I own none of the rights to anything from either the Type-moon universe or Game of Thrones one. The work you are about to read is original, but heavily influenced by the wonderful and countless works of fiction on this website.

This is my first fanfiction after years of lurking, and I am trying to be a better writer, so please don't be shy and give me some feedback! Observations about pacing, prose and style would be much appreciated.

The journey to the witch's abode meandered off the faint trail that hugged the border of the forests surrounding Lannisport. It was arduous, and it occurred to Cersei that just because she had heard rumours of such a being living in the forest didn't mean that there was any guarantee that they would find her.

But to turn back now would be to show weakness, that she was wrong.

Cersei Lannister was never wrong.

The other two girls of her impromptu party were already huffing lightly from the exertion, not having dressed sensibly for traipsing through the undergrowth. Jeyne Farman and Melara Hetherspoon were sheep as far as Cersei was concerned, useful sheep, but only good as followers nonetheless. Still, she was ever so slightly comforted that they were here beside her, as the forest grew denser with every passing step.

She was not afraid.

She repeated that thought like a mantra. Not fright then- possibly excitement? As the daughter of the formidable Warden of the West Tywin Lannister, she was well aware of her station in life. A powerful political asset, she was to be married off to whomever her father pleased. As such, before such a thing would take place, she wanted to ensure that her future was one that lay in concordance with her expectations, and not one of misery and unhappiness.

Not that the thought of marriage disgusted her- her thought flickered briefly to the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, with his elegant features, silver hair and deep soulful amethyst eyes. Having seen him at court on previous occasions, she could not help agree with the giggling and whispers of the small folk of how he was as homely as they came.

But Jaime though…

"I… I think I see it."

Her thoughts about her brother were interrupted by the hesitant call out by Melara. Indeed, ahead in the shadow of the surrounding trees, a ramshackle hut sat in a small clearing.

"Are.. are those animal bones?" gasped Jeyne shrilly, her already pale complexion whitening even further.

Crude totems of feathers, bone and wood decorated the outside of the hut, and the frightened girl muttered some apology to Cersei of being unwilling to continue this adventure.

Cersei paid her no mind. She wanted, no needed to know what the future had in hold for her, and how she could best plan for it. Striding with determination ahead, with Melara hesitantly following behind her, she strode forth.

Cersei grimaced as the twisted horrible thing the witch called a knife cut deeply into the silken pad of her thumb. Dark red blood welled up from the cut, and she resisted the urge to pull away and tend to the wound. Crying was for lesser folk, and as a lion of house Lannister, she merely set her mouth in a grimace.

The wizened old hag met her defiant eyes, something that could be called respect glimmering within. Afterall, when compared to her companion, Cersei cut a striking figure. 13 years old, well into the bloom of womanhood, she was already a great beauty, but also one of strong character, as she stood there, clad in crimson, the same crimson that now carelessly dripped onto the dirt floor from within her tightly clenched fists, demanding answers.

It was always the same with this lot, Maggy mused. Despite her many talents, her poultices and deep bushlore, all the young and ambitious wanted most from her were portents of their future. Rarely however were they pleased by what Maggy said, and it was for this that Maggy had denied everyone who had come to her. That is, until this young Lioness, for Lannisters were not to be denied lightly.

Turning her back on the pair of girls, she cast her eyes over her messy abode. Herbs hung out from the rafters, vials of potions brewed during auspicious nights, rusting cauldrons, baubles and trinkets… her eyes lingered over possibly her most valuable possession, a sword rusted beyond repair but with an ornate hilt of azure and faded gold. She would have to remember to conceal it somewhere better, for she had found it whilst scouring one of the ruins that littered the seven kingdoms, and the next time she had unwanted visitors it may catch their eyes, and this was one trinket that was not for sale.

There. She lifted the copper brazier, and lit it with experienced ease before shaking off the blood into the flames with a single deft movement. The flames crackled and briefly turned red.

"You have three questions. No more, so choose your words wisely young'un" she announced to her guests.

"When will I wed the Prince?" Cersei uttered, with the surety of one who had already decided that yes, marrying the Prince was already a bygone conclusion, and only the date would matter. She was therefore taken aback when the hag snorted with amusement.

"Never. You will wed the King."

Her mind raced, before coming to the conclusion that a King was better than a Prince. The Prince's father was after all not a picture of good health, and Cersei had eavesdropped and heard whispers that his mental state was deteriorating. He clearly was not long for this world. Another thought occurred to her.

"I will be Queen though?"

"Aye. Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear" replied the hag.

She frowned. She was young and her beauty was already talked about through the seven kingdoms, with suitors petitioning her father daily. So to think that there was a possible rival in her future… not that it mattered. After all, this was the very knowledge she had come to seek, and now that she knew it was a possibility, she would be able to take steps to remove such a person in the future. As for her future husband…

"Will the King and I have children?"

Again, the hag snorted in amusement, and Cersei struggled to suppress the rage that bloomed in her chest, at receiving such insolence and disrespect from so lowly a woman. It was lucky for her that she was needed for now, else she would have struck her, and come back later with her guards to tear her wizened tongue out from her mouth.

