Post by fan2000 on Apr 12, 2019 19:27:40 GMT -6
(Disclaimer: First off I apologize for the quality of this piece, it's not up to my usual standards but it's a fun little piece that I just wanted to create. Second, this short story mixes elements from both the show Game of Thrones and the books series it's based off)
Walking onto the Belfast soundstage, the three actresses found themselves alone except for a table, three chairs, three goblets, and a bottle. Emilia Clarke, Lena Headey, and Sophie Turner dressed in the respective wardrobes of their characters Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister, and Sansa Stark of Game of Thrones. As they looked around confused, they heard one of the large doors at one end of the stage slam shut.
“That sounded ominous,” Sophie half jested before turning serious, “This better not be one of those fake multiple endings their planning on filming. I didn’t get any lines.”
Lena took a seat in a heavy wood throne-like chair very much befitting the entitled tone her character Cersei had taken over the seasons. “I doubt it. Dan and Dave have probably set up something for the blooper reel before or during the photoshoot.” She poured the contents of the bottle into a goblet and took a swig, “This is actual wine.”
Emilia having taken her own seat, grabbed the bottle filling her own goblet. As she took a taste, Lena motioned to Sophie to sit as she poured the wine into the third goblet. While Sophie was arranging her attire, Emilia added, “We probably shouldn’t drink any more than a glass until the shoots over.”
“Are you kidding?” Lena asked refilling her goblet, “Let’s get sauced for this thing. Sophie either drink up on your own or I’m going to have to pour it down your throat.”
Sophie finished the sip she was taking then chugged the rest of the goblet before setting it down on the table with a thump. As she met the impressed expressions on Lena and Emilia’s faces, all three actresses’ appearances changed.
Emilia’s silver-gold wig transformed into real hair replacing her natural dark brown locks, her eyes went from green to violet. Lena’s short blond wig turned into natural hair replacing her black coif then the blond color turned golden, her blue eyes becoming emerald green. Sophie’s blond hair, dyed red, became thick natural auburn locks while her green eyes became a vivid blue. Within a matter of moments, the three women appeared closer to their character’s book descriptions than their on-screen representations ever had.
Yet the three women did not seem to note the changes as they waited, but Lena wasn’t about to let the bottle of wine go to waste as she downed another goblet. The 43-year old seemed closer to 50 as the sheen of her short golden hair appeared to dull, her skin rapidly lost its firmness. Sophie begged off another glass, even as the 21-year old ventured into her mid-20s losing the last of her baby fat from her oval face and slightly longer hair. Emilia begged off as well while Lena poured herself another goblet, the 30-year old aged into her mid-30s with the only effect being the expansion of skin just under her chin.
While they sat waiting, the three women aged again appearing to be a decade older than when they had sat own. The friendliness was dissipating, not into dislike yet but their body language was beginning to give away their discomfort. Her golden hair fading into light gray, Lena grabbed the remarkably very full bottle of wine and refilled her goblet. Placing the bottle next to it, the middle-aged woman glanced at the other two as if claiming the wine for herself alone. Entering menopause, her slender frame gained a few pounds, yet it was Lena’s skin that showed her aging more than anything due to lines and wrinkles spreading and deepening as well as it gets a twinge of yellowish discoloration due to her drinking.
The three women aged another five years, the now 36-year Sophie was still looking in her prime with increasing longer hair while both Emilia and Lena were showing noticeable effects of time. Entering her mid-40s Emilia grew thicker as her dress expanded enough to remain comfortable but formed fit her increased torso. Her cheeks became chubbier and a second chin was prominent underneath her jaw. Leaving menopause behind, Lena’s slender frame lost the weight though the yellowish discoloration of her skin continued due to her constant drinking as lines, wrinkles, and sagging became more prominent.
“Here we are, in costume, and no photographers in sight,” Lena said with exasperation refilling her goblet and downing it in one go.
Sophie looked at Lena and said, “You might want to go easy.”
“Thank you for your concern,” came Lena sharp reply.
Emilia shifted in her seat as the three women aged again; the now 50-year old silver-blond haired woman was overweight having gained twice as many pounds than she had years during their time on set. Her fat oval face displayed her new weight as laugh lines around her mouth were distinguished by chubby cheeks that were softening her jawline. She turned her attention to Sophie, “I never did congratulate you on her forthcoming marriage.”
