Oh, Brother...

Cersei hadn't even dreamt of Myrcella being shipped away to Dorne, so out of the blue. It was a peaceful, blissful day at King's Landing. Her whoring husband had died by a boar. She loved watching him die fat and jobless on the bed they tried making love on so, so many times.

The same bed that she had used to produce three of her dead children. Maybe four. She had no recollection of the unborn child. Perhaps, her memory was her greatest weakness.

The same unborn child, who was meant to be Robert's, was discovered earlier by The Red Woman from Essos. Her fiery red hair had granted her access to every and any place in Westeros. After all, she had slept with Robert Baratheon only once to win his heart and give her permission to enter any building in Westeros.

That was a few years ago.

Cersei Lannister had been bedded by Robert Baratheon a while ago. A product of their ceremony that night was a black mass of vengeance, born out of the feelings Cersei harboured towards her King husband.

You see, she had just discovered Tyrion had slept with a young meat from Littlefinger's house of maidens. Apparently, the whore was so good that Tyrion couldn't stop laughing and bragging about how much she'd make him quake and quiver with pleasure, right over their family dinner table. Cersei listened to it all. She heard Robert laugh, saw him lick his lips.

That same night, enchanted by this mysterious young maiden Tyrion was so fascinated by, Robert slept with Cersei. Her moans were an act of distraction. She was in so much pain under his weight. Yet, she took him the whole night. Heard him grunt, roar and fill her every moment.

Then, Robert's curiosity got the best of him. He summoned the same lady Tyrion had talked about and pulled her clothes away, right in front of Cersei's naked, sweaty body on their bed. Cersei felt a wave of shame she couldn't even explain. With what dignity was left of her, she left.

However, Robert had used the same bodily fluids on the young whore. Pumped her in and out until crack of dawn. He sighed and roared in satisfaction. Never knowing what he had even done, mixing all their fluids into this stranger.

Days passed. The Red Woman was on the premises, watching and hearing everything, every night. Cersei was being bed almost every day like a succubus had bitten Robert hard on his heart. He just could not stop sleeping with his wife at all.

Sixteen days after the last maiden he had slept with besides his wife, Robert finally grew bored of Cersei. The golden-haired woman was finally relieved. She had been feeling sick. Incredibly sick, in mind and body. She did not know how to feel about this condition, and she did not trust any of the healers in the palace either. King's Landing was not her place at all.

So she travelled East. The land of power, bravery and magic. She ought to find a healer there, but she met with a man so vile, she almost gave up.

He tried to reign over her in strength and yearning. He claimed he knew her since the beginning of time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!" She yelled on the lonely grasslands. She regretted not bringing the royal guards with her, deeply.

Just as her clothes were about to be torn off, a small man's small blade drove into the mad man's shoulder. He turned around in pain and bled, only to see a bloodshot, clearly drunk Tyrion standing over the fallen man. The blade was swiftly dug into the madman's left chest. Cersei was shocked. Well, shocked was an understatement, even.

"Tyrion...you...you used a blade, for my sake?" Cersei asked, shaky voice and tears flowing freely. Smelling like a labourer, Tyrion offered her to stand up. Or at least, sit upright.

Her mind was all over the place. She could not fathom how downtrodden the other gender of the same species were. Driven by lust and rage...she hated men from then on. Or perhaps, she had always hated men after watching how her father treated the other gender like they were kings without lands.

Wiping the last drop of tears, Cersei stood to ask her little brother, "What are you doing here?"

Tyrion read her tone, nasty as always, only towards him. He brushed it off, as always, and replied, "Not by the whims of you, sister. I am here on a mission. I have a word to give to someone."

"Did Robert send you?"

"Nope." Tyrion gave his half-held smile, infamous as it could get, "I am on my own, always, sister. Although, I must mention—"

"Keep your talk to yourself, brother. I have barely any interest. I need to head home."

"Hmm...funny someone would travel all the way to Essos just to go home. Are you...still mad at your brother, Cersei?" Tyrion asked his sister, finally relieved from the heavy head of the litres of wine he's been consuming.

"Which brother?" Cersei asked with her back turned for him to gaze. Tyrion chuckled gravely.

"You know you won't Jamie no matter what he does. Cersei...I did not try to fix that cloth in Tommen's little mouth. He is just a child, Cersei. Someone has blamed me for it—"

"Enough words, Tyrion. While I am gone, tell Robert I had been to the south of Westeros and not Essos." She said.

"And why would I say that?" Now that made her turn back around. Her silence sparked too many questions in Tyrion's head.

"Why are you here, Cersei? This is the land of magic, father taight us not to even think about Essos. So, what brings you here?"

Her silence was an answer to his questions. Her eyes never lifted to gaze at him. She couldn't look at him.

However...very suddenly, a sharp pain cut through her like a thousand dragonstone blades deep under her abdomen. It was like a creature was trying to shred her inside out.

She collapsed, screams not even forming in her very mouth. Tyrion sobered up faster than he ever could. The dark abyss of the grasslands with a corpse by their foot, Tyrion did not know what to do. Nor was he experienced much as a midwife. No, he knew it was pregnancy-related. Was that why she came to Essos? He thought.

While she cried silently, digging her nails into her own stomach to diminish the pain from within, Cersei had a very, very faint sensation of something flowing out of her core. Liquidy, slimy, a little over one litre in volume.

Tyrion begged for Cersei to not close her eyes. No matter what. He ran as fast as he could, found a rag of jute and leather and brought it back to her.

"I- I'm going to use this as a sledge. Hold on for Jaime, Cersei. Hold on!" He yelled, tying the woman to the makeshift sledge.

It rained. The clear skies suddenly cracked, infuriating Tyrion with Essos even more. I SHOULD NOT HAVE COME! He screeched at himself. But if he didn't, his sister would have lost dignity and perhaps her life, too.

Alas, the rain had soaked the trail of the slime Cersei's womb had fully ejected. Tyrion thought it was her blood, but it was so much worse...

And the Red Woman? She was right there, lurking as the corpse that Tyrion stabbed and shapeshifted into her iconic red-haired woman.

She collected every last drop of that liquid Cersei gave, the black, petroleum-textured thing carefully skimmed and filled to the brim in The Red Woman's human leather pouch.