Red Vengeance

As Cersei roused herself from bed and opened her eyes, she saw sunlight streaming into the window, shining a light on Melisandre sitting on the rocking chair as she bounced little Joanna on her knee. She sang softly, in High Valeryian, so that she wouldn't wake her lover up, but Cersei was pleased to hear Melisandre's singing. After Cersei's child had been born, Melisandre's singing was sometimes the only thing that helped the infant stop crying, and it continued to enchant and calm Joanna throughout the first year of the princess' life. Melisandre's voice had been the only thing to calm Cersei during the pain of childbirth.

It was a bizarre sight: peace in King's Landing. No one had expected to see sunlight in the capital again, for it was said that the next winter would be agonizingly long. But Cersei's tactic of staying out of The Great War had proven, to all her enemies' surprise, to be to her advantage.Yes, the Dragon Queen had proven useful, her dragons' fire burning the army of the dead and extinguishing winter for good, bringing sunshine back into the Red Keep's windows. But when the ice dragon—Cersei couldn't bother keeping their silly names straight—took one final breath onto his mother and the Pretender in the North, Jon Snow, as they rode atop Drogon together, all hopes of a re-established Targaryen dynasty vanished. And Cersei was still Queen.

The Northerners had rebelled, of course, led by the girl that would be no woman without Cersei's wisdom and counsel, Sansa Stark. But, after learning that Sansa had not killed Joffrey, and after Melisandre told Cersei of the courage and integrity she'd witnessed Sansa display during her own time in the North, Cersei eventually agreed to a compromise. Melisandre had softened Cersei's icy heart enough for the word "compromise" to even enter her vocabulary. As a result, Sansa Stark ruled as the Lady of Winterfell in the independent North (her tramp of a sister had traveled West of Westeros), with Queen Cersei continuing her reign over the rest of the Kingdoms, and the birth of baby Joanna ensuring the future of a Lannister legacy. It was easy enough to dispose of Euron Greyjoy; once he delivered the gold he'd promised from the Golden Company, he soon met death by fire, the purest death, as Melisandre and Cersei looked on and smirked at one another approvingly.

As Melisandre brushed through little Joanna's blonde curls with her long, graceful fingers, they heard a knock on the door. "Who calls?" Cersei asked. "Your Hand," she heard Qyburn respond. Cersei and Melisandre looked at one another and laughed; Qyburn was the official Hand of The Queen, but, as Melisandre had pointed out one night, only she had her hand in the queen. Ever since this comment, both women could hardly contain themselves from rapturous laughter every time Qyburn called himself "the Hand." "Come in," Cersei commanded, as she put on a robe and opened the door. Her hip-length golden tresses, restored through magic by her lover, glimmered in the sunlight. "Forgive me, my queen, for intruding," Qyburn said, "but you have a visitor. One that you'll want to meet in the Throne Room. It is urgent." "Fine," Cersei signed, and rolled her eyes. This was supposed to be a peaceful morning with her lover and her baby girl, not a time for politics. Melisandre helped Cersei into her red lion-brocaded gown and combed her hair, pulled on her hair, and bit her neck. "Not now," Cersei murmured. "Apparently it's urgent." "If you say so," Melisandre pouted, and gently nibbled on Cersei's ear before placing her crown atop her head.

As both women left their chamber, Cersei's handmaidens trailed behind them into the Throne Room. Cersei took her seat on the Iron Throne, Qyburn standing on one side, Melisandre on the other holding Joanna. "Bring the traitor in" Qyburn commanded.

The Queensguard brought in a dirty man with long blonde hair caked in mud, bearded and held by chains by Ser Gregor, his head downcast. At first Cersei didn't recognize him, but then his green eyes glanced into hers. For there he was. For the first time in over a year, there he was. The man she had loved since before she could remember, the man she never thought she'd feel whole without. She'd heard no word of her traitor brother after the Great War had ended, and while her heart still ached when she thought of him leaving her pregnant and alone on that cold day, Melisandre had done more than fill the hole in her heart he'd opened. She'd shown the Queen a deeper love—not to mention, better orgasms—than Jaime ever had. Yes, she was still part of one whole, but Melisandre was now her other half.