Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Cersei Progress
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Third POV

In the training yard of Casterly Rock, two nine-nameday golden-haired youths circled each other, their piercing green eyes locked in an unspoken challenge.

The air between them was thick with tension.

The resemblance was uncanny—golden hair catching the afternoon sun, sharp features marked by youthful determination.

They were Jaime and Cersei Lannister, twins as alike as two sides of the same coin.

At an even 4'5", they stood eye to eye, though their postures revealed their differences. Jaime was clad in padded training gear: a gold-and-red long-sleeved tunic and trousers, his wooden sword gripped tightly in both hands.

His short-cropped hair framed a face set in concentration, his stance firm and deliberate, just as Ser Rupert, the master-at-arms, had drilled into him.

Cersei, on the other hand, radiated a relaxed confidence. Her training clothes mirrored her brother's, but her golden hair, tied back in a sleek ponytail, swayed lightly as she moved.

Her wooden sword hung loosely at her side, her stance narrow, almost casual. A faint smile played on her lips, teasing Jaime's serious demeanor.

Around the yard, a small crowd watched intently—squires, servants, and even Cersei's lady-in-waiting. The spectators murmured quietly as the twins sized each other up.

Jaime advanced first, his sword raised, his movements measured and cautious. His gaze never wavered, his focus unbroken as he inched closer.

Cersei didn't move. She stayed light on her toes, her smirk growing as she tilted her head ever so slightly, as if daring him to strike.

The tension snapped like a taut string as Jaime lunged forward, his wooden sword cutting through the air. The sharp crack of colliding blades rang out, and the match began.

Jaime attacked with purpose, each strike aimed at what he thought were openings in Cersei's loose defense. But Cersei was quicker. She deflected his blows with a flick of her wrist, her wooden blade gliding effortlessly to parry his strikes.

The sparring turned into a dance, Jaime pressing forward with intensity, while Cersei moved with precision, her footwork impeccable.

Jaime's blows grew faster, harder, but they never seemed to land. Each time, Cersei twisted out of the way or met his sword with just enough force to throw him off balance.

The yard fell into hushed silence, save for the rhythmic clatter of wooden swords. Jaime's determination shone through his every movement, but Cersei's cool composure revealed her cunning.

Where Jaime relied on power and technique, Cersei outmatched him with wit and agility.

Then, with a sudden feint, Cersei sidestepped one of Jaime's thrusts, her footwork carrying her smoothly to his blind side. Before Jaime could recover, she pushed him hard between the shoulder blades.

Jaime stumbled forward, his balance lost. He hit the dirt with a muffled grunt, his wooden sword slipping from his hand.

The crowd gasped and murmured in disapproval of the dirty move, but Cersei ignored them, her smirk widening as she leaned casually on her sword. "Get up, Jaime," she said, her voice laced with mockery. "Stop kissing the ground, it doesn't suit you."

Jaime spat out a mouthful of dust, his face flushed red with embarrassment. "That wasn't fair!" he snapped, glaring at her. "Fight properly like a knight!"

Cersei's laugh was light and infuriating. "Oh, Jaime," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "Don't you know? I'm a lady. I can't be a knight, so I don't have to play by knightly rules."