Her ears filled with soft buzz made of words, laughter and music, Cersei Lannister absently pushed food around on her plate with a fork. The world was blurred beyond the veil of her own distracted thoughts; the emerald eyes of the young lady Lannister didn't see any of it, not the dancers, not the musicians, not her brother(s), not her father, not the King, not even the Crown prince (though she did see him in her mind's eye, for he was the one of the reasons for her distress). In her mind, she was still standing in Maggy's home (if anyone could call such a dump home), the witch's words echoing not only in her ears, but in her very soul.
"When will I wed the prince?"
"Never. You will wed the king."
Surely that could only mean she would wed Rhaegar after he became king, she mused. But why wait for so long? It could be years before King Aerys breathed his last and the Realm would need an heir to secure the line before that.
"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."
More beautiful? Was that not a proof that Maggy's words were naught but lies? Over the years, Cersei had been told more than once that no-one could match her beauty and that she would only grow to be even lovelier than she was now. How could there ever be a woman more beautiful than her?
And yet, the prince barely seems to notice me. She cast a quick glance at the object of her longing, but on her left, Rhaegar seemed just as lost in his thoughts as she was in hers. She doubted he had shown any more interest in her over the course of the evening than he did now. Does he not think me beautiful? Am I as ugly as Maggy the Frog in his eyes?
No, she couldn't be. She was beautiful, everyone told her that. Jaime had told her that and he never lied to her. But my prince does not see it. Does it mean that, in his eyes, there is someone more beautiful than I? A younger queen that will cast me down – unless I cast her down first.
What could she do to draw the prince's attention? If it she couldn't capture his heart through her beauty, what could she offer him so he would have to acknowledge her?
"Will the king and I have children?"
"Oh, aye. Three for you and six-and-ten for the person closest to your heart. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."
Valonqar – it meant 'little brother' in High Valyrian, the septa had told her.
She glanced at her right where her siblings were seated, torn between adoration and scorn. Jaime, her twin, her other half, and Tyrion, the monster who had taken her mother from her. Jaime was whispering conspiringly into Tyrion's ear, making the three-year-old giggle. Cersei tore her eyes away from her brothers immediately, unable to stand the joy on that ugly little face. It made her hands clench into fists (though she unclenched them just as quickly, because showing anger wasn't befitting of a lady). Not even Jaime's handsome face (the reflection of her own) was enough of a temptation to bear seeing the little monster in her line of vision. There was no doubt in her mind who was supposed to play the part of the valonqar from Maggy's words.
But how could she know if the prophecy was even true? How could she have three children and Rhaegar six-and-ten? It made no sense. Unless he followed in the steps of Aegon the Unworthy and sired bastards all over the Seven Kingdoms.
(She would not stand for this, ever. Either he would be hers and hers alone––or no-one's.)
But, she thought as she stole another glance at the Crown prince, he simply didn't seem like a man who sought pleasure from any woman deemed attractive enough. There were pretty girls of his own age in the hall too, but he paid no attention to any of them. She hadn't a heard a single gossip about any lady taking his fancy that might indicate he was familiar with having affairs. Therefore, she was safe to assume that he wouldn't show such disrespect to a wife who would give him three children – and that Maggy's words truly were just lies the witch had told her to spite her.
But Melara died (she fell – fell). Cersei couldn't ignore that…coincidence. Just like the witch had said she would.
(It served her right, though, for desiring things that belong to me.)
These thoughts were again giving her a headache. She had told herself none of it could come to pass if she just forgot about it, but she couldn't remove the prophecy from her mind no matter how hard she tried. It refused to slip from her thoughts like sand through fingers (or like memories of Mother, whose face and scent and gentleness and love now she could barely summon to memory), stubbornly clinging onto the edge of her consciousness every moment of every day. Not even watching the Prince joust, his long white hair floating about weightlessly as he rode into victory against his opponents (except for Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning) had managed to silence the voice inside her mind that told her it was all true and there was nothing she could do to prevent it from happening.
An idea crossed her mind, her last hope of restoring peace within her soul, if only for a few brief minutes. Perhaps if Rhaegar agreed to play his harp for her…
"My prince?" She turned to him directly for the first time that evening, urging her treacherous heart not to betray her. It couldn't beat faster even if she were facing an actual dragon instead of the dragon prince.