“Thank you, Emilia, that is so kind,” the 41-year redhead replied, her pale skin showing no signs of age beyond faint lines while her longer lengthen hair was less radiant.
Lena stood up, grabbed the bottle, and refilled her goblet. The 63-year old walked over towards Sophie and as she did, the light in the room revealed her short gray hair was already getting a dash of white. “Congratulations my dear, may this one be more successful than your previous unions. You’re still might know the pain and joy of children.”
The older woman’s yellowing skin was aging badly due to constant drinking. Still slender, Lena’s body was showing the effects of time with arthritis showing in her hands and osteoperiostitis with the slight bending of her upper torso forward. Turning towards Emilia, “You might want to not indulge yourself so much.”
“Mind your tongue,” Emilia began when the three women aged again, “Allow me to remind you to whom you speak. I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”
The 55-year old’s strong voice filled the room, but her 68-year old counterpart was unimpressed looking at the 5’2” menopausal fat woman. “As, I’ve heard many times before,” then took a long drink of wine emptying her goblet. With a false smile she held out it out, “Lady Sansa, would you mind refilling my goblet?”
The still seated 45-year old redhead looked at the slightly bent woman hold out her goblet then to the angry fat woman before taking the bottle of wine from the table. As she poured the wine into the goblet she suggested, “Your Grace, Lady Cersei, could we return to our seats, keep our voices low, and begin our negotiations?”
The three women grew older trading looks with one another, before Cersei took a swig from her goblet. The 73-year old woman’s short white hair appeared to be the only well-aged part of her as her discolored skin marked by numerous lines, wrinkles, and age spots appeared dried out as it sagged off her bones. She was bent forward at a greater angle then before and seemed disinclined to rejoin the two women at the table.
Daenerys walked around the table, her 200 pound body strained her dress and neck wattle jiggling as she did. “Lady Sansa has come down from Winterfell and deserves our respect, Lady Cersei. Please take your seat.” She turned to the coppery very long haired 51-year old woman, whose pale skin face showed a minimum of lines and wrinkles on her face. Then the Queen turned back to Cersei, “If not for our forces and sacrifices, you would be amongst the dead. Sit down.”
Another five years past in a blink of an eye for the three women, Daenerys sagged all over her entire body as she was fat as ever at 65. Turning from the bent over 78-year old who took another swig from her goblet, Daenerys walked over to her empty chair and sat down with a thud. The effects of decades of drink made the former Queen appear older than she was making her even bitterer. “They said you were a much fairer queen than I was, but I never went to pot nor enjoyed the kitchens as you do. I must ask if your small council are made up of cooks?”
“Lady Cersei, please,” the seated 56-year old Sansa said turning her head slightly to show her lined yet still very well aged face. Still seated, the Lady of Winterfell had the air of dignity about her even as she experienced a hot flash. The beauty of her youth might have matured but had not faded with the years. Her face’s pale skin was lined with care though it only made her appear wise and concerned for her lords and smallfolk in the North. Though she had gained weight, it only gave her a more appreciative figure that many old or young man found appealing.
“Let me ask you Lady Sansa, how did it feel to learn that your bastard brother, sorry cousin, or was he legitimate? No matter, did you have to bow the knee?”
“Do not talk of my lord husband in that tone of voice,” Daenerys shouted just before the three women grew another five years older.
The 83-year old woman turned her hunched figure towards the still very fat Queen. “I’m sorry if I disrespected His Grace, Aegon, no Aemon, maybe Jon? It’s been so long and I’m so old that my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Daenerys remained seated trying to concentrate on the standing elderly woman, but seemed distracted as well. The white haired 70-year old, still around 200 pounds, appeared to want to say something but could never get it out of her mouth or just forgot. She turned to Sansa seated across for her, almost pleading with her eyes for help.
Sansa Stark remained in the chair she had never left; her increasing longer faded copper hair was in direct contrast with her pale white skin that was finely aged for a 61-year old woman. Though lines and wrinkles were evident with loose skin here and there, the youngest of the three women appeared to be the best preserved of the group. “Lady Cersei, you’re looking tired. I suggest you return to your chair and I’ll pour you some more wine.”
Cersei finished off the goblet in her hand just as another five years past. At 88-years old, the thin old woman seemed determined to own the situation. “I will not be talked to in such language; I sat beside that damned fool Robert and was called Queen. I ruled as Queen Regent to Joffrey and Tommen before their murders, I demand you call me by my rightful title,” she said shaking with either determination or age.
