"Are you sure this will work?" the queen gazed at the small vial in her hand, the liquid inside it a rich purple swirling with black. "It has never been tested before, your grace. But I am sure of its success. I have worked long and hard, and faced many terrible things to create this spell," the hooded man answered her. Cersei closed her fist around the vial. "Thank you. I will remember what you have done after we have crossed over." The man bowed and left. The queen slowly unfolded the instructions that were attached to the spell. "An open space to unleash the spell. Add the blood of the one you love most. Say the words."

She swallowed hard and turned to stare out the window into the dark night. The one I love most, she mused. Who was there that she loved? They had all left her. Myrcella was dead. Tommen was dead. Joffery was dead. Jaime had left her in disgust. She was cast out, ruined. Her hand clutched the instructions, her nails biting into her hand. She looked down and saw blood dripping from the cuts. And she knew. Too easy. Cersei turned and stalked out of the room. She was glad to leave this miserable inn in this miserable village. They would all pay. She would be on top once again, not that silver-haired wench with her dragons. She sent for her horse, and as she waited she caught her reflection on a glass hanging by the door. Forced to flee, she had cut her long, blonde curls. Now they just touched her shoulders, dyed a dark brown from walnut stain. She looked pale and thin, but her eyes were bright.

The horse delivered to her, she rode hard out of the village, down the road. An open space was needed for the spell to work. And she knew just the place. Cersei had never put much by magic before, but she had nothing to lose by this. If it didn't work, well, that was that. But if it did…all would be right. The dead would not be in this new world, but everyone else would be. Jaime. He would not remember who he was, who she was, but Cersei had no doubt that they would find their way to each other again. She would give him a good postion, and make him fall in love wit her again. As for the others…well, Cersei wasn't sure how much control she had over the specifics, but she would make sure to keep a close eye on those who had caused her pain.

She rode hard all night and the next day, almost killing her poor horse. She paid no heed; this was something that needed to be executed quickly. Many people were looking for her, and she barely escaped each time. She followed a path off the road through a small tangle of trees, leading up to a clearing. It was a place that they had stopped at once on the way to Winterfell, before Robert died. It felt like a million years ago. The queen dismounted and stared at the center of the clearing, surrounded by large stones that travelers would sit upon. Yes, this, was a good place. A wide field lay around them. Even if someone spotted her, it would be too late to do anything by the time they reached the top of the hill.

Cersei collected branches and started a fire as dusk drew near. She took out a dagger, her one weapon, and looked at her hand. "The one I love most is myself," she whispered, slicing through her skin. She let the blood fall into the fire and it hissed. Then she took the vial and poured the purplish liquid out on the flames. A large puff of smoke gathered, eating the fire and the wood. Dropping the glass, Cersei stretched out her arms and repeated the spell words, willing them to obey her and what she wanted. When she uttered the last word, the smoke grew higher and filled the air around her. The sharp sound of thunder echoed across the sky, and lighting began to rain down around the hill. The cloud grew larger and larger and swept across Cersei, her arms still spread out, a smile on her face, and the cloud consumed her rolled down the fields across Westeros.