Actions

Work Header

I'll not be climbin' up, I'll only be callin' good morning

Chapter Text

In the time just before the great Age of Prosperity was the reign of the wicked Queen Cersei.

Queen Cersei had not been born to be queen, but she believed it was her destiny to become one; when she was but a girl, she stumbled upon Maggy, the hedge witch seer, who told her as much. When the Good Queen Catelyn passed away, tragically, and left behind her grieving widower, King Eddard, Cersei saw her chance. She made herself seen and known in the capitol, masking her cold heart and scheming mind behind a lovely smile. Tales of her beauty and courteousness spread until the king made her acquaintance, and soon determined she would be an appropriate consort, for the realm desperately desired a queen. Not only that, but his young daughter needed a mother.

The daughter was a wrinkle in Cersei’s plans. Cersei would have loved her own children if she ever had them, but this girl was not her daughter. At only ten years of age, she clearly possessed the King’s heart more strongly than Cersei did, but there was also the witch’s prophecy to contend with. She had told Cersei she would become queen, yes, but also that when she thought herself invincible there would come a younger queen, more beautiful even than Cersei herself, to cast her down and take her throne. As the King’s daughter, Sansa, grew, her beauty blossomed in both body and soul, which caused Cersei greater and greater worry.

In the winter of Cersei’s eighth year as queen, King Eddard was taken unexpectedly ill. The royal physicians had not seen it coming, but now that he had taken to his bed, they feared he would never leave it. The queen began to worry—not for her husband’s health, but for her own position. If the king were to die, that perfect daughter of his would rise to become queen. She would occupy the throne upon which Cersei had worked so hard to sit! And this, Cersei decided, simply would not do.

With the king on his deathbed, Queen Cersei forged his signature and cast out all his loyal advisors. When she brought in her trusted cronies, she sent out an order: the eighteen-year-old Princess Sansa would be arrested, for poisoning her own father to gain his throne before her time, and locked in a tall tower in the Wolfswood in the far reaches of the country. With no one to oppose her, Cersei’s wishes were carried out, the good and kind princess was removed from the capitol and rumored to be dead, and the king passed away in his sleep, leaving no one to the throne but Queen Cersei, first of her name.