Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 54: Cersei Progress

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Third POV

In the training yard of Casterly Rock, two nine-nameday golden-haired youths circled each other, their piercing green eyes locked in an unspoken challenge. 

The air between them was thick with tension.

The resemblance was uncanny—golden hair catching the afternoon sun, sharp features marked by youthful determination. 

They were Jaime and Cersei Lannister, twins as alike as two sides of the same coin.

At an even 4'5", they stood eye to eye, though their postures revealed their differences. Jaime was clad in padded training gear: a gold-and-red long-sleeved tunic and trousers, his wooden sword gripped tightly in both hands. 

His short-cropped hair framed a face set in concentration, his stance firm and deliberate, just as Ser Rupert, the master-at-arms, had drilled into him.

Cersei, on the other hand, radiated a relaxed confidence. Her training clothes mirrored her brother's, but her golden hair, tied back in a sleek ponytail, swayed lightly as she moved. 

Her wooden sword hung loosely at her side, her stance narrow, almost casual. A faint smile played on her lips, teasing Jaime's serious demeanor.

Around the yard, a small crowd watched intently—squires, servants, and even Cersei's lady-in-waiting. The spectators murmured quietly as the twins sized each other up.

Jaime advanced first, his sword raised, his movements measured and cautious. His gaze never wavered, his focus unbroken as he inched closer.

Cersei didn't move. She stayed light on her toes, her smirk growing as she tilted her head ever so slightly, as if daring him to strike.

The tension snapped like a taut string as Jaime lunged forward, his wooden sword cutting through the air. The sharp crack of colliding blades rang out, and the match began.

Jaime attacked with purpose, each strike aimed at what he thought were openings in Cersei's loose defense. But Cersei was quicker. She deflected his blows with a flick of her wrist, her wooden blade gliding effortlessly to parry his strikes.

The sparring turned into a dance, Jaime pressing forward with intensity, while Cersei moved with precision, her footwork impeccable. 

Jaime's blows grew faster, harder, but they never seemed to land. Each time, Cersei twisted out of the way or met his sword with just enough force to throw him off balance.

The yard fell into hushed silence, save for the rhythmic clatter of wooden swords. Jaime's determination shone through his every movement, but Cersei's cool composure revealed her cunning.

Where Jaime relied on power and technique, Cersei outmatched him with wit and agility.

Then, with a sudden feint, Cersei sidestepped one of Jaime's thrusts, her footwork carrying her smoothly to his blind side. Before Jaime could recover, she pushed him hard between the shoulder blades.

Jaime stumbled forward, his balance lost. He hit the dirt with a muffled grunt, his wooden sword slipping from his hand.

The crowd gasped and murmured in disapproval of the dirty move, but Cersei ignored them, her smirk widening as she leaned casually on her sword. "Get up, Jaime," she said, her voice laced with mockery. "Stop kissing the ground, it doesn't suit you."

Jaime spat out a mouthful of dust, his face flushed red with embarrassment. "That wasn't fair!" he snapped, glaring at her. "Fight properly like a knight!"

Cersei's laugh was light and infuriating. "Oh, Jaime," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "Don't you know? I'm a lady. I can't be a knight, so I don't have to play by knightly rules."

Jaime scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt off his tunic. His green eyes burned with renewed determination. He retrieved his sword and, with a roar, charged at her.

Cersei's smirk widened. She had rattled him, and she knew it. This time, she didn't wait for him to make a mistake. As Jaime closed the distance, she stepped forward boldly to meet his charge.

Her first strike was a simple one, aimed for his chest. Jaime deflected it easily, but before he could respond, she twisted her wrist, redirecting her sword toward his thigh. The blow landed with a satisfying thwack, and Jaime winced.

She followed with a fluid finishing sequence, feinting high before aiming a decisive strike toward his liver. Jaime, desperate, swung wildly in a clumsy arc.

The unexpected force of his strike forced Cersei to step back, but his overreach left him exposed. Quick as a cat, she stepped to his side and shoved him again.