“You forget Queen Dowager that the realm almost ceased to exist because of your fucking of Ser Jaime, your complete stupidity as Queen Regent, and you’re betrayal of the living in the battle against the dead. So why should we give you any consideration, Lady Lannister?”
The calm voice of the 66-year old seemed to unnerve the bent over white haired old woman. Sansa remained seated and shifted the bottle of wine from one hand to another, her pale face framed by her fading copper and increasing rosy-blond hair. She was about to speak when Queen Daenerys screamed, “Who do you think you are?”
The 75-year old woman lifted her hefty body up from the chair as the two other ladies looked at her. “I demand you bend the knee!”
Cersei and Sansa looked at the fat woman as they again aged five years, the former’s 93-year old body bent down lower as she clutched her goblet with both hands and licked her lips while the latter’s hair increased in length becoming mostly rosy-blond with threads of faded copper woven within. Daenerys looked from the ancient-looking bent old woman and the 71-year old sitting calmly in a wooden chair, clearly confused.
With her free hand Sansa shifted her dress then grabbed a white weirwood staff as she rose with ease and stood in front of the stooping 93-year old. Though in her elder years Sansa had aged gracefully, standing straight making her tower over Cersei while her hair cascaded down to her knees. The hard lines around her mouth and thinness of her face gave the northern Lady a permanently stern expression. “Do you think you can frighten me?” Cersei hissed.
“You are in a gilded cage, Lady Lannister,” Sansa began, “Remember many wanted you executed for everything you had done, including all the other branches of House Lannister. Her Grace was somewhat inclined to the idea until they found Ellaria Sand, then somehow death seemed too easy. And so your confinement in the Maidenvault was decided, so close to power yet never allowed to grasp it again with ever present choice to continue living or to embrace death.”
Sudden Daenerys interrupted the conversation, “Lena, Sophie we’re old.” The fat woman was no longer in the regal robes but in Dothraki garb not hiding her plump figure at all while her one’s styled hair was frenzy and wild.
Cersei muttered, “She’s as mad as her father.” And for the final time the three women aged five years.
Cersei and Sansa turned towards the fat 85-year old woman who appeared confused and looked around the entire room before exclaiming, “Where are my dragons?” Daenerys began shuffling around and the room in search of her dragons.
Cersei turned back to Sansa, the 98-year old woman appeared ancient as her yellowed, lined, wrinkled, age spotted, and thin skin clung to her bones. Her fine, short white hair had thinned considerably exposing half her scalp to view. She looked up into the stern face of Sansa, framed by her extremely long silvery-white hair with no hint that it had ever been red. The 76-year old looked down unimpressed.
“Five and ten years ago Her Grace as her mind began to wander thought it best for the realm to withdraw here allowing her son Maekar, Second of His Name, to rule. Though I believe she also hoped to drive you mad as well,” Sansa replied with a hint of a smile.
“Her Dothage only geths worthe,” Cersei slurred while licked her toothless gums.
Sansa looked down, “All you need is to open those doors and step out. My sister would be more than happy to give you mercy.”
The ancient woman shook with fear at the thought before the sound of liquid hitting the floor was heard as Daenerys shouted out, “Messandrei?! Grey Worm?! Where are my bloodriders?!” Making the two old women look to see that the bewildered Queen, “Could you help me? I’m looking for a house with a red door and a lemon tree.”
Sansa replied, “Don’t worry Your Grace, I’ll have someone help you,” before turning to Cersei, “It seems Lady Lannister that you’ve had an accident, let me fill your goblet while you take a chair and I get some servants to help you.”
“Why thould I lithen to you cthe bith?”
“Prince Aemon and his Royal father asked if I might overlook the administration of Her Grace’s household and your person while allowing my own son to be the Stark of Winterfell, it pleased me to accept. Or maybe my sister Lady Sansa died peacefully in Winterfell and she instructed her face to be given to me.” Sansa poured wine into Cersei’s goblet that shook in the ancient woman’s hand from both age and fear.
Cersei shuffled fearfully away from Sansa then falling into the sturdy wooden chair before while staring at the old Stark whose white hair extended beyond her knees. Then almost by reflex began drinking the wine, though a portion drippled down the front of her dress.
Turning from the 98-year old woman, Sansa walked towards the large doors at the entrance of the hall with weirwood staff in hand. A bell was mounted on the wall, grabbing a chord she yanked it three times, the doors opened slightly to the rings and in walked several servants. Behind them Sansa saw a gray haired, severely aged woman who was all sinews and bone polishing a short sword. They locked eyes for a moment before the door closed.
