Well, I've been busy with school for the last few days and now that I'm caught up, things have certainly gotten interesting. Time to spit in the eyes of god and kill the chosen one, I suppose.
[X] Plan: Playing For Time
-[X] Call for hedge knights and sellswords to generate further troops. Promise wealth and lands of traitors.
-[X] Learn more about Shade of the Evening and what the dreams it brings might mean.
-[X] Drink some Shade. Maybe it will let you rest again. (Free Action)
-[X] Letter: Write to Dragonstone, recently occupied by one 'Aukar Brightfyre,' apparently in league with Cearn Targaryen. But there can only be one King of Westeros - perhaps there's an opportunity to be exploited? Sound out what exactly the foreign invader is after; whether he's intent on claiming the Iron Throne or assisting another in doing so, or if the man is open to cutting a deal with the Baratheon-Lannister regime. Also inquire as to the dates of Shireen and Seylse Baratheon, and if he would be willing to accept a ransom for King Joffrey's bereaved relatives.
-[X] Letter: Write to Yronwood. House Martell is beginning to openly court rebellion, but not every Dornish House might be so enthusiastic for another northern excursion for Martell royalist delusions. And even if the Yronwoods are not open to an arrangement, publicly courting them will still place pressure on Sunspear and remind them of the potential costs of intervening in the current succession conflict.
-[X] Letter: Write to Braavos, inquiring as to the nature of the Free City's recent militarization. You will have hopefully bought some goodwill with your prompt response to the Iron Bank; see if the bankers can be convinced to get your envoys an in with the Sealord and more than platitudes for their time. Assuming they aren't blown off and the Braavosi aims are not hostile to that of the Iron Throne's, broach the idea of cooperating against targets of mutual hostility.
-[X] Letter: Send an Envoy to Myr; as one of the only Free Cities not to host some manner of Mummer's Dragon and with its holdings in the Disputed Lands under threat by one of the more threatening examples, the City of Glass may be open to cooperation with the Iron Throne. Promise the Conclave of Magisters various trade concessions and the possibility of more direct assistance in the future should they strike against 'Visenya Redfyre.'
-[X] Letter: Write to Pyke; inquiring to Lord-Paramount Balon Greyjoy as to whether he'd allow his captains to accept letters of mark against foes of the Iron Throne, given that there are many in the Narrow Sea at the moment. It will also serve as an opportunity to test the allegiance of the thus-far mercurial ironborn.
Turn 3 - The Blue Hill
The cornflowers were in full bloom and covering the whole hill. When the gentle summer breeze brushed over them, it looked like a gentle ocean all around her. She could have lain there forever. Just watching the clouds drift lazily in the sky. Enjoying the sun and the breeze on her skin. Lannisport looked so far away from this hilltop. Just far away blotches of red shingled roofs and whifts of white smoke from cooking fires. The Rock rose behind it, though from here, it looked just like a particular large boulder and not the imposing mountain she peered down from.
It was a good day. Perhaps the best in a long time. For once her brother had time for her and he made up for all the distance and neglect she had suffered from. She had rested her head in his lap for hours without a single complaint from him. She had even been able to wheedle him into waving some of the flowers into her hair. She was sure it would look stunning, even though her beloved idiot kept complaining about a knights hands being ill suited to weave flowers like a fainting maiden. But it was still nice and he had made no motion to stop.
As if from nowhere, a slice of peach was dangled above her face, just out of reach. She opened her mouth expectantly and when nothing happened, she rose to catch it herself. Of course, he brother pulled it away. She started to giggle as if she was a young girl again as they played around a bit. The wait made the fruit all the sweeter when she finally was faster than him. Deep down, she wished for a little bit more. Something a bit different. But for now, she was happy with what she had. Just a lazy day. A moment to relax and forget. To enjoy life.
The winds were getting cooler and reflexively, Cersei brought the bottle to her lips. But there was nothing left. Not even a few little dregs that she could suck out of it. Her whole body tensed. She knew what was to come. But she did not know if she could weather it once more.
Jaimes hand was on her stomach and he drew her closer. The wind was getting ever colder and the sun disappeared behind the spreading clouds. Both her hands were now on his and she clutched it tight. "Jaime." She whispered while raising her eyes, water welling up in them. The breeze was no longer gentle and it carried away the petals of the cornflowers. On and on. All the way to the sea. "I'm sorry Jaime." She whispered as her hands pried his fingers apart to slip her hand into his. In the distance, she could sea the sails. Black and grey, with yellow krakens on the largest.
