Another Call to Arms

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 LANNISTER, CERSEI, Canon - Lena Headey - Cersei Lannister
 direct link • Aug 31 2017, 10:29 pm
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She was born a Lannister.

Tywin Lannister's only daughter, born to his beloved wife, Joanna - and only one half of a whole. Jaime had been with her always, and was meant to be with her, aways. They were the future of Casterly Rock, destined to hoist the family name above their heads. But they would do it together. They'd come into this world together, after all - they would need each other to survive it, too.

If only survival didn't mean so much pain.

She was a child when the monster came. The beast that stole her mother from her. Tywin had named the creature Tyrion - but Cersei knew him for what he was. A curse. A plague. An infection. His first crime had been being born, but his second? His second was surviving. Cersei hoped and prayed, morning and night, that Tyrion would die. She prayed to all seven gods, and begged them to take him away. When Tyrion lived, though, and Joanna remained dead, Cersei cursed the gods. What was faith when it couldn't protect the ones you loved? Why should her mother die while the little beast lived and breathed? With her little chin held high, Cersei condemned her father and brother. Silently, of course. Tywin, for allowing Tyrion to live, and Jaime, for taking pity on him. The loss of her mother left Cersei with one parental figure - her father. Tywin had never been a warm man. He was commanding and authoritative. He lived for the survival of the family, and Cersei adopted from him her fierce sense of familial duty. While Jaime ran and romped, while Tyrion waddled and whined - Cersei learned. She became Tywin's shadow - adopting his attitude, imitating his strength.

She was a lioness, after all.

While her younger cousins twirled their hair and giggled at potential suitors, Cersei maintained her cold reserve. She was withdrawn, and aloof. Once, she caught one of her handmaidens plucking jewelry from her room. She had the girl beaten. With delicate brows raised, green eyes softly glowing - Cersei licked her lips, enjoying her first taste of what felt like real power. Even when Jaime cocked his head at her harshness, Cersei shrugged - unconcerned. The sheep would not steal from the lions. Besides, if a Lannister didn't flash her claws every now and then, perhaps the world would forget she had them. Better to be cruel than weak.

And she was meant to roar.

Cersei couldn't remember the first time she'd kissed Jaime - but it had never felt wrong. Being near him had always felt right. She felt stronger with him present. And maybe...maybe she was better with him close. Her smiles were warmer, her laughter more generous. There was a genuine warmth to her eyes, whenever her twin was near. She'd always liked watching him in the yard while he was training. Darting to and fro with his sword in hand. But it didn't seem fair, to her. As a girl, she'd scowled. Why wasn't she given a blunted blade? Watching Jaime's bumbling opponents, she sneered. Cersei knew she could do better. But while Jaime was being taught to wield weapons, Cersei was instructed how to curtsy. She learned to sew, studied passages out of The Seven Pointed Star, and sang hymns. Her father did allow her to study the history of Westeros, however. He encouraged it. She could recite the names of the great Houses better than Jaime. She knew their words, the names of their lords and bannermen - she knew what they called their castles. While Jaime fidgeted and Tyrion prattled on about dragons, Cersei sat, rehearsing her knowledge at dinner before Lord Tywin - always eager for his approval.

But he only had eyes for Jaime.

Jaime was the golden son. No matter what Cersei did, Tywin remained unimpressed. His cold stare would pass over his three children, and linger on Jaime. Always, always Jaime. It didn't matter what she said, what she did. Despite being Tywin's eldest child, she was not his heir. Not his son. At least Tyrion would pass on the Lannister name - she, though, would be forced to surrender it.

A lion is not meant to be caged.

Tywin planned to marry her to Rhaegar Targaryen. It would be fitting, she remembered him saying, to have a Lannister married to to future king. Cersei had been pleased with the prospect. Queen. She would be queen. Jaime was furious, of course, but he was a man - and men are thoughtless. Didn't he realize the power she would have? She would bear Rhaegar's children. Little princes and princesses - she would shape the future. But it all turned to dust in her hands. When the Mad King matched his handsome son with Elia Martell, Tywin nearly went mad. Passing his daughter over for a Dornish girl. Disgraceful. When Cersei found out, she grit her teeth and cried - alone, and in her chambers. Away from even Jaime's gaze. She was tired of living in a world where she could not control her own fate. She couldn't bear to think of being passed on to a common lord. She had an appetite now. A thirst for power. She was a Lannister. She was meant to rule.
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