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A Game of Lannisters

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"When you play the Game of Thrones, you live or you die." - Cersei Lannister




Cersei Lannister wasn’t a kind woman. She was beautiful, sure. But only on the outside. Like all Lannisters, she has a scheming mind and a manipulative heart. Even then, I served her loyally. Her father presented me to her, a bastard from House Raine, the only one left, but I bowed to him and promised he would get no rebellion from me. Ten years old and I knew what I was, what was wrong, what I should and should not do. So first, I was placed in the kitchens until I was older by four name days. After that, Lord Tywin sent me to his daughter and I was already prepared for what she is.


She was relentless in her tasks, and I made sure that she had everything she needed. I became familiar with a lot of things. Which hairstyles were her favorite and then which ones made her look more like a golden lion in the sun. Soon, they became one and the same. Robert Baratheon's Rebellion raged on and it was as if the Rock was untouched. I chat with knights lingering around, giggling softly with one when I see one of Cersei’s other handmaidens walking towards me.


“Pardon me, ser,” I whisper, walking quickly away as my golden skirts blow around me in the wind coming off the sea. He nods and I feel his eyes on me as I walk away, but I pay the feeling no mind as I walk to Lady Cersei’s chambers, walking in and dipping into a deep curtsy before she waves her hand, dismissing all of her handmaidens but me. “My lady. How may I be of service?”


“I have a task for you. You’re going to find it rather unorthodox, but I believe these methods might be necessary in the years to come.” She turns and looks at me, her lips pursed, and I bow my head.


“I will do whatever you require of me, my lady.”


“I know you will. Go to the Lord Commander of the household guard. Don’t tell him I sent you. You’re going on your own accord. Do what you do best, Eretria. Make him talk.”


“As my lady commands,” I whisper, sweeping myself into another deep curtsy before turning and walking out of the room, a smirk on my face that can only be learned from her.