ASOIAF/OC
Callen Lannister is the first Lady of Casterly Rock, and her steps are dogged by her infamous ancestor Cersei Lannister, her great aunt. But one day, Callen awakens in Cersei's body and has the chance to save their family's name and Westeros entirely.
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Excerpt
Callen Lannister watched the men train in the courtyard from the window in her office. Her long, dark blonde hair was pulled back in a simple braid and her face was pale and drawn. Her anxiety manifested itself in her picking at her short nails, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She had much to stress and fret about these days, especially after the meeting she had just held with her advisor and uncle.
The high lords of the Westerlands had begun to demand Callen marry. She had ruled the West fairly and judiciously for five years on her own, but she was a woman of twenty-five now and unwed with no heirs. Of course, many men muttered and whispered behind her back about she and her twin brother, Jeremy, as they were wont to do.
Callen cursed her foolish ancestors for their utter stupidity. Cersei and Jaime Lannister had ruined the reputation of female Lannisters for generations after their deaths, and Callen herself was now paying the price. Men and women alike glanced at she and her twin suspiciously, wondering if they, like their great aunt and uncle, were involved in an illicit affair. It revolted Callen, even thinking about ever touching her brother like that. But she had long ago grown used to the stares and whispers.
Callen turned away from the window, her gown of Lannister red swishing about her ankles, and moved to her desk. She had proposals to sift through and decline until she found the right one. She wished her grandfather was still alive. Tyrion would have known what to do, but her beloved grandfather had perished ten years ago. As the brother of the infamous Lannister lovers, he had dealt with much scrutiny, too.
Callen knew that Tyrion had had little to no influence over his family. He had explained all the sordid details to her when she was a mere child; how his mother had died birthing him, and how his father and sister had subsequently loathed him. She had almost wept when he explained that his brother Jaime had been his only friend as a child.
Sighing roughly, Callen glanced at the thick tome on her shelf. The History of the Lannisters, from Lann the Clever to Queen Cersei, the First of her Name, and Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer who had thoroughly repented for his sins in the Great War.
Callen thought about her dear friend, Daenys, the current Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and smiled. It had been several moons since she had seen her friend. Daenys, granddaughter of Daenerys Stormborn and Jon Targaryen, had been Callen's childhood friend and one of the few people who never scorned her for her family's reputation.
Daenys, named for her beloved ancestor, had been crowned queen at fifteen when her mother and father both succumbed to the sweating sickness that ravaged the capitol. Daenerys had truly made Westeros a better place after successfully winning the Great War against the Night King with her husband, Jon Targaryen, and overthrowing Cersei Lannisters misrule.
Daenerys and Jon had truly brought peace and prosperity to the realm after the last war. They had worked hard and tirelessly to make it so, and the dragons had ruled once again. Her grandfather had ruled has hand for five years before resigning the position to Missandei of Naath, and had chased after the woman he loved, the woman who had become Callen's grandmother. Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell and Jon Targaryen's cousin. They had split their time between the North and the West, governing both kingdoms fairly and justly. They had several children, Callen's father becoming Lord of the Rock after his father, and their second child, Catelyn, becoming the Lady of Winterfell after her mother. Now, though, Catelyn's daughter Lyanna was ruling Winterfell.
Callen new her history. Grandfather Tyrion and her grandmother had told her all about it as a child; she had learned a lot at her grandparents knees and from her mother and father. But she oftentimes found herself wondering how different her life would have been if Cersei Lannister hadn't run the family name and the country into the ground.
Would Callen be trusted to take a husband and have children? Would her brother and she be free to be as close as they wanted without suspicious glances thrown their way?
Jeremy had forfeited his right to rule Casterly Rock years ago. He had married well and was the current King Consort to Daenys, who had fallen for her brothers charm; Jeremy took after their grandmother with strawberry-blond locks and sea-blue eyes. Daenys had been hardpressed not fall for him. But even with her brother on the other side of the country, Callen was still not trusted.
I wish I could go back and ensure Cersei never destroyed the country with her incestuous offspring and bitterness. If I had been her, I would have made peace with Robert Baratheon and ensured that our marriage was a powerhouse and not a joke. I would ensure that the realm was prepared for the second Long Night; that the throne was ripe for Daenerys and Jon to reclaim.