Walking onto the Belfast soundstage, the three actresses found themselves alone except for a table, three chairs, three goblets, and a bottle. Emilia Clarke, Lena Headey, and Sophie Turner dressed in the respective wardrobes of their characters Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister, and Sansa Stark of Game of Thrones. As they looked around confused, they heard one of the large doors at one end of the stage slam shut.
“That sounded ominous,” Sophie half jested before turning serious, “This better not be one of those fake multiple endings their planning on filming. I didn’t get any lines.”
Lena took a seat in a heavy wood throne-like chair very much befitting the entitled tone her character Cersei had taken over the seasons. “I doubt it. Dan and Dave have probably set up something for the blooper reel before or during the photoshoot.” She poured the contents of the bottle into a goblet and took a swig, “This is actual wine.”
Emilia having taken her own seat, grabbed the bottle filling her own goblet. As she took a taste, Lena motioned to Sophie to sit as she poured the wine into the third goblet. While Sophie was arranging her attire, Emilia added, “We probably shouldn’t drink any more than a glass until the shoots over.”
“Are you kidding?” Lena asked refilling her goblet, “Let’s get sauced for this thing. Sophie either drink up on your own or I’m going to have to pour it down your throat.”
Sophie finished the sip she was taking then chugged the rest of the goblet before setting it down on the table with a thump. As she met the impressed expressions on Lena and Emilia’s faces, all three actresses’ appearances changed.
Emilia’s silver-gold wig transformed into real hair replacing her natural dark brown locks, her eyes went from green to violet. Lena’s short blond wig turned into natural hair replacing her black coif then the blond color turned golden, her blue eyes becoming emerald green. Sophie’s blond hair, dyed red, became thick natural auburn locks while her green eyes became a vivid blue. Within a matter of moments, the three women appeared closer to their character’s book descriptions than their on-screen representations ever had.
Yet the three women did not seem to note the changes as they waited, but Lena wasn’t about to let the bottle of wine go to waste as she downed another goblet. The 43-year old seemed closer to 50 as the sheen of her short golden hair appeared to dull, her skin rapidly lost its firmness. Sophie begged off another glass, even as the 21-year old ventured into her mid-20s losing the last of her baby fat from her oval face and slightly longer hair. Emilia begged off as well while Lena poured herself another goblet, the 30-year old aged into her mid-30s with the only effect being the expansion of skin just under her chin.
While they sat waiting, the three women aged again appearing to be a decade older than when they had sat own. The friendliness was dissipating, not into dislike yet but their body language was beginning to give away their discomfort. Her golden hair fading into light gray, Lena grabbed the remarkably very full bottle of wine and refilled her goblet. Placing the bottle next to it, the middle-aged woman glanced at the other two as if claiming the wine for herself alone. Entering menopause, her slender frame gained a few pounds, yet it was Lena’s skin that showed her aging more than anything due to lines and wrinkles spreading and deepening as well as it gets a twinge of yellowish discoloration due to her drinking.
The three women aged another five years, the now 36-year Sophie was still looking in her prime with increasing longer hair while both Emilia and Lena were showing noticeable effects of time. Entering her mid-40s Emilia grew thicker as her dress expanded enough to remain comfortable but formed fit her increased torso. Her cheeks became chubbier and a second chin was prominent underneath her jaw. Leaving menopause behind, Lena’s slender frame lost the weight though the yellowish discoloration of her skin continued due to her constant drinking as lines, wrinkles, and sagging became more prominent.
“Here we are, in costume, and no photographers in sight,” Lena said with exasperation refilling her goblet and downing it in one go.
Sophie looked at Lena and said, “You might want to go easy.”
“Thank you for your concern,” came Lena sharp reply.
Emilia shifted in her seat as the three women aged again; the now 50-year old silver-blond haired woman was overweight having gained twice as many pounds than she had years during their time on set. Her fat oval face displayed her new weight as laugh lines around her mouth were distinguished by chubby cheeks that were softening her jawline. She turned her attention to Sophie, “I never did congratulate you on her forthcoming marriage.”
“Thank you, Emilia, that is so kind,” the 41-year redhead replied, her pale skin showing no signs of age beyond faint lines while her longer lengthen hair was less radiant.