A few moments that passed as she waited for those stunning violet eyes to meet hers felt like a lifetime to Cersei. Their colour was nearly indescribable, not quite flowers of rosemary, not quite pearls. Dressed in black and red, the colours of his House, he looked so regal and composed, as if he had expected her to address him. His expression was impossible for her to read; in that moment, it cost her her nerve and she couldn't even remember what she had intended to say to him.
"Yes, my lady?" He asked indulgently after a few moments of silence, but she could find no trace of true interest in his eyes.
Still, she couldn't turn out ridiculous in front of him by saying nothing. She had to say something – anything.
"Do you…" Say something, or he'll think you stupid.
"Do you believe in prophecies?" She blurted out in one breath.
Instantly, it was as if the world shattered like glass; every piece shifted for a heartbeat and then fell back into place, only the pieces didn't fit quite as before. Cersei found herself the object of the Prince's undivided attention, his gaze as intense as she had ever seen it.
"What do you know of prophecies?" In his desire for an answer, he had unknowingly placed his hand on her forearm, as if to prevent her from escaping before she provided one. "My lady?" He added after a moment, more as an afterthought.
Cersei could barely wrap her head around the fact he was showing no intention of ridiculing her. Her own father would have scoffed at such question and told her to keep her childish fantasies to herself, but Rhaegar was actually taking her seriously.
"I…" She cleared her throat; the intensity of his gaze was unnerving. "A woman once told me things – what she claimed would happen to me in the future."
Still convinced he would start laughing at her at any moment, she was surprised to see him lean closer to her, so they wouldn't be overheard by Cersei's brothers, or their fathers, who were sitting on Rhaegar's left.
"Who is this woman?" He whispered into her ear, his breath brushing her skin. Cersei couldn't help herself but shiver, for more reasons than one.
She knew better than to lie to the prince, but how could she tell him she had gone to see the witch to find out whether she would be married to him? She wouldn't be able to bear looking him in the eyes after that.
"A woman in the market in Lannisport." She followed suite and leaned closer so she could whisper into his ear. It was triply beneficial, for she got to speak with him in confidence, hide the lie that might be seen in her features and breathe in his sweet, delicious scent. "I only saw her that one time. I don't know her name."
He remained silent for a moment, as if thinking about how such obstacle could be overcome, but then he turned to her again.
"What did she tell you?"
She breathed in deeply; how much should she tell him?
"She said I would have three children." For a moment, the violet eyes flashed gold, but the spark was gone so soon Cersei wasn't sure if she had imagined it. "'Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.'" She quoted the part that had been plaguing her the most, her voice growing quieter with each word.
For a moment, Rhaegar's eyes separated from hers and glanced briefly at something behind her back.
"Valonqar." His gaze returned to her face. "Do you know what it means?"
"'Little brother'." She answered eagerly, hoping to impress him with her knowledge.
He nodded solemnly, without any remark on her knowledge of High Valyrian. She was disappointed with his lack of praise, but set her frustration aside when he once again glanced at her brothers.
"Jaime would never…" She started to explain before the prince could utter a word, eager to defend her twin, but her voice drifted off into silence. Just saying Jaime would hurt her felt like she was choking. It just wasn't possible Jaime was the valonqar from the prophecy.
Judging by his knowing gaze, Rhaegar didn't miss her defending Jaime, but not Tyrion.
"Do you believe this prophecy to be true, my lady?" He asked. "Do you believe any of your brothers would ever do you harm?"
Tyrion killed Mother. Why wouldn't he one day decide to kill me as well?
"If I've learned anything about prophecies," Rhaegar said after a few moments had passed without her answer. His tone was strangely soothing, as if he was trying to comfort her, "It's that they rarely come true in the manner we expect them to. From what I gather, the woman didn't say it was your little brother who would…"
The silence fell on them so abruptly it startled Cersei. His hand, which had been resting on her forearm nearly for the entirety of their conversation (and she hadn't even had the chance to enjoy his touch properly, so engrossed in the subject they'd been discussing), gently slid down the sleeve of her crimson dress and grasped hers.
"Forgive me." His fingers intertwined with hers tenderly, making her heart flutter inside her chest. "I didn't intend to frighten you."
