Chaos and Order - A Multiverse Fanfic

0170 The Thousand Tales Parasite!

A few minutes before,

The Room

For eons, there had been no wise men brave enough to change the definition of Room, adding windows as a quintessential part of the word. Now, though, any space enclosed by walls, a floor, and a ceiling was worthy enough to be pronounced a Room.

This Room also adhered to the definition, doing the bare minimum. It had four walls, yes. White. So white that it almost felt as if the Creator of the universe must have referenced it while creating the color white. It also had a white floor and a white ceiling.

The most conflicting thing was that there was no actual way to measure the room.

It seemed to stretch in one direction if concentrated long enough, and its ceiling seemed to go on forever up and up in a never-ending cycle. It was as big as it was small. The points where the walls' edges met felt wrong, too. Like a convolution of grotesque geometry, incomprehensible to sane minds.

The room wasn't empty and had over one color that didn't belong to it.

There was a bed lying against one wall. Its color was black, and even the sheets were black.

A black mist was seeping off the bed and sheets like dry ice. Near the bed was a table. It was black too. On the table were many black flagons of red wine, black cups, and many miscellaneous accessories. On one side of the table, leaning against the wall was a black chair.

A young Cersei was seated on it queenly, sloshing a cup of wine in her hand, and her gaze deep as if brooding over something hard. She was wearing a black gown, the light black mist lifting off it in many thin curls. Her shiny diamond-like earrings were black too.

Opposite the wall portraying this scene was another bed.

Simpler than the one that belonged to Cersei, but equally noble and clean. There was a table on its side, too. On the tables were flagons of wine and two books, the curls of black mist blurring their titles.

In front of the wall, that was connecting these two opposite walls having beds, there was a simple black chair and a black table with no bed. On the table was a huge black Book, giving out the thickest curls of the black mist. It had a thick binding, and it was opened to only a few pages as if someone had just started to write or read it. There was an inkpot, a long quill with black feathers, and a black cloth, probably to clear away stray ink spots, on the table as well.

It felt like every single thing in this room was placed to contrast the Room's whiteness.

Suddenly, a mass of black mist materialized in between the two beds, rising like a column, and becoming a tornado.

Cersei's eyes narrowed and stole her gaze away from whatever she was looking at so deeply.

The tornado of the black mist took the form of a young man, almost 15 years old, with the faintest hint of stubble dancing under his chin. He was wearing a black doublet over breeches, all giving out the same vapory black curls.

He was Petyr Baelish.

Petyr turned to look at Cersei. "You must be happy," he said, smiling slyly. "You have craved for our master's seed for long, I presume. If gods are in your favor, then he might just upgrade your tale after all."

"You presume too much, littlefinger," she said, slowly, sipping her wine. "He will upgrade my tale, I know. Pity the gods have nothing to say in this, otherwise, I would have asked him to let you rot like a boy forever."

Petyr chuckled, taking a seat on the chair by his own bed and table. "A new friend is coming," he told her. "Quite eccentric, this one. You must have heard her. Oh! I can't tell how lovely she is looking in that strange dress. For one moment, even I thought our master would be foolish enough to rip her clothes and take her maidenhead. I did suggest this to him once."