Lena stood up, grabbed the bottle, and refilled her goblet. The 63-year old walked over towards Sophie and as she did, the light in the room revealed her short gray hair was already getting a dash of white. “Congratulations my dear, may this one be more successful than your previous unions. You’re still might know the pain and joy of children.”
The older woman’s yellowing skin was aging badly due to constant drinking. Still slender, Lena’s body was showing the effects of time with arthritis showing in her hands and osteoperiostitis with the slight bending of her upper torso forward. Turning towards Emilia, “You might want to not indulge yourself so much.”
“Mind your tongue,” Emilia began when the three women aged again, “Allow me to remind you to whom you speak. I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”
The 55-year old’s strong voice filled the room, but her 68-year old counterpart was unimpressed looking at the 5’2” menopausal fat woman. “As, I’ve heard many times before,” then took a long drink of wine emptying her goblet. With a false smile she held out it out, “Lady Sansa, would you mind refilling my goblet?”
The still seated 45-year old redhead looked at the slightly bent woman hold out her goblet then to the angry fat woman before taking the bottle of wine from the table. As she poured the wine into the goblet she suggested, “Your Grace, Lady Cersei, could we return to our seats, keep our voices low, and begin our negotiations?”
The three women grew older trading looks with one another, before Cersei took a swig from her goblet. The 73-year old woman’s short white hair appeared to be the only well-aged part of her as her discolored skin marked by numerous lines, wrinkles, and age spots appeared dried out as it sagged off her bones. She was bent forward at a greater angle then before and seemed disinclined to rejoin the two women at the table.
Daenerys walked around the table, her 200 pound body strained her dress and neck wattle jiggling as she did. “Lady Sansa has come down from Winterfell and deserves our respect, Lady Cersei. Please take your seat.” She turned to the coppery very long haired 51-year old woman, whose pale skin face showed a minimum of lines and wrinkles on her face. Then the Queen turned back to Cersei, “If not for our forces and sacrifices, you would be amongst the dead. Sit down.”
Another five years past in a blink of an eye for the three women, Daenerys sagged all over her entire body as she was fat as ever at 65. Turning from the bent over 78-year old who took another swig from her goblet, Daenerys walked over to her empty chair and sat down with a thud. The effects of decades of drink made the former Queen appear older than she was making her even bitterer. “They said you were a much fairer queen than I was, but I never went to pot nor enjoyed the kitchens as you do. I must ask if your small council are made up of cooks?”
“Lady Cersei, please,” the seated 56-year old Sansa said turning her head slightly to show her lined yet still very well aged face. Still seated, the Lady of Winterfell had the air of dignity about her even as she experienced a hot flash. The beauty of her youth might have matured but had not faded with the years. Her face’s pale skin was lined with care though it only made her appear wise and concerned for her lords and smallfolk in the North. Though she had gained weight, it only gave her a more appreciative figure that many old or young man found appealing.
“Let me ask you Lady Sansa, how did it feel to learn that your bastard brother, sorry cousin, or was he legitimate? No matter, did you have to bow the knee?”
“Do not talk of my lord husband in that tone of voice,” Daenerys shouted just before the three women grew another five years older.
The 83-year old woman turned her hunched figure towards the still very fat Queen. “I’m sorry if I disrespected His Grace, Aegon, no Aemon, maybe Jon? It’s been so long and I’m so old that my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Daenerys remained seated trying to concentrate on the standing elderly woman, but seemed distracted as well. The white haired 70-year old, still around 200 pounds, appeared to want to say something but could never get it out of her mouth or just forgot. She turned to Sansa seated across for her, almost pleading with her eyes for help.
Sansa Stark remained in the chair she had never left; her increasing longer faded copper hair was in direct contrast with her pale white skin that was finely aged for a 61-year old woman. Though lines and wrinkles were evident with loose skin here and there, the youngest of the three women appeared to be the best preserved of the group. “Lady Cersei, you’re looking tired. I suggest you return to your chair and I’ll pour you some more wine.”
Cersei finished off the goblet in her hand just as another five years past. At 88-years old, the thin old woman seemed determined to own the situation. “I will not be talked to in such language; I sat beside that damned fool Robert and was called Queen. I ruled as Queen Regent to Joffrey and Tommen before their murders, I demand you call me by my rightful title,” she said shaking with either determination or age.
“You forget Queen Dowager that the realm almost ceased to exist because of your fucking of Ser Jaime, your complete stupidity as Queen Regent, and you’re betrayal of the living in the battle against the dead. So why should we give you any consideration, Lady Lannister?”
