Cersei Lannister Wine Goblet Novels & Stories

I clutched the golden goblet in my hand tighter, my fingers trembling around its stem. Caelora stood near the first row of guests, waiting. As I neared her, she stepped forward and handed me a goblet—filled with a deep, rich wine. Fae tradition, she’d explained earlier. A symbolic gift, to walk down the aisle with instead of a human bouquet. To drink together after the vows were exchanged. I didn’t ask what kind of wine it was. The chalice felt heavier than it should’ve. I nodded my thanks and took a breath—then stepped forward again.

Only one servant remained, distracted by the clatter of trays near the back. Marcello moved swiftly. His fingers slipped into his pocket, retrieving the small vial—the witches’ gift. Inside, the silver liquid shimmered unnaturally, swirling as if alive. “Only a sip,” the witch had whispered. “And the bond will shatter forever.” He uncorked the vial, carefully pouring it into the goblet set aside on the polished tray—Dante’s glass, marked with the black crest of the alpha. It hissed faintly as it mixed with the deep red wine, but the color didn’t change. No scent. No sign.

Chapter 47 Reception, Toast and younger merlings Madissa leads the group to the table situated near the steps of the temple, where the honored seats for the mates of the ceremony are reserved. As Joe and Bryan take their seats, they notice the specially crafted goblets for toasting. These goblets contain a unique red wine that has been transformed into a gel-like substance to prevent it from dispersing into the underwater atmosphere. The gel ensures that the wine stays within the confines of the goblet, allowing the merfolk to enjoy their toasts without any spillage or waste.

The suitors bowed deeply, aware that this audience was a precursor to the final trial, yet uncertain of what awaited them. The Empress offered a gracious smile, and with a subtle motion of her hand, Cedric stepped forward, carrying a silver tray upon which rested two ornate goblets. The liquid inside was a deep crimson, swirling gently within the finely crafted vessels. The aroma that wafted from them was rich and intoxicating, a scent that spoke of aged wine, luxurious and rare.

She had seen the gilded cage, and part of her hated how its comforts had left a faint, traitorous longing in her bones. The great hall was a cavern, its ceiling lost in darkness, lit by fire pits and torches that guttered in the drafts. Trophies hung on the walls—not tapestries, but the banners of fallen enemies, the massive antlers of mountain elk, and strange, intricate maps carved into wooden panels. At the head of the room, on a simple stone dais, stood a chair made of interlocking elk antlers. Lord Valerius did not sit in it. He stood before a great carved map of the Iron Pass, his fingers tracing lines only he could see.

pressed light between the branches overhead, casting red across his bare chest. He was naked from the waist up, skin pale and gleaming with sweat, muscles corded like ropes strung too tight. Black ink covered his arms, ancient runes twisting down from shoulder to wrist like ivy born from darkness. He held something in his hands. A silver goblet... tarnished and dented... filled to the brim with blood. Not just anyone’s blood. Hers. Collected from the sigil tree. From the altar she had bled on. From the ground she had walked upon. His scouts had stolen it, drop by drop, feeding it to the chalice like an offering.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Serena laughed at a clear, crystalline sound that made Bianca’s skin crawl. “Shall we drink that, cara mia?” A servant approached with a silver tray. Two glasses of dark red wine, twin reflections of temptation. Cardinal Orsini murmured a Latin prayer and gestured for them to toast. Bianca met Serena’s gaze. Something flickered behind that smile, too easy, too calm. The faintest tremor in the servant’s hand. Bianca knew the look of a kill disguised as ritual.

Feeling more like himself, he reached out boldly to find his wine goblet Splunk! His hand collided with the thin stem of the goblet, toppling it onto its side. He heard wine sluice over the table and the chatter around the table halted. Cedric, even blind, could sense every eye in the room fixed upon him. It was mortifying. The only relief was that he couldn't see the pity in their faces.

he said as he slowly lifted his goblet to his lips, “and your father owes us a deal that he had broken.” “What do you m—“ His eyes grew wide as the goblet was only inches away from his lips. I saw the anger burned within his eyes to the point that it melted away its icy appearance— it turned fiery red. Lord Victor held the chalice tightly and it broke in his hand, pieces fell down the marble floors. The liquid sizzled in his touch. “Vervain,” he hissed.

I forced a polite smile onto my face, my hands clasped tightly in my lap to hide their trembling. Servants began to filter into the grand room with an air of practiced grace. They carried silver trays laden with beautifully arranged dishes, the various courses of our imminent meal. The aroma of delicacies wafted through the room, a heady mix of roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and the wine that sparkled in gem-encrusted goblets. I watched as Prince Kinnison reached for the goblet in front of him. That goblet contains the potion of charm. Once he takes a sip, he'll be under its spell, I thought with clenched fists. I knew I had to intervene.