I am a lioness. Lions fear nothing. She wanted to say, but didn't. The feeling of her hand in his was too pleasant to risk losing it over her pride. But the cold dread the prophecy caused within her cut through the warm feeling of the prince's touch like an arrow through air, swiftly robbing her of the sweet bliss.
"So, you're saying…" She hesitated briefly, the meaning of his words starting to weigh heavily on her shoulders, "That any little brother in the world could be the valonqar from the prophecy?"
"Any little brother and sister." He corrected her in a lecturing tone, like a tutor would. "There is no distinguishing between male and female in High Valyrian. For example…"
He must have noticed her horrified expression, for he fell silent again, leaving the lesson in High Valyrian unsaid. Cersei felt her heart thundering, blood growing cold in her veins. Her hand was shaking in Rhaegar's; despite knowing she was appearing weak in front of him, she couldn't hide her fear.
"Forgive me." She heard him say again. He never actually apologized, she noticed, only demanded forgiveness. Of course he does not ask for forgiveness, you silly girl, he's a prince. Nobody can deny him anything. "I've only scared you even more."
Yes. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to pull herself together, but failing. It could be anyone – anyone! There are so many younger siblings! But why? Why me? Why have I done? I don't want to die, I don't want to die!
The anxiety she was feeling made her physically ill; she couldn't bear even the sight of food, lest she threw up on the prince.
"If you'll excuse me, my prince." She got to her feet urgently, grabbing the crimson skirts embroidered with gold without a glance at the prince or her brothers or her father.
In a matter of seconds, she had left the great hall and was rushing towards her chambers, almost stumbling over the edge of her dress a couple of times. She heard voices calling after her, like ghosts that were haunting her, but the words were indistinguishable, lost beneath the clicking of her heels as she ran. When she finally reached her chamber, she slammed the door shut behind her, cutting off the voices. She ran to her bed and threw herself on it, not caring that she might accidentally rip the satin dress. She pressed a pillow against her belly, as if it might shield her from invisible daggers she felt were stabbing at her from all sides, and finally allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.
I don't want to die, I don't want to die! Not like Mother did! Voices screamed inside her mind in fear and anger and desperation. I want to be with Jaime! I want to marry Rhaegar! I want to be the Queen! I don't want to die!
"Cersei!" Jaime's voice came from the other side of the door, along with thudding that suggested he was trying to tear her door down with his fists. He sounded breathless; she had no doubt that he had run after her the moment she had left the great hall. "Cersei, what's wrong?"
"Go away!" She screamed back, not wanting anyone, not even him, to see her in this state. "I don't want to see anyone!"
Her rejection didn't discourage him. "Cersei, please, let me…"
"No!" She cut him off sharply. "Leave me be!"
She thought he would ignore her and burst into her room without her permission (even though he had never done that before). Part of her wanted him to do it, wanted him to come in and wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be alright because he would never let anything happen to her. He would protect her with his life, destroy everyone who would try to harm her – she didn't doubt that.
He was not the valonqar.
"Cersei," He called out gently, but even with the door between them, she heard every word clearly. "Just tell me you're alright and I'll leave you be."
The answer – the lie – was stuck in her throat.
She was not alright. She might never be again, knowing there was someone out there who would one day come seeking her death.
But she couldn't tell Jaime what troubled her. She had told Rhaegar and now she wished she hadn't. She wished the prince had dismissed her words as childish nonsense, rather than planting a thought inside her head that any younger sibling might one day be the end of her. It would be easier to just hate Tyrion.
However, it seemed she couldn't afford that anymore. No matter how much she disliked the thought of being nice to Tyrion, there would be one valonqar less in the world she would need to worry about if he thought her a loving sister. She would have to suppress her revulsion in Tyrion's presence; if Jaime could do it, then so could she.
"I'm not feeling well." She called out faintly. She might have decided she would do everything in her power to avoid the ending Maggy had predicted, but the beginning of that battle would have to wait until tomorrow. "I can't go back to the feast."
"Do you want me to send for a physician?" Jaime asked in concern that at the same time warmed her heart and irked her. She just wanted to be left alone, couldn't he see that?
"No." She said, careful not to let irritation sneak into her voice. "Please, give my regards to the prince."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. In the end, neither of the twins broke it.