The calm voice of the 66-year old seemed to unnerve the bent over white haired old woman. Sansa remained seated and shifted the bottle of wine from one hand to another, her pale face framed by her fading copper and increasing rosy-blond hair. She was about to speak when Queen Daenerys screamed, “Who do you think you are?”
The 75-year old woman lifted her hefty body up from the chair as the two other ladies looked at her. “I demand you bend the knee!”
Cersei and Sansa looked at the fat woman as they again aged five years, the former’s 93-year old body bent down lower as she clutched her goblet with both hands and licked her lips while the latter’s hair increased in length becoming mostly rosy-blond with threads of faded copper woven within. Daenerys looked from the ancient-looking bent old woman and the 71-year old sitting calmly in a wooden chair, clearly confused.
With her free hand Sansa shifted her dress then grabbed a white weirwood staff as she rose with ease and stood in front of the stooping 93-year old. Though in her elder years Sansa had aged gracefully, standing straight making her tower over Cersei while her hair cascaded down to her knees. The hard lines around her mouth and thinness of her face gave the northern Lady a permanently stern expression. “Do you think you can frighten me?” Cersei hissed.
“You are in a gilded cage, Lady Lannister,” Sansa began, “Remember many wanted you executed for everything you had done, including all the other branches of House Lannister. Her Grace was somewhat inclined to the idea until they found Ellaria Sand, then somehow death seemed too easy. And so your confinement in the Maidenvault was decided, so close to power yet never allowed to grasp it again with ever present choice to continue living or to embrace death.”
Sudden Daenerys interrupted the conversation, “Lena, Sophie we’re old.” The fat woman was no longer in the regal robes but in Dothraki garb not hiding her plump figure at all while her one’s styled hair was frenzy and wild.
Cersei muttered, “She’s as mad as her father.” And for the final time the three women aged five years.
Cersei and Sansa turned towards the fat 85-year old woman who appeared confused and looked around the entire room before exclaiming, “Where are my dragons?” Daenerys began shuffling around and the room in search of her dragons.
Cersei turned back to Sansa, the 98-year old woman appeared ancient as her yellowed, lined, wrinkled, age spotted, and thin skin clung to her bones. Her fine, short white hair had thinned considerably exposing half her scalp to view. She looked up into the stern face of Sansa, framed by her extremely long silvery-white hair with no hint that it had ever been red. The 76-year old looked down unimpressed.
“Five and ten years ago Her Grace as her mind began to wander thought it best for the realm to withdraw here allowing her son Maekar, Second of His Name, to rule. Though I believe she also hoped to drive you mad as well,” Sansa replied with a hint of a smile.
“Her Dothage only geths worthe,” Cersei slurred while licked her toothless gums.
Sansa looked down, “All you need is to open those doors and step out. My sister would be more than happy to give you mercy.”
The ancient woman shook with fear at the thought before the sound of liquid hitting the floor was heard as Daenerys shouted out, “Messandrei?! Grey Worm?! Where are my bloodriders?!” Making the two old women look to see that the bewildered Queen, “Could you help me? I’m looking for a house with a red door and a lemon tree.”
Sansa replied, “Don’t worry Your Grace, I’ll have someone help you,” before turning to Cersei, “It seems Lady Lannister that you’ve had an accident, let me fill your goblet while you take a chair and I get some servants to help you.”
“Why thould I lithen to you cthe bith?”
“Prince Aemon and his Royal father asked if I might overlook the administration of Her Grace’s household and your person while allowing my own son to be the Stark of Winterfell, it pleased me to accept. Or maybe my sister Lady Sansa died peacefully in Winterfell and she instructed her face to be given to me.” Sansa poured wine into Cersei’s goblet that shook in the ancient woman’s hand from both age and fear.
Cersei shuffled fearfully away from Sansa then falling into the sturdy wooden chair before while staring at the old Stark whose white hair extended beyond her knees. Then almost by reflex began drinking the wine, though a portion drippled down the front of her dress.
Turning from the 98-year old woman, Sansa walked towards the large doors at the entrance of the hall with weirwood staff in hand. A bell was mounted on the wall, grabbing a chord she yanked it three times, the doors opened slightly to the rings and in walked several servants. Behind them Sansa saw a gray haired, severely aged woman who was all sinews and bone polishing a short sword. They locked eyes for a moment before the door closed.