The hand she clasped so tightly was getting colder. His grip softer. Tears were tumbling down her cheeks. "Please. Please stay with me." She pleaded as the smell of brine and burning wood reached her nose. His hand was cold in hers and waxen. She did not dare to look down on it, even though her eyes were drawn downward as if it was the only thing she could do. Behind her, her brother moved. He leaned in to whisper into her ear, but only a gush of blood left his mouth. Cold and dark, reeking of rot. "I'm sorry Jaime." She whispered once more while forcing her eyes shut. No. She could not see it again.
When her eyes opened again, Cersei stared into a fireplace of red sandstone, filled with cold ash. The divan she half lay on had long stopped being comfortable. The pillows and covers were sticky with sweat and reeked the part. She no longer wore the light red dress of her dream, but black silk in equally squalid condition. It was all just a dream. All but the tears. Those were real and her eyes still stinging from them. She clutched the empty bottle of Shade to her chest. It would be the last dream. Even with the book still laying open next to her, it had taken so long to even find this vision and she would not have the strength to find it once more.
Next to the book still lay the letter. Parchment stained with with precious blue. Ink blotted from tears.
To her Majesty the Queen Regent Cersei Baratheon-Lannister.
We have been attacked during our war council. We were using the study of Lord Mooton for safety reasons, but someone or something came in anyway. The king is fine, but we took losses. Your brother died pushing him out of the study. Oakheart fell right after as we fled the keep. Mooton himself got wounded and a few of us took some scratches. The king too, but the maester took all precautions and is certain he wont even get a scar. Blount, the coward, ran off and hasn't been seen since.
Your fathers men acused Edmure Tully of betraying us and turned on his riders. There were some losses on both sides. One Frey page and one of the Brackens are the only notable dead we are aware of. Edmure himself got away and I believe he is following the road to Duskendale. He wanted to use his status as Hand to take command from Rykker and then attack the Targaryen host.
We are currently still in Maidenpool and trying to figure out what happened. The king wants to move, but he is still shaken from the attack and doesn't know where to. Maybe he will listen to a message from you. I'll keep him alive until then.
Obediently,
Sandor Clegane, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard
It seemed to taunt her. Laying there. Ready to torment here once more. She had nearly burned it, but what was the point? It would not change the contents. It would not change that Jaime, her beloved brother, was dead. And now she no longer had the Shade to dull the pain. Her feelings were a churning mess. Her chest ready to burst. But there was one thing rising to the top as the last effects of the Shade began to wane and unyielding hard edges of reality intruded once more onto her. What won out in the end was...
[] Wrath
[] Despair
[] Denial
AN: Cerseis mental state was deteriorating pretty much since the beginning, so there was no real chance for this to not push her over the edge.
Jesus Almighty Lord, this war hasn't gotten off to a great start. We haven't even had a single battle and already we're on the verge of falling apart. We've gotta link up with Rykker and Edmure, hit the Targ host before things go even further wrong.
… What the fuck are we going to do about Tywin? A screw-up of this magnitude demands vengeance, and he was already playing merry havoc with our patience.
Jesus Almighty Lord, this war hasn't gotten off to a great start. We haven't even had a single battle and already we're on the verge of falling apart. We've gotta link up with Rykker and Edmure, hit the Targ host before things go even further wrong.
I am assuming we rolled multiple nat 1s, with the enemy rolling high and Stannis of course with mutliple Nat 100s, since hes now an avatar of a God straight up.
Edit: idk how close we are to losing, but were in a pretty bad spiral, and we don't have enough support or control over even our own forces, so were going in blind.
Hm, it is an interesting experience, these conflicting feelings. The point of this quest is to try to steer Cersei to victory. At the same time, one would actually like to see Stannis win.
On one hand, it is frustrating to see this development as a player. On the other hand, one would not truly mind seeing everything crash around Cersei's head here. Let it not be said that Cersei failed to earn all this misery.
Well, fuck, shit really escalated. I really thought Jaime would have plot armor. I guess that's on me for forgetting this is Westeros. I'm curious about the yellow kraken sails Cersei saw in her dreams. Is that supposed to imply that Euron was behind the king's attempted assassination?
[X] Wrath
Wrath is the clear productive choice, though part of me does wonder what Denial would have resulted in. I guess, Cersei would just go crazy and pretend that her brother wasn't really dead? Maybe she would have gotten even more obsessed with magic and tried doing necromancy?
