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Worgen Stone, le il y a 1 mois et 1 semaine.
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R.Graymarch
- Barral
- Posts : 10332
R.Graymarch
- Barral
- Posts : 10332
Après un chapitre moyen, on arrive à un fameux morceau.
Le temps a passé et c’est l’heure d’expier pour Cersei. Elle tente la méthode Coué pour se dire que ce n’est qu’un mauvais moment à passer, que tout va bien se passer après etc. J’ai pensé à Catelyn qui se rend aux Noces pourpres.
I will have guards, she told herself. They will keep the crowds away. No one will be allowed to touch me. The High Sparrow had promised her that much.
Et là je découvre que Tytos gardait des lions (en cage, comme lui ?^^). Avec des yeux dorés comme le papa de Cersei
Cersei paced her cell, restless as the caged lions that had lived in the bowels of Casterly Rock when she was a girl, a legacy of her grandfather’s time. She and Jaime used to dare each other to climb into their cage, and once she worked up enough courage to slip her hand between two bars and touch one of the great tawny beasts. She was always bolder than her brother. The lion had turned his head to stare at her with huge golden eyes.
Cersei se méfie de tout le monde, son oncle, ou le Grand Septon
She could not trust her uncle, no more than she trusted this High Septon. I could still refuse. I could still insist upon my innocence and hazard all upon a trial.
Oh tiens, elle a des nouvelles de Jaime
Jaime’s sword hand was gone, and so was he, vanished with the woman Brienne somewhere in the riverlands.
Et on voit ce qu’elle pense de ses enfants : ah ben prends ça, Joff
She had to reach Tommen, no matter the costs. He loves me. He will not refuse his own mother. Joff was stubborn and unpredictable, but Tommen is a good little boy, a good little king. He will do as he is told.
Cersei se berce encore d’illusions
“No harm will come to me today,” Cersei said when the day’s first light brushed her window. “Only my pride will suffer.” The words rang hollow in her ears. Jaime may yet come. She pictured him riding through the morning mists, his golden armor bright in the light of the rising sun. Jaime, if you ever loved me …
Oh mais une couronne dorée, on dirait le Valonqar, non ? ^^
My crown, the queen thought. They took the other crown away from me, and now they are stealing this one as well.
On rase Cersei intégralement, ça reste de l’humiliation, mais j’ai pas trouvé ça écrit de manière trop complaisante. Et Cersei prévoit de se venger un jour
But one day I will have your tongue ripped out with hot pincers, and that will be hilarious.
Allez, on y va, tout va bien se passer
She had come to Baelor’s Sept a queen, riding in a litter. She was leaving bald and barefoot. But I am leaving. That is all that matters.
Alors, comme prévu, y a du temps. J’avais oublié sa protection personnelle. Certes, ça n’enlève pas l’humiliation mais ça rend le tout moins dangereux (Cersei s’est rappelée Lollys).
“Perhaps Your Grace will recall me. I am Ser Theodan the True, and His High Holiness has given me command of your escort. My brothers and I will see you safely through the city.”
Elle se rend compte qu’elle est à l’endroit où Ned Stark est mort et on apprend (?) des choses sur l’enchaînement des événements d’alors
It came to her suddenly that she had stood in this very spot before, on the day Lord Eddard Stark had lost his head. That was not supposed to happen. Joff was supposed to spare his life and send him to the Wall. Stark’s eldest son would have followed him as Lord of Winterfell, but Sansa would have stayed at court, a hostage. Varys and Littlefinger had worked out the terms, and Ned Stark had swallowed his precious honor and confessed his treason to save his daughter’s empty little head. I would have made Sansa a good marriage. A Lannister marriage. Not Joff, of course, but Lancel might have suited, or one of his younger brothers. Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. If Joff had only done as he was told, Winterfell would never have gone to war, and Father would have dealt with Robert’s brothers.
Instead Joff had commanded that Stark’s head be struck off, and Lord Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne had hastened to obey.
Elle espère
GrouchyJaime mais personne ne vient. Kevan l’avait prévenu quant à sa venueSer Kevan had made his views plain during his last visit; her shame must not be allowed to tarnish the honor of Casterly Rock. No lions would walk with her today.
Autre souvenir, celle de l’ex de Tytos. Mais Cersei n’est pas de la même trempe
The silks and velvets Lord Tytos had lavished on her and the jewelry she had taken for herself had been stripped from her, and she had been sent forth naked to walk through the streets of Lannisport, so the west could see her for what she was.
/
If Ser Kevan and the High Sparrow thought that it would be the same with her, they were very much mistaken. Lord Tywin’s blood was in her. I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them.
