away at a wooden training doll with a common arming sword while dressed in boiled leather armor. The Hound was sitting nearby on the battlements, drinking wine from a skin and ocassionally calling out strikes for Joffrey to perform. It was a strange sight to say the least. She had somehow missed this. And only then did Cersei realise that it had been nearly half a year since it all had started. Eddard Stark as Hand. Then her as Regent. For the first time in his life, her beloved son was all alone and without her aid and protection.

"Mother," he called out when seeing her and for one terrifying heartbeat she was afraid. What if he resented his abandonement? But he did not. He smiled at her while sheating the blade. "You finally have a break from things?" The words were a dagger in her chest, even if he was excited.

"Not quite," she wearily replied. "There are some letters that should bear the Kings seal and not just that of the Regent." Cersei almost feld like Jon Arryn in that moment. Just another courtier, bothering the king about matters of state. They had spoken so little about anything else lately.

Joffrey's smile faltered and she could see his shoulders tense. It was unfair how they had to live. It was fine for him to rage about it. But the rage did not come. Her boy pushed his shoulders down and his face into a vaguely neutral mood and nodded as he took the papers from her. "It can't be helped. Things will be better again once my traiterous uncles and the dragonspawn is dealt with. Don't worry mother. I will take care of things."

Cersei looked on in stunned silence as Joffrey began to read the proclamation and letters. From the corner of her eyes she saw the Hound sit still as a statue while looking elsewhere.

"It says brigandry, pillaging and murder here," Joffrey read aloud from the proclamation before Cersei could spend more thought on adding another Clegane to it. "Didn't you say your brother was doing worse things?"

The Hound looked thoughtful and oddly contrite for a while, before he took a deep gulp from his wine skin. "Nobody believes those things. He made sure of that."

"The king believes them and that's what counts. Add kinslaying to the list at least, then I will seal the new order. A father, a sister and two wives." With that Joffrey handed her back the parchments. "I will lead a party to the Riverlands to see this enforced."

Cersei was about to protest, but the Hound beat her to it. "My brother will rip your fucking head off with his bare hands and wipe his ass with your face. He gives no shits about your crown."

That shook him visible and Cersei pressed on. "It would be safer for you to stay here in Kings Landing while someone else takes care of this."

Joffrey tensed again, his hand clenching around the sword hilt and drawing it a fraction from it's sheath. "A king needs to lead. If he doesn't fight himself, he at least needs to be present to bolster the troops morale." He seemed to truly care about this.

---

A few hours later, a still somewhat confused Cersei sat in her own little throne in the Small Council chambers as the others filtered in. Her son had changed right under her nose and she was not quite certain yet if she approved of it. But there were other matters to attend right now. Yet again. And the Small Council seemed to be in a poor mood. Yet again. This crisis could not be over soon enough. And once it was, she would have some peace and quiet. Maybe spend a season or two with Jaime in the Westerlands. There was this hill she sometimes dreamed off these days. Maybe the fields of liverwort were still growing on it like all those years ago.

In the here and now though, all she could see were tired men. Baelish was missing, already having departed to the Vale, while Lord Rykker was a new addition. He of all people seemed the most worried and started to talk before the others were even fully seated. "Your majesty, I have received a letter from Essos. One of the Targaryen pretenders." He passed the small parchment to Cersei for her to read.


As she looked up again, Varys cleared his throat. "All Crownlander houses, from the lordly downt to the landed knights, have received the same message. Some of them have come forth and reported this to either Lord Rykker or me, while others have not. I suspect the Pointsmen will follow this pretender and ships have been gathering on the Braavosi coast, though they are at least unaffiliated with the Sealord or the Iron Bank."

"How many men are we talking here?" Janos Slynt asked with a slight tremble in his voice.

The Eunuch shook his head in response. "It is hard to tell. At least two thousand heavy foot and two thousand heavy horse. Though depending on what other sellswords in Braavos follow his call, it might be up two five times that." Slynt wilted with every word spoken.

Tossing the letter aside, Cersei called to the door. "Send someone to the kitchens. Wine."