Jaime hit the dirt, harder this time, a puff of dust rising around him. He groaned in frustration, lying sprawled on the ground.

Cersei stood above him, victorious, her golden hair catching the sunlight. She rested her wooden sword on her shoulder and grinned down at him. "Care for another lesson, little brother?"

Jaime groaned again but didn't let her taunts keep him down. Brushing himself off, he grabbed his sword, his jaw set in determination.

Cersei rolled her shoulders, readying herself. The twins locked eyes once more, their golden heads gleaming under the midday sun.

With a nod from Jaime, the spar began anew.

…

Cersei POV

I sat on the balcony, my feet swinging over the edge of the chair. The night was cool, and the breeze played with my damp hair. My nightgown was still a bit wet from the bath. 

The servants scrubbed me until my skin turned pink, muttering about dirt and dust like it was the end of the world. I let them, though. It wasn't like they could scrub away the heavy feeling in my chest.

The stars were bright tonight, scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds. They were pretty, but they made me feel small. 

I held Rick's book in my hands, its leather cover smooth and warm. I'd kept it safe—hidden, really—in the little wooden box under my bed. 

Not even Jaime knew about it. Carefully, I opened it, running my fingers over the pictures of swords and shields, the little drawings of people standing in funny poses. Rick's neat handwriting filled the margins, the letters sharp and perfect.

I hugged the book to my chest, closing my eyes. I could almost hear him.

"Cersei," he had said, "you want to be like Princess Nymeria, right? Learn these moves, and you'll be unbeatable." 

He always said things like that, like he believed in me even when I didn't. Rick had this way of looking at me, like he already knew I could do anything I wanted. It made me feel special, like I was the only person in the world who mattered to him.

I thought about the times we spent together, sneaking out at night to spar or explore the city. He'd bring me cakes or make me laugh so hard my sides hurt. 

He made everything feel like an adventure. But he wasn't here now, and the quiet was louder without him.

The scratch of claws on stone made me jump. My eyes flew open, and I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the balcony railing, was an eagle.

Not just any eagle. Rick's eagle.

"Odin!" I gasped, jumping out of the chair. My heart felt like it might burst.

The eagle cocked his head, his one good eye glowing red in the candlelight. The scar over the other one made him look a little scary, but I wasn't scared of him. Odin was Rick's, which made him mine, too.

I scooped him up in my arms, even though he squawked and wriggled. "You came back!" I said, laughing.

He flapped his wings a little before I let him go, and he hopped back onto the railing. That's when I saw it—a little scroll tied to his leg with a leather strip.

"A letter!" I whispered, my hands shaking as I untied it.

Rick had been sending me letters for moons now. Odin always brought them, flying all the way from wherever Rick was. Each one made me feel closer to him, like he hadn't really left at all.

I smoothed the parchment and started to read. His handwriting was just as neat as ever. He told me about his life—about being a lord and all the important things he was doing. 

Some of it sounded boring, but I read every word anyway. I liked knowing he was okay.

By the time I finished, I was smiling so much my cheeks hurt. Rick hadn't forgotten me, not even a little. I folded the letter carefully and set it on my bed. I had to write back right away.

I grabbed my quill and parchment from the desk and started writing. I told him about my training and how I was getting better at swordplay. I told him about Jaime, too, and how I've been beating him more lately.

I asked more about Rick's daily lifestyle, about his hobbies and the things he hadn't written about in this letter. I wanted to know everything.

When I was done, I read the letter twice to make sure it was perfect. Then I tied it to Odin's leg, my fingers brushing his feathers. They were soft but strong.

"Take this to Rick," I said softly, leaning in to kiss Odin's scarred head. "Don't let anything happen to it."

Odin let out a little screech before spreading his wings. I watched as he soared into the night sky, disappearing into the stars.

I stayed there for a while, staring after him. My chest felt warm and light, like the stars weren't so far away after all. I couldn't wait for Rick's next letter.

…

Note: Next chapter we get some carnage. This chapter is a slice of life compare to next chapter.