Motivée, elle enlève sa robe (elle-même). Vous avez pensé à Godiva (en version trash), vous aussi ? Elle est toujours à bloc, elle est trop belle etc etc
Escortée par les septas, elle y croit encore
They think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong.
L’auteur nous fait un aparté sur Baelor le bienheureux (en apparence car en fait ouch). La progression est dure mais elle tient. Puis elle trébuche mais on la soutient
She might have fallen, but Septa Unella caught her arm and kept her on her feet. “Your Grace should watch where she sets her feet.”
Ca se corse, cela dit
The shouting seemed louder here than on the plaza, perhaps because the mob was so much closer. “Whore” and “sinner” were most common, but “brotherfucker” and “cunt” and “traitor” were flung at her as well, and now and again she heard someone shout out for Stannis or Margaery. The cobbles underfoot were filthy, and there was so little space that the queen could not even walk around the puddles. No one has ever died of wet feet, she told herself. She wanted to believe the puddles were just rainwater, though horse piss was just as likely.
On lui balance un cadavre de chat rempli de vers (euh, hein ?). Elle y croit encore, et puis…
Halfway down Visenya’s Hill the queen fell for the first time, when her foot slipped in something that might have been nightsoil.
C’est moi ou c’est une version un peu détournée du chemin de croix ?
Elle se la joue bravache mais pourtant, ça craint
“You must continue. The crowd is growing unruly.”
Yes, she thought. Unruly. “I am not afraid—”
“You should be.”
Ah si Jaime était là !! (dans tes rêves, Cersei)
It should be Jaime beside me. He would draw his golden sword and slash a path right through the mob, carving the eyes out of the head of every man who dared to look at her.
Le sol devient plus agressif et elle saigne. Ca devient compliqué même si le point d’arrivée se rapproche
“You do not need to drag me, ser.” She limped on, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the stones behind her.
Là, elle commence à halluciner et voit des personnes (souvent mortes). Et elle tombe à nouveau. Elle n’est pas passée par Culpucier mais le peuple s’est déplacé, lui
Et là, ça devient dur
She did not feel beautiful, though. She felt old, used, filthy, ugly. There were stretch marks on her belly from the children she had borne, and her breasts were not as firm as they had been when she was younger. Without a gown to hold them up, they sagged against her chest. I should not have done this. I was their queen, but now they’ve seen, they’ve seen, they’ve seen. I should never have let them see. Gowned and crowned, she was a queen. Naked, bloody, limping, she was only a woman, not so very different from their wives, more like their mothers than their pretty little maiden daughters. What have I done?
En fait, ça part en vrille, elle craque
“Queen you shall be,” she hissed, “until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold most dear.”
And then there was no stopping the tears. They burned down the queen’s cheeks like acid. Cersei gave a sharp cry, covered her nipples with one arm, slid her other hand down to hide her slit, and began to run, shoving her way past the line of Poor Fellows, crouching as she scrambled crab-legged up the hill. Partway up she stumbled and fell, rose, then fell again ten yards farther on. The next thing she knew she was crawling, scrambling uphill on all fours like a dog as the good folks of King’s Landing made way for her, laughing and jeering and applauding her.
Ouch, dur, les chutes, les pleurs, la fin à quatre pattes, ce n’est pas allé comme prévu
Elle arrive enfin à destination et se fait protéger (et emmitouflée dans une couverture verte) par un Garde royal tout de blanc vêtu
Elle est clairement à moitié consciente
She had heard that giants could still be found in the godless wild beyond the Wall. That is just a tale. Am I dreaming?
Tss, tss toujours à douter de Kevan
Ser Kevan had kept his part of the bargain. Tommen, her precious little boy, had named her champion to the Kingsguard.
Cersei never saw where Qyburn came from, but suddenly he was there beside them
Et on nous présente ser Robert (ce prénom…) Strong. Pas sûr que j’ai capté qui c’était en primolecture. Il va la venger de tous ses ennemis, ça tombe bien Cersei croit en avoir plein, et elle a soif de vengeance. Qu’est ce qui pourrait mal se passer
Très bon chapitre, vraiment le PoV de Cersei face à un peuple haineux et des puissants trop méchants.
Je sers la Garde et c'est ma joie. For this night, and all the nights to come
MJ de Chanson d'Encre et de Sang (2013-2020) et de parties en ligne de jeu de rôle
MJ par intérim de Les Prétendants d'Harrenhal (2024-), rejoignez-nous
DOH : #TeamLoyalistsForeverUntilNow. L’élu des 7, le Conseiller-Pyat Pree qui ne le Fut Jamais
Worgen Stone
- Terreur des Spectres
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