"Jaime," Tyrion's voice reached Cersei's ears. "Is Cersei sick?"
Like you care. She wanted to yell, but remembered her decision regarding Tyrion and remained quiet. Being kind to him wouldn't come easily to her; for now, she would go with not being mean.
"She will be fine tomorrow." Jaime answered confidently; he knew she was listening. "Come, let us go back to the feast."
Thankfully, they finally took his leave, the sound of their (reluctant) steps drifting away in the distance.
Cersei let out a breath of relief and allowed her eyes to fall shut. She saw Rhaegar's face in the darkness behind her eyelids, serious and attentive. That was the first and the only time he had seemed entirely focused on her. She couldn't understand why he would be interested in the prophecy when, until tonight, he hadn't shown any real interest in Cersei herself (still much to her disbelief and disappointment). He didn't even know the prophecy involved him.
What had captured the prince's attention then? And why did Cersei feel she was missing something?
"My lady, your father is here. He insists that he must speak to you."
For a moment, Cersei considered scolding the maid and threatening to have her beaten for waking her up; surely a new day couldn't already have dawned.
Grudgingly, she opened her eyes. The room was dark, lit only by a few candles. Outside, there was only darkness, as black as the well which Melara had drowned in (she had fallen into the abyss, on her own, on her own…).
Cersei noticed the crimson of her clothes; she was still wearing the satin dress from the previous night. She must have fallen asleep sometime after her talk with Jaime.
Jaime. Valonqar. The prophecy.
Suddenly, the memories came rushing back and words froze in her throat. Her eyes wide open, she found Father standing at the door, staring at her face to make sure she had awakened. She stood up instantly, smoothing down her dress quickly (and unsubtly) as if that could erase all the wrinkles that had appeared on the fabric as she turned in her sleep.
"Leave us." Father told the maid without taking his eyes off his daughter.
When they were left alone, Father approached her, his hands clasped behind his back, as if she were a vassal whom he would soon intimidate into submission. His expression was stern but otherwise unreadable. Cersei swallowed hard, her knees feeling as if to give way at any moment, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on his. She knew he was furious with her for having left the feast (and the prince) so abruptly, but he would grow even angrier if she let him know how terrified she was of his wrath. He had never struck her before, but tonight she had a dreadful feeling she might meet the full extension of his displeasure.
"Do you know what you did tonight?"
His question didn't include the word 'why'; Tywin Lannister didn't care why you did anything. He only cared whether you did what he wanted you to do (and gods have mercy on you if you didn't).
Cersei cleared her throat, willing her voice not to shake.
"I left without the King's permission." She said; despite her efforts, her voice wasn't quite even. "I brought disgrace upon our House."
"You're aware of it." He nodded. "Good."
He took another step towards her. She couldn't help it, she took a step backwards, her knees bumping into the edge of the bed.
"When I saw you running off like a madman, at that moment, I couldn't even think of a suitable punishment." She found that hard to believe; Father could be quite imaginative when it came to punishing people who displeased him. "The King said that he would have had you whipped for your insolence… were you anyone else's daughter."
Some distant part of Cersei's mind, one that wasn't completely overcome with fear, noticed the briefest pause Father had made in his speech. She stored it safely somewhere for later, when she had the time and wits to think on it.
"He also announced that your behaviour tonight would have no influence on his opinion on the match between you and the Crown prince."
In spite of everything, Cersei felt her heart leap inside her chest with joy. Her happiness must have shown on her face, because Father's eyes narrowed, rendering her silent.
"He'd decided, even before arriving to our home," The coldness in Father's voice was harsher than the northern wind, "That he wouldn't accept the betrothal between you and his son."
For a few heartbeats, Cersei couldn't even breathe, so overwhelmed was she with disbelief. It must have been some kind of mistake, a misunderstanding. Why would the King reject her, the daughter of his Hand, the (second) most powerful man in Westeros? Her family was the wealthiest and she the loveliest maiden in the Realm; who could be a more suitable match for the prince than her?
The King must think I'm ugly too. Tears of disappointment appeared in her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked rapidly a few times, trying to keep them at bay. Crying was the most obvious display of weakness, but she couldn't restrain herself. Why didn't the King see how beautiful she was? Or perhaps everyone else had been lying to her.
