Hers Is The Fury

Assassin

King's Landing - Cersei's Chambers]

Cersei Lannister sat alone in her chambers, surrounded by the opulent tapestries and golden accoutrements that had once brought her so much joy. But now, they seemed to mock her, their bright colors and intricate designs a cruel reminder of the happiness she had once known.

She could not help but feel betrayed by Jaime, her twin brother and the love of her life. He had deserted her, riding North to fight against the Night King and his undead army. She knew he believed it was a noble cause, but to her, it was a fool's errand. The North was a barren, unforgiving land, and the people who lived there were nothing but rabble. Why would Jaime, a man of honor and duty, throw away his life for such a lost cause?

What if he didn't come back? What if he fell in battle, or worse, was taken by the Night King and turned into one of his mindless minions? The thought of living without Jaime, of ruling the Seven Kingdoms without his guidance and support, was almost too much to bear.

Cersei pushed the thoughts aside and stood up from her bed, pacing the room instead. She knew she couldn't afford to show any weakness, not now, not when the fate of the realm hung in the balance. But as she walked, she couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that had settled in her bones.

She missed Jaime, missed his sharp mind and his unwavering loyalty. She missed the way he challenged her, pushed her to be better, and made her laugh. She missed the way he looked at her, with a mixture of love and admiration that made her feel like the most powerful woman in the world.

But she couldn't show any of this, not to anyone. She had to maintain the facade of strength and control, no matter what. So she continued to pace, her heart heavy with worry and her mind filled with thoughts of Jaime, and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

She had just received word that Dorne, the southernmost kingdom of Westeros, planned to send men to aid in the fight, but she knew that she could not trust the Martells of Dorne.

"Qyburn," she called out to her trusted advisor. "I need your help. I have reason to believe that my daughter Myrcella is in danger."

Qyburn looked, his eyes narrowing as he listened to Cersei's concerns. "What makes you think that, my queen?"

"I've received reports that the Dornish are plotting against us," Cersei replied, her voice low and urgent. "I fear that they may try to take Myrcella from me. She is still betrothed to Prince Trystane, and I cannot allow that to happen."

Qyburn nodded thoughtfully. "I understand your concerns, my queen. But what can we do? The Dornish are a powerful kingdom, and we cannot risk angering them."

"I don't care about their feelings," Cersei snapped. "I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter. I want you to send a detachment of soldiers to retrieve her from Dorne and bring her back to King's Landing."

Qyburn hesitated, weighing his options. He knew that Cersei was not one to be trifled with, but he also knew that provoking the Dornish would be a dangerous move. "My queen, I must advise against this course of action. The Dornish will not take kindly to such a move, and it could lead to open conflict."

"I don't care about their feelings," Cersei repeated, her voice cold and hard. "Do as I say, Qyburn. I want Myrcella back, and I want her back now."

Qyburn sighed, knowing that he had no choice but to obey his queen's orders. He would send the detachment of soldiers, but he knew that it would be a dangerous mission. The Dornish would not take kindly to this affront, and Cersei's paranoia would only make matters worse.

Qyburn nodded in agreement. "I have already assembled a group of men who are loyal only to you, my queen. They will leave at once for Dorne, under the guise of a trade delegation. Once they arrive, they will use any means necessary to retrieve Myrcella and bring her back to King's Landing."

Cersei's heart raced with excitement at the thought of her plan unfolding. She knew that it was a risky move, but she was willing to do whatever it took to protect her daughter and maintain her grip on the Iron Throne.

"See to it that my daughter is brought back to me safely," she commanded Qyburn. "I will not tolerate any failure in this matter."

Qyburn bowed his head in obeisance. "Your will shall be honoured, my queen."

And with that, the stage was set for a dangerous and deadly game of power and deception, one that would have far-reaching consequences for the future of the Seven Kingdoms.

As Qyburn left the room, Cersei couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had her loyal advisor on her side, and her youngest daughter would soon be safe in King's Landing, where she could keep a close eye on her. But as she sat alone in her chambers, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Every sound made her jump, every shadow made her heart race. She knew that she was being paranoid, but she couldn't help it. In her mind, the entire world was conspiring against her. She had convinced herself that everyone was out to get her, that they were all just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The next morning, Cersei walked out of her chambers, ready to face whatever the day had in store for her. But as she reached the door, she was stopped in her tracks by a sight that made her blood run cold. There, on the floor, was a detached head, staring up at her with empty eyes. Cersei let out a scream and stumbled backward, her heart racing.

She felt a chill run down her spine as she realized that the head was not just any head.

It was the head of one of her own guards, the man who had been assigned to stand watch outside her door just the night before. Cersei felt a chill run down her spine as she recognized the face, and she knew that this was no ordinary death.

She looked around, but there was no one in sight. The corridors were empty, and the only sound was the soft jingling of the torches that lined the walls. But Cersei felt like she was being watched. She could feel eyes upon her, boring into her skin like hot pokers.

She knelt down beside the head, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch the cold, lifeless face. The skin was pale and clammy, and the eyes were wide open, staring blankly into the distance. Cersei felt a shiver run down her spine as she saw that the eyes were in fact not blank, but rather filled with a cold, calculated hatred.

As she looked closer, she saw a note clutched in the hand of the guard. It was a simple message, written in a crude scrawl. "You will pay for your sins," it read. Cersei felt a wave of paranoia wash over her as she realized that this was no ordinary message. It was a threat, a warning. And she knew that she was being watched, that someone was out there, waiting for their moment to strike.

She quickly stood up, her heart racing as she scanned the corridors around her. But there was no one in sight. The only sound was the soft jingling of the torches, and the cold, empty silence of the Red Keep. Cersei knew that she had to get to the throne room, to gather her loyal guards and protect herself from whatever danger was lurking in the shadows. But as she turned to leave, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that the eyes of her enemies were upon her, waiting for their moment to strike.

Just as she was about to call for her guards, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows. Cersei's scream was silenced by a hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled and kicked, but the figure was too strong. She felt a dagger pressed against her throat, the blade cold and unforgiving.

But just as the figure was about to strike, Cersei's guards burst into the room, their swords drawn. The hooded figure fled, disappearing into the night. Cersei collapsed onto her bed, gasping for breath. She knew that whoever had sent the severed head and tried to kill her would not stop until they had achieved their goal.

She laid there, her heart racing, her mind racing with thoughts of who could have done this. She knew she had enemies, but she had never thought they would stoop to such brutal measures. She called for her maester, demanding that he send word to the city guards to be on the lookout for the hooded figure.

As she waited for the maester to return, Cersei couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She felt like she was being stalked, like the figure was still lurking in the shadows, waiting for their next opportunity to strike. She knew she had to be careful, to always be on her guard. For in the world of Westeros, one could never be too paranoid.

A/N: Sorry for the wait. My anxiety has been really bad. Also, one of my cousins passed away, so it's really put things into perspective. He was young, only 42.