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands around about your pale white throat and choke the light out of you."

Cersei reacted as if she had been struck. Whilst she was never the most studious of children, as a member of house Lannister her education had been board, ranging from sewing, dancing, horse riding and languages- including high Valyrian.

Valonqar. I knew it. That foul little wretched beast!

She envisioned Tyrion wrapping his stubby hands to choke her, and the image sickened her with both disgust and revulsion. However, she was also elated to picture the reverse, as well as the satisfaction that her feelings about the little monster were right. It, for she refused to consider that thing a brother, would have to die. Jaime would have to be convinced of course, but…

"Last question, little lioness. Hurry before the fire fades. Wouldn't want to cut your pretty skin a second time."

"My brother. Jaime. He is my most precious person. Will he always lov-"

She glanced quickly to her side. Luckily, Melara had not noticed her misstep, but non the less she rephrased the question. After the last time father had caught the two of them experimenting in Jaime's bedroom, it would not do to not be careful about her closer than appropriate relationship with her brother. She rephrased the question.

"Will my brother Jaime always be by my side?"

At this, the hag gave out a deafening cackle, full of malice and satisfaction.

"Your poor fool of a brother Jaime. Yes, he is already yours, poisoned by your wiles. There will be times where he will get away, but like a dog leashed to it's master, you will always drag him back into your den. He will be with you until the end, and the last thing your see in this world will be his face, eyes glaring with hatred and murderous intent at the cause of his misery."

Melara was a pretty girl, with long auburn hair and a cute freckled face. Many would consider her somewhat of a dreamer, but also one of a somewhat vapid nature. She was one to always explore and go on adventures, imagining encounters with handsome knights, and ferocious monsters, and thus was elated when Cersei suggested on visiting a wood witch.

She was regretting that decision now. Melara might have been not fully paying attention, having been distracted by the wonderful assortment of trinkets and baubles that decorated the witch's tent, but even she sensed that the situation had changed. Cersei had always been irrationally angry about anything that would come between Jamie and her, and for the Witch to say that such a thing would come to pass…

Cersei sat stone faced for a moment, absorbing the information. Then her still visage shattered and with a great yowl, she launched herself at the witch, intent on putting an end to the cackling permanently. Melara gave a cry as the brazier fell over, and almost immediately the flames sprang up the the wooden walls, hungrily climbing and spreading.

The witch gave a shocked gasp, and attempted to defend herself but she was old and wizened, and Cersei was young, strong and filled with burning rage and indignation.

How dare she! Jaime and I are meant to be together. I love him and he will always love me!

She took a quick scan of the room. Grabbing onto the ornate sword, she brought it crashing down inexpertly on the blaspheming witch's huddled form. Even rusted, and wielded by one who had never picked up a sword before this day, the sword cut deep.

The witch gave an agonising cry, her hands raised and begging for mercy but it was not meant to be. Rusted metal split the old woman like a fleshy carcass, and great gouts of burgundy blood splattered everywhere. Cersei hacked away like a woman possessed, and as the blade drank deep of the wood witch's magical blood, thin as it was, something awoke within the sword.

ERROR

CURRENT WIELDER IS NOT WORTHY.

SWORD DESIGNATION CALIBURN

STATUS: WIELDER NOT SELECTED

ONLY ONE SELECTED CAN WIELD CALIBURN

PROPOSED SOLUTION: REPLACE WIELDER WITH CHOSEN ONE

IMPLEMENTING

Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights, the once and future King, and more recently the one designated as Saber, sighed. Once again, the thought flickered across her mind that she should have not been so quick to offer her services as a heroic spirit to the world after the disaster that was the battle of Camlann.

Here, in the mini world that was her refuge and prison whenever she was not summoned, there was nothing to do. Sure, it was picturesque up here on a lonely knoll, overseeing the vast green fields, but such a sight would get old over the countless years she had spent in here.

No one to converse with. Nothing to eat. It was a lonely existence.

If only Shirou was here.

A melancholic smile graced the face of Artoria.

Shirou Emiya. I'm glad to have met you. I… I wish there was a way to see you again

He had confessed to her in the closing days of the mess that was the Grail War, and she, against all reason and thoughts of duty and propriety, had felt the same way. Alas, their relationship was limited, and as ferocious and passionate as it was, it was now a moot point. Separated by time, dimensions and God knows what else, it was a tragic romance that was never meant to be.

She felt a little better. Memories of Shirou's wonderful cooking, of nights spent watching over him, fighting beside him, and of sliding skin and blazing golden eyes… She flushed, as if chastising herself for dwelling of happy memories.

Even so, what is this feeling? I feel like I'm floating.

She shuddered with a jolt. Something had changed, in the never changing fields of this dimensional bubble. She gave a small exclamation of surprise as she somehow suddenly became to float. Too little time had passed for her to be summoned again, and there was no command from the World for her to fulfil her duties.

LOCATED. THE SWORD OF SELECTION CALLS TO YOU

"Caliburn? How? What is going on?"

The feeling in her chest was almost painful now, and with one last cry of surprise, Saber was pulled into the unknown.