(Not Jaime. Jaime wouldn't lie to her. The King must be blind, the fool.)
Self-loathing turned into fury. She was angry with the King for rejecting her, with Father for not persuading the King to accept her, with Aunt Genna for assuring her she would be betrothed to the prince, with Prince Rhaegar for not falling in love with her, with Maggy for cursing her…
"But," Father's voice cut through her litany of names and accusations, "All is not lost."
Cersei raised her head to look in his green eyes. Suddenly aware she had clenched her fists in her rage, she relaxed them and tried her best to imitate Father's poised posture as she waited for him to elaborate.
"After my talk with the King, Prince Rhaegar came to see me and insisted adamantly you are to leave with us for King's Landing tomorrow." Was it just Cersei's imagination or did Father's lip curl in triumph? His mouth hadn't formed anything resembling a smile since Mother's death. "Despite the discourtesy you showed, you'd clearly made quite an impression."
Rhaegar himself had asked for her? Cersei's heart started thundering inside her chest fervently, its beats echoing in her ears. The prince hadn't gone to his father and insisted he would marry only her and no-one else, which would have been preferable, but for now, this sign of affection would suffice.
(Unless he had only asked for her out of mere interest in the prophecy––he hadn't. He couldn't have.)
"As far as everyone is concerned, you are coming to serve as my cupbearer." Father was, as always, blind to her inner turmoil, already having moved on to other matters. "You shall observe and learn – and one day, if you master these lessons, you will rule Westeros."
Cersei blinked in surprise. Father had never showed any willingness to teach her anything. His hopes for the future lay with Jaime; her brother had the best tutors gold could buy; in swordplay, politics, money distribution. Father had even taught him some things himself during his visits to Casterly Rock, making Cersei green with jealousy. Unlike her twin, she was expected to have enough knowledge of certain things so she wouldn't embarrass the House Lannister, but Father had never bothered to spend time with her. She was a woman and therefore unworthy of his attention.
Until now, it seemed.
"I won't disappoint you, Father." She vowed. I'm smarter than Jaime and far more beautiful than Tyrion. I'm a Lannister. I will make you proud.
She was once again taken aback when Father cupped her cheek gently. His eyes burned into hers; for a moment, she thought he might kiss her on the forehead. The prospect made her shiver – he had never shown such tenderness to anyone but Mother.
"You are your mother's daughter." He said at last and let of her face, but the intensity of his gaze didn't lessen. "She too disappointed me once. I forgave her, just like I will forgive your tonight's lack of judgement. She never disappointed me again."
Cersei swallowed hard, but forced herself to nod in acknowledgment of his warning.
He turned around and left the room without another word. It was only when she could no longer hear the sound of his footsteps that air filled Cersei's lungs, her knees giving way beneath her, landing her on the bed. Emotions roared within her like lions fighting for dominance over the pack: anger, joy, fear, hope.
Rhaegar has asked for me. It was the penultimate thought that went through her mind before she fell asleep again.
I will be Queen.
She was woken up by someone hissing in her ear and a hand on her right shoulder shaking her. Startled, she sat up straight, her gaze trying to cut through the nearly complete darkness of her chambers. Her outstretched hand reached out to where she thought she was seeing the outlines of the intruder and landed on soft skin of a cheek. It took her a moment (and the feeling of the trespasser's hand gently caressing her cheek) to recognize her twin.
"Jaime!" She hissed back warningly, casting an apprehensive look at the door of her chambers. What if he was caught in her chambers at this hour? What if Father learned of it?
It was easy for Jaime to be reckless; his punishment would be painless, a few hours of practicing swordplay replaced with studying history or some other activity he loathed. But Father might punish her by leaving her in Casterly Rock, miles and miles away from Prince Rhaegar.
She would never, ever forgive Jaime if he ruined this for her. She would hate him for his betrayal forever.
"What are you doing here?" She removed her hand from his face and slapped his away harshly. "If anyone sees you here…"
"Tyrion is distracting the guard." He interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.
So, he had roped the little beast into this machination too? Was he an utter idiot? Tyrion would surely blab out.
"Nobody will ever know I was here." His voice grew a little louder. He sounded hurt by her rejection, but right now, she didn't care. She just wanted him to leave.
"I need to talk to you." He said before she could insist that he left.