Sighing once again, tiredly, Callen exited her office and made her way to her rooms down the hall, beyond exhausted. It was late, and she needed her rest if she was to go through betrothal offers. So she stripped from her dress and climbed into bed, wondering what the next day would bring.
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Callen woke slowly, fighting the fog of sleep rather reluctantly. She blinked her green eyes open and stared at the sun slanting through her bedroom window, listening to the waves crash against the shore and birds chip and sing the day awake. Huffing, she threw back her bedcovers and rose for the day.
Padding over to her dressing table, she sat before the mirror and froze as she caught sight of her reflection, eyes wide and utterly stunned.
Callen remembered the first time her grandfather had deigned to show her the last remaining portrait of her grandaunt Cersei. It had been painted when Cersei was ten and three, and even then the young girl had perfected her signature look of haughty disdain.
It was that same face staring back at Callen now, though older, and she slowly reached up to touch her face. The reflection did the same. She pinched her cheeks, and her mirror image copied her. She smiled, flashing perfectly white, straight teeth.
Callen stood abruptly and raced to the balcony, throwing the doors open almost violently. She braced herself against the railing, breast heaving, and stared in astonishment at the courtyard below; men donned in red cloaks and Lannister armour bustled about, and servants scurried to and fro busily. She jolted as her door opened, and she whirled, eyes blowing wide.
"Can you tell me about your father, grandfather?" Ten year old Callen begged Tyrion, who sighed.
"He was cold and cruel, my dear girl," her grandfather had answered, looking pained.
The selfsame man now stood before Callen, face drawn severely. She forced herself to school her face into neutrality and clasped her hands in front of her stomach, feeling beyond wrongfooted and alarmed at what was going on. It had to be a dream, she rationalized, but why did it feel so real?
"Cersei," Tywin Lannister greeted, voice deep yet chilly, "The army and I ride at dawn tomorrow, as you are aware, and I am leaving you in charge. I hope you will not disappoint me,"
Callen gulped. He called her Cersei. Was she Cersei? What in the gods name was going on? She forced herself to nod, "Yes, father," she murmured softly, clenching her hands hard when even her voice came out differently.
Tywin eyed her closely, "Good. Once we have taken the city, I will send for you,"
Oh, my gods. I'll be marrying Robert Baratheon. Please, let this be an awful dream - no, wait, Callen thought to herself, what if it is no dream, and the gods heard my words the previous night and have granted me a chance to do over Cersei's mistakes?
"Of course, father," Callen replied, watching as Tywin nodded sharply and left the room. Once he was gone, she collapsed on her bed and stared at her hands. A strangers hands.
Wait, army? Oh, my gods, it's near the end of the rebellion. That means that Rhaegar is dead, Lyanna is undoubtedly giving birth to Jon Targaryen right now, and soon enough Daenerys will be born and oh, by the Seven...
Cersei stood and glanced wildly around her rooms, hands sweating and chest heaving. She had to dress, firstly. She leaned into the hall and blinked at a somewhat familiar guard by her door. "Send for my handmaidens, please." She ignored the man's startled look and retreated back into her rooms, chewing her lip.
Cersei wed Robert shortly after the rebellion, Callen knew that much. So that meant she was currently eight and seven, and would soon become Queen of The Seven Kingdoms.
Callen had never really struggled with the knowledge that magic was real. Her closest friend had been Daenys Targaryen, and the Queen had been a proud dragonrider. She had also conferred with Bran Stark, the Three Eyed Crow that lived on the Isle of Faces. She knew magic existed; she knew the gods were real. How could she not?
But whom, if anyone, had sent her back in time decades and into Cersei Lannisters body? Why?
Callen knew that she had a monumental task before her. She had to bewitch and manipulate Robert into being a somewhat good king, she had to blindside Tywin bloody Lannister, had to nip the relations between Jaime and Cersei in the bud, and fix the relationship Cersei had with Tyrion - her grandfather. Would he believe her? He'd always been more than open minded. It's why he'd put so much faith in Daenerys when others had expected her to be just like her father, Mad Aerys.
Callen - no, Cersei, I must get used to my new name – stood as two handmaidens entered her rooms and curtseyed. She set her jaw and nodded.
Let the game begin.