She Who Wants for Nothing
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Cersei Lannister x Platonic! Lady Clegane! Reader
CONTENT: Lady Clegane would def be murdered if her husband didn't kill everyone else first, someone finally keeps the Clegane brothers in check (seriously, don't let them near each other without her), the Court thinks she's either a witch or Robert's mistress (she's a secret third thing), implied ... things (don't @ me the protein content is apparently insanely high), Gregor-related implied incidents of violence, Cersei has genuinely no idea how to handle someone who just ... doesn't care
Here is the MASTERPOST
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Based off the idea that Lady Clegane and Cersei would be best friends because:
They're both shagging men they can't talk about (fun girly bonding activity)
Cersei cannot handle someone who doesn't want to use her name and titles
She is a Lannister and then she is queen. Her whole life is people below her trying to elevate their status. Lady Clegane has an 8 foot tall husband who even the best soldiers have physically run away from. Case closed.
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There comes a day, a day long after Cersei is a naïve little queen who believed she could change what her king was in any way, when a new lady appears in court. Not noble by any means, not with lion’s blood or veins decorated with thorns. Just a lady. Who spoke riverspeak and showed Littlefinger two fingers and was called upon frequently for tasks Robert would never share.
Cersei thought, naturally, it was a new mistress. A new whore given a pretty patch of land somewhere sweet, as long as she promised not to make any bastards of hers known to the king.
And one day, at a joust, the Mountain has drawn his sword and is terribly close to beheading another horse. The Hound has stepped in, they are battling with nothing but their fists, and just as Gregor is to strike his brother -
“Boys!”
It is one word, and it carries across the entirety of the Kingdoms.
You huff, you raise yourself from your seat, brush your skirts, and grasp Sandor - For he is the one in only his mail - By the arm. You drag him off, Gregor follows. It is silent, apart from your voice.
“Can’t have anything in this fucking city - You two acting up like children! We have little reputation as it is, without you two behaving worse than two dogs after the same bitch - I am talking, Gregor! - Don’t ever make me get in between you again, I will kill you both - You know what you did. Yes you do.”
Suddenly, you are quite interesting. You are no mistress, at least, not to the king. Whether you are a mistress of black magic is another debate. She has never seen the Mountain be dragged from anywhere, and you do it without even touching him.
And she is sitting with her ladies directly afterwards, and there are no prizes for guessing exactly what is discussed. Not the pretty knights, not who received favours. Just one, very loud-mouthed, chubby little lady who has just appeared from the Riverlands.
“I heard she’s a witch!”
“I heard she’s one of those Old believers. Maybe they sent her here to punish us for not having their faith.”
“Did you see her drag them away? She has to be mad. Madder than the old king. No-one does that if they want to keep their head.”
And they all titter at that. Cersei is already annoyed by their presence.
“And did you hear what she said? No respectable lady talks like that to a dog, let alone the actual Hound.”
The king is announced, and it suddenly goes quiet again. He walks in with you beside him, of course. Cersei has the feeling you are going to appear more and more frequently. Robert is laughing, at least.
“Tell them, tell them what you just told me.”
And you smile like you are pretending to be coy,
“Only, your Grace, that I saw a cunt, so I said cunt.”
The king roars with laughter.
“I like you, you’re good. Too many of these twats spend all their time flittering about like birds when a storm comes. Come and sit up with the ladies.”
“Your Majesty, as much as I appreciate this offer, I cannot without the queen’s permission. They are her ladies.”
Cersei has never been asked for grace in her entire life. She sits back, she looks at you, and she gives one nod. The other ladies slide to the end of the bench, you are left beside the queen. She looks over immediately.
“Who are you?”
And you tell her only your first name. The other ladies giggle, she glares at them.
“I meant your House.”
“My father holds Oldstones, on the Blue Fork … That’s in the Riverlands.”
“And your husband?” You smile like a maid who has married the butcher, like a woman who is happy and in love. Not like a lady. Cersei has never smiled like that for Robert.
“Oh! My husband is Ser Gregor.”
You do not say the surname. You do not need to say the name. There are many men who are sers and who are called Gregor; There is one Ser Gregor. Cersei gives a tight-lipped smile.
“Interesting … And do you find your match suitable?”
“I do. He has a big co - I mean, a big Keep. Clegane Keep is bigger than the inhabitable parts of the Oldstones.”
“I’m sure it is.”
Cersei knows nothing about the Oldstones apart from the folk songs. There are things she still has to know about a woman married to the Mountain.
“Have you children?”
“Yes, I have two sons. One is almost three, and one is turning two in a moon.”
“Close together … The princess is four. They are sweet at that age. Are they with the nursemaids?”
“No… My mother and my old septa have come to care for them, just whilst I … Make some friends in court. Riverwomen raise their own babies. Well, we do - I don’t think the Tullys would.”
That is unusual. She has never heard of a noblewoman taking her grandchildren on like a nurse. She takes from her wine.
“Next you will tell me you feed them yourself.”
“Well - They’re both a touch too old for that. But I did, before they grew teeth.”
“How … Rustic.”
You have no shame. You lean in.
“Gregor wanted me to keep going.”
And this is the most interesting thing she has been told all week. And she is completely entranced.
“He did?”
“Oh, yes. A man gets a taste for these things.”
“A sensible lady wouldn’t share such information so freely.”
“Eh. Plenty a man does. It’s not unheard of. Besides, I have far better secrets than that, your Grace.”
Cersei, for once, does not doubt that you do.
And three weeks later you are lying on the other bench in her chambers, staring up at the ceiling. You come to her every morning and leave her every evening, you lift up your two sons and walk with her around the gardens with a princess and come to see a newborn draped in more finery than you will ever own. Tommen will be her last child, she tells you.
There are things not spoken. You never refer to Robert when you talk about her children’s father, she never discusses Gregor beyond what you tell her. She thinks you might be asleep, she calls your name.
“Yes, your Grace?”
“Why don’t you care?”
You turn onto your side and look up at her.
“Because - When I married Gregor and we went back to the Westerlands, he lifted me onto our dining room table and told me … and I quote … he would bash in the skull of anyone that ever crossed me and choke him with his own guts.”
“Eugh…”
“It’d be more disgusting if I didn’t believe it was true. Some women have husbands who bring them flowers and puppy dogs … Mine would bring me a man’s intestinal tract.”
“At least he brings you gifts.”
You smile in a way she has learned means you are showing pity.
“Would you really rather be married to that monster than a queen?”
“You seem to be managing just fine.”
“A man like Gregor is kept only by very specific types of women. You are best suited for court life, your Grace.”
And she says your name again, and you look over.
“I want you to call me Cersei. In private. Here.”
“Of course.”
She has never had a friend who has not wanted something from her. She has been passed from lion to stag. And now she sits opposite one who climbs mountains and uses language unbecoming of any other lady at a joust.
Because a queen has no power against she who wants for nothing.