Even though she couldn't see his face in the dark, she could hear his desperation in his voice. It stirred something inside her chest, a tug at the bond only twins shared. Her hand looked for and found his; when he tried to snatch it out of her grasp, she wouldn't let him.
"Then talk." She ordered firmly. She could guess what he wanted to talk about, but his words wouldn't sway her. He would leave her behind without hesitation if he'd been offered to squire for the prince of Ser Arthur Dayne; why should she show him any compassion?
Tense silence lingered between them; Cersei could hear her own heartbeat. It unnerved her, but she didn't interrupt it, waiting for Jaime to muster up the courage.
"I heard Father talking to servants." He said at last; there was an accusing note to his tone she most certainly didn't appreciate. "They said you were leaving with him for King's Landing tomorrow."
"I am." She confirmed without a beat, pride sneaking into her voice as she said: "The prince himself asked for me."
His hand jolted in hers, but she didn't relax her grasp.
"Why?" He asked icily.
She refused to admit Rhaegar's interest in her was seemingly coming only from his interest in the prophecy she'd been told, not in Cersei herself. Whatever his reasons were now, they would soon be irrelevant. She would make him love her for her, not for some lies a witch had told her.
"Does it matter?" She let go of Jaime's hand, angry with him for questioning her decision. She was going to King's Landing and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. "I can't really say no, can I?"
Silence fell upon the room again; the only sound that could be heard was their harmonious breathing. For a moment, Cersei thought her brother had left without another word; part of her was relieved, part of her was dejected.
"So one day, you will marry the prince and be his Queen, like you've always wanted." Jaime's upset voice reached her ears. And you will forget me and everything we've shared. "Like that drawing you painted?"
So he had seen through her lie. She had thought herself so clever for tricking him.
"Yes, I will be Queen." She said spitefully. She would not feel bad about any of this. "Your sister will rule Westeros. You should be glad. I will have the power to give you whatever you want, to make you…" She took a deep breath of excitement as she looked for the right word, "Anything."
Judging by his silence, he didn't share her enthusiasm. His hand found her cheek again; this time, she let him keep it there.
"I don't want anything." His warm breath caressed her lips, sending a wave of heat through her body. The scent of his skin invaded her nostrils, so sweet and familiar. "I want you. Just you."
She wanted him too, his arms around her, his lips on hers. But she also wanted so much more. She wanted to be Queen. She wanted Rhaegar. She wanted power. She wanted the world.
She wanted Father's approval.
Jaime couldn't understand that. Tonight, for the first time she could remember, Father had praised her. He'd been proud of her. In his mind's eye, he'd seen the bright future of the House Lannister that she would bring.
She wanted that future. The Golden Queen, poets of forthcoming days would call her. Or The Crimson Queen, bathed in blood of those who dare stand in my way.
She couldn't have that future with Jaime. Her future lay with Rhaegar.
She placed her hand over his, leaned forwards and kissed him on the lips. Her tongue pressed softly against his mouth in invitation; it took him only a heartbeat to respond. He pressed her body against his and deepened the kiss, their tongues caressing gently.
She was the one to break the kiss, pushing at his chest with her hands.
She couldn't see him, but she looked straight at where she guessed his eyes were. He needed to know she wouldn't change her mind.
For a moment, everything stood as if frozen. Then the weight on the bed shifted and she couldn't feel Jaime's chest beneath her palms anymore. She watched as the thin streak of light appeared when the door opened; a moment later, she was left alone in the darkness.
I will be Queen. She repeated to herself as she lowered her head onto a pillow. She would be Queen and everyone, including her brothers and her father, would have to bow to her. The Golden Queen. The Crimson Queen.
I know similar storylines have been done before, but I wanted to write my own spin on the version where Cersei and Rhaegar (eventually) got married. He needed three heads of the dragon and she was fortold that she would have three children, so I thought 'Why not make those two prophecies one and the same?' As you've probably noticed, I made one slight change regarding Maggy's prophecy, but the rest remained the same (the phasing at least).
Reviews are very much appreciated. I find writing the characters as true to cannon as possible one of the most important things, so please, tell me if there's any OOCness present. If you have any other comments, I'd love to hear them too. Also, I want to apologize for any grammar or spelling mistake, because English isn't my first language. I hope they won't bother you too much.