Death of a Flower

Aveline's mother hadn't left her bedside in days.

Cersei's long, beautiful hair that was usually pulled into intricate braids or twisted into some time consuming style had long since fallen to hang limply around her shoulders and down her back in dull, lifeless waves. It no longer resembled molten gold, instead it looked to Aveline like faded hay, left in the sun too long to rot.

It did not suit her, Aveline thought sadly as she beheld her mother in her final moments. Before her was not was the image of Cersei Lannister, the strongest woman she'd ever known, but a woman living in the shadow of that name.

Her warm hand clutched Aveline's own, her long, slender fingers desperately trying to rub the warmth back into her daughter's own. She smoothed back Aveline's blonde hair with a gentle touch, her eyes holding more emotion that Aveline had ever seen in them, and it was then that Aveline came to terms with what was happening.

She was sick. She was dying.

She weren't scared of death, per se, only of the unknown of what happens after this life.

If the seven hells were real Aveline were sure she wouldn't go there. She wasn't like her younger brother, Joffrey - he would surely burn for the crimes he'd committed, even at such a young age.

No, Aveline believed she'd be welcomed into the seven heavens where her mother assured her that her grandmother would be waiting to welcome her. Aveline had wondered, in her delirious sleep, what Joanna Lannister looked like - she had to be beautiful for Tywin Lannister to marry her for love instead of politics.

It didn't matter, it wouldn't be long until they finally met, Aveline thought somberly.

A harsh coldness overtook her body, seeping down past her skin and laying to rest in her very bones. It seemed that no matter the amount of sunlight that streamed through the window by her bed, the heat of King's Landing could do nothing to warm her clammy skin.

Aveline's fingertips and lips had began to turn blue, and her shivering hadn't ceased for two nights.

"Are you in pain, my flower? I can call for the maester to bring you milk of the poppy." Cersei's hand brushed her cheek. "I do not wish for you to hurt."

Aveline blinked slowly, feeling so very tired. "No, Mother. I do not feel pain. I only feel exhausted."

Cersei's lips quivered. "I know you're tired, my love. But if you could just hold on a just a little while longer - we have Archmaester Ebrose coming from the citadel. He may be able to cure you."

"I don't want to," Aveline admitted quietly.

Aveline's broken whisper finally broke the dam that had built in her mother's eyes. Cersei flung herself onto the cot Aveline lay on.

He mother's heartbreaking cries echoed off the walls of her chambers. She laid her head down beside their entwined hands, her chest heaving with breaths that couldn't escape her fast enough, and finally she allowed herself to truly weep for her lost child. This wasn't right, Aveline thought as she watched the Lioness herself lay by her side and bawled.

Her mother was strong, she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - she wasn't this whimpering woman that lay before her now.

Shame burrowed itself deep in Aveline's chest, the guilt for reducing her mother to this sobbing heap clawed at her insides like a rabid animal. Aveline took a page from her mother's book and used what energy she had left to place her hand on the back of Cersei's head. She were too tired to stroke her mother's hair like she had done for Aveline, but she could still speak to her.

"It's alright now, Mother," Aveline whispered gently, a single tear escaped her eye and she made no move to wipe it away, conserving what energy she had left. "We've had a good life together, you and I. Please, tell my brothers and sister that I love them so very much. Will you do that for me?"

Cersei's raised her head and Aveline's hand fell limply back onto the cot beside her. Cersei grabbed it back greedily. "Of course I will, flower. And you know that they love you too."

"Of course I do," Aveline replied softly. "And Uncle Jaime," her eyes felt so heavy. "Tell him I'm glad he's my father. Tell him I'm glad I wasn't the product of a bitter old drunk."

"My first born," Cersei whimpered, standing over her bed. She pressed her forehead softly to Aveline's own, her tears falling from her cheeks and onto her daughter's face. "Always too smart for your own good."



Their oldest child went that night as the sun turned to moon. Cersei had sat with Aveline as the Archmaester searched her over, saying nothing as he left the room, no doubt going to speak with Jaime who stood just outside the chamber doors.

Cersei could hear their muffled voices through the door, but paid them no mind, instead she sat and stared at Aveline's beautiful face for as long as she could. She never wanted to forget a single feature. Aveline's pretty plump lips almost looked like she left the world smiling, just as she had always done - she was such a happy child.

Cersei knew behind those closed lids sat beautiful emerald green eyes that matched her own, and choked when she realized she'd never have the chance to look into them again. She'd never seen the happiness, the peacefulness, and the love that Aveline offered almost every person she'd ever met.

The door opened behind her, but Cersei made no move to turn. She knew it was her brother who'd entered the room.

Behind her Jaime stood as still as a statue, breathing through the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. It felt like the breath had been knocked from his lungs when he saw his daughter's lifeless body that cot. He licked his bottom lip and stepped forward slowly, watching his sister rub the girl's cold arm unconsciously.

"She's gone," Cersei whispered, her eyes never leaving her dead child. "My poor little flower is gone."

"Our little girl," he said sadly as he finally stood by Cersei's side. "Our princess."

Cersei, having long since cried the final tears her eyes would allow, bowed her head. "What has the Archmaester said?"

"Natural causes," Jaime said as he bowed by his daughter's bedside.

Cersei snorted angrily. "Natural causes? She's a child, Jaime. No child dies of natural causes."

Jaime's hand had found the back of Aveline's hand and he flinched from how cold she'd gone in just a few hours. "What else could it have been, my love? She's watched after day and night. She is loved by the common people, she-"

"She was loved by all but one," Cersei said dangerously low. "There was one person who had told me many times they wish she'd never been born."

Jaime's brow furrowed. He lifted his gaze from his daughter and onto his lover. "Are you implying what I think you are?"

"Joffrey wants a throne," Cersei whispered. "He desires it more than anything. You know that as well as I. Aveline was in the way, and now she's gone."

Jaime's spine felt like lead. It was plausible. The boy was more sadistic than most he'd met, save the Mad King. "What do you propose we do?"

Cersei inclined her head slightly. "We must bury our daughter," she said quietly. "And then try to save Joffrey from the fate he's brought upon himself."