---

The North - The Wolf Marches
Having heard news of his fathers imprisonment Robb Stark, the heir to the treacherous Eddard Stark, called the banners and assembled a host to march towards Kings Landing. Supposedly an old Stark crown got produced from somewhere and many lords of the North were eager to crown the boy on the spot, saying that Thorren Stark bowed to dragons, not lions. The Stark heir refused though, saying he would not decide such things behind his fathers back and then moved south in hopes of reuniting with the traitor.

Westerlands - The Lion Marches
The banners of the Westerlands have met at the Golden Tooth and Lord Paramount Tywin Lannister has personally assumed command. There had been much speculation about the reason for this, even as it was clear that he would lead them into the Riverlands. The Old Lion was not known to share much information with anyone but his closest war council. With the proclamation from the Iron Throne however, it now seems clear that he wishes to put an end to his errand bannerman Clegane's raiding.

The Riverlands - Chaos and Death
The Riverlands are in turmoil as a host under command of Gregor Clegane is pushing through the southern Riverlands, leaving empty villages and disfigured corpses in his wake. At first the indentiy of the brigand was disputed, but a proclamation of the Iron Throne has removed all doubt that it is indeed the bannerman of House Lannister who is leading this effort. In his rampage, the dealt a major defeat to the hastily raised forces of the Riverlands under Brynden Tully and was said to have killed Lord Beric Dondarion who had been sent months ago to apprehend him. His forces are still harassed by smaller warbands, but for now nothing seems to be able to stop him.

The Reach - Preparations
While not confirmed by Lord Paramount Mace Tyrell, merchants and travellers report that the Reach is calling it's banners. Likewise, the Redwyne fleet had been seen on a maneuver near the mainlands coast. No word has been said about what their intent is, but it is clear that the Reach does not intend to stay neutral in the coming war.

Stormlands - A Festival In Uncertain Times
In an odd move for many, Renly Baratheon has announced that he will host a tourney and feast in the western Stormlands, not far from the ruins of Summer Hall. Not everyone is happy with this as civil war looms over the Seven Kingdoms, but the claimant dismissed such concern preemptively in his proclamation, stating that it was important to remember what they were fighting for and that he wished to give time for those standing against his rightful claim to step down from their ambitions.

Pentos - The Golden Company
After campaigning on Norvosi orders against the bandits and pirates around Dagger Lake, the Golden Company has been sighted in civilized areas once more. Marching west towards Pentos for a new contract there. Reportedly a local trade magnate has hired them as honour guard for a lavish celebration of some sort, likely in an effort to impress his peers with the mind-boggling waste of money.

The Three Daughters - Blood Flows On And On
The Disputed Lands have been fought over for so long that even their old names have been washed away by tides of blood. Volantis, Lys, Myr and Tyrosh have been locked into a struggle lasting centuries. In the last few months, Lys has once more been put on the back foot. A series of wildly successful raids and the pillaging of old plantations has left the troops of the Fair Daughter in disarray. It is only a matter of time now until the realignment begins and the other three competitors turn on each other to prevent each other from exploiting this weakness, likely giving Lys a chance to mend the damage done and regain it's strength. The wheel turns eternal, grinding men to dust.

The Three Daughters - Two Kings of the Stepstones
As war looms in west and east, the Stepstones have once more become the playing ground of the boldest pirates. After brief skirmishes, two contenders for control of the vital shipping lanes of the region have emerged. One is Helaena Wildfyre, claimant to the Iron Throne, who has crowned herself in Grey Gallows and now holds court like an Ironborn reaver. The other is Grazdan the Andal Slayer, a slave raider and pirate backed by the Ghiscari Masters, who has taken the Blackfyre ruins on Bloodstone as his base.

Volantis - The Raging Doom
Ever since the Doom came to Valyria, the shine of fires and the chocking clouds of poisonous air have become a fixture of the region, even beyond the Smoking Sea itself. Sailors have been watching closely as activity of the region waxed and waned over the years and ever since the Red Comet has come it has gotten much more active. Clouds of ash and poison are wafting deep into otherwise safe shipping lanes and the fires burn so high that on clear nights, the glow can be seen behind the horizon all the way to Volantis. An ill omen indeed that has the Old Blood and the priests of R'hllor equally worried.

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