Jon Cersei Novels & Stories

Aaron was sitting behind his desk, a smug smile on his face. "You are sick Aaron, gold diggers liars, manipulators how dare you!" Cercei yelled walking closer to his desk. Aaron's smile only grew wider. "Oh, Cersei," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You really don't get it, do you? It was never about you. It was never about us." Cersei felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. "What are you talking about?" Aaron leaned back in his chair, his expression was unreadable. "You're not the first woman I've been with, Cercei. You're not even the first woman I've been with who's had, my child."

Hearing it spoken in the open air above the Atlantic gave it a different quality. Permanent was the word she kept arriving at. Not ending. Permanent. The crown of the Vael bloodline was a physical object smaller than she'd expected, old metal worn smooth by time, carrying nothing theatrical. Seren placed it on Caspian's head with the precise care of someone who had done this for three hundred years and understood that the object was less significant than the moment. He became, in that moment, what he had been becoming for a very long time. She watched it happen.

"For Stannis. Or your brother, it's all the same. Why else seek your father's gods? You're praying for our defeat. What would you call that, if not treason?" "I pray for Joffrey," she insisted nervously. "Why, because he treats you so sweetly?" The queen took a flagon of sweet plum wine from a passing serving girl and filled Sansa's cup. "Drink," she commanded coldly. "Perhaps it will give you the courage to deal with truth for a change." Sansa lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. The wine was cloyingly sweet, but very strong. "You can do better than that," Cersei said. "Drain the cup, Sansa. Your queen commands you." It almost gagged her, but Sansa emptied the cup, gulping down the th

They bow, taking their seat once done. "This is Xolo Levy, and he's from the Aztec Isles." he gestures, and the boy with the cocoa brown hair smiles, giving me a small wave. I wave back, feeling like this one is full of mischief, and Quill skips over Lip, gesturing to Cersei who refuses to meet my eyes. She wears a rose pink gown with laces in the front, the laces neatly tied up to the base of her throat, the sleeves going down to her elbows, face composed in a blank expression. Her hair is pinned up in the usual bun.

She was no mere warrior; she embodied a mother’s fierce fury, making her even more dangerous. Remus’s vast empire spanned the globe, but the ruin of his main company dealt a significant blow, requiring considerable time to recover. However, the debt was far from settled; in fact, we had merely scratched the surface. “Sire,” Frank entered my study, wearing a concerned expression. “Miss Cercei wishes to see you,” he informed me, appearing uneasy. “Why?” I furrowed my brow, immediately rising to my feet and going to her room. What vexation had occurred to her now?

Time passed, though she could no longer measure it. Exhausted, she collapsed on the floor, unable to speak. Only then did Jack stop, leaning over her with a threat. “Alanna, I’m warning you one last time. Lewis is dead. If you want to live, obey me. “Cross me again, and you’ll be very sorry that you did!” … Disgusted by the blood on his hands, Jack locked the door and went to the bathroom to clean himself. Alanna lay sprawled across the floor, drenched in blood and utterly ruined.

ELEANOR The stone floor of the Great Hall was cold beneath my feet. Ciaran had been obsessed with my lineage and origin since we got back from the Siren Kingdom, and I couldn’t blame him. I was curious, too. I had been losing my mind trying to come up with explanations for how I had managed to grow the lilies out of nowhere, not to mention all the other things that had happened to me that I didn’t have explanations for. Today, he was looking for answers. He’d brought in a high witch, a woman named Mother Vane.

Their skins turning pale, their bodies having sparse flesh atop its skeletal framework and veins turning black making them look more or like zombies. The remaining four had to find a cure for this ailment, "Black Death"; they called it, Kimora was created by them, it came with a price, killing everyone with dark matter and three of the elders died in the process, Kimora was so powerful it did the job but a little too well having a mind of its own the last Elder saw this as a threat had the Kimora gotten rid of and he vanished not to be seen again.

For a moment, she saw herself multiplied by a thousand Biancas, each carrying the same violence, the same sorrow. Then Serena appeared in the glass. Half her face was burned, the left eye pale and glazed. Metal braces lined her neck, her hand trembling as she leveled a pistol. But her smile was alive, feral and divine. “So the Blood Queen comes to finish her sermon,” Serena said, her voice a rasp of ruin. “Tell me, does Matteo know what you sacrificed to wear that crown?” Bianca circled slowly, eyes flicking between the mirrors. “You talk about crowns as if you didn’t trade yours for chains.”

Just what is she capable of? "Okay. I've heard you. Who is your boss?” He scoffs “You don't get it, do you? Even if you know who my boss is, there's nothing you can do about it. This thing has been going on for twenty-five years plus, Bella is just a pawn in this whole game. She's little, and there's nothing that you or she can do to stop what has been planned. My boss is angry, and he's going to move through whatever stands in his way.”