[King's Landing - Red Keep, Cersei's Chambers]

Cersei Lannister sat in her chambers, staring into the flames of the fireplace. She had just received word from Qyburn, her loyal advisor, that Jon Snow, the Warden of the North, had made a shocking revelation. According to Qyburn, Jon Snow had confessed to being Jaeharys Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Cersei's mind raced as she tried to process this information. She had alwys believed that the Targaryens were nothing but a bunch of mad, power-hungry monarchs, but if Jon Snow was truly the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, then that meant he had a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne.

But Cersei was not one to give up power easily. She had spent her entire lifr fighting for the throne, and she would not let some pretender to the throne take it away from her. She knew that she had to act quickly to protect her own claim to the throne.

She called for Qyburn to come to her chambers, and when he arrived, she demanded to know more about this revelation. Qyburn told her everything he knew, including the fact that Jon Snow had been born in secret, and that his true parentage had been kept hidden from the world.

Cersei's grip on the armrests of her chair tightened as she listened to Qyburn's words. She knew that she had to do something to protect her own claim to the throne, and she was determined to stop Jon Snow from spreading his true identity to the world.

"What do you suggest we do, Qyburn?" she asked, her voice cold and calculating.

"My lady," Qyburn replied, "I suggest we take action to neutralize the threat posed by Jon Snow. We cannot allow his true identity to spread across the world and challenge your claim to the throne."

Cersei nodded, her mind racing with the possibilities. She knew that she had to be careful, but she was determined to do whatever it took to protect her claim to the throne. She would not let some pretender to the throne take away everything she had worked for.

"I will consider your suggestions, Qyburn," she said. "But I will not hesitate to take action if necessary. The throne is mine, and I will do whatever it takes to keep it."

Qyburn bowed his head in respect, knowing that Cersei was a woman to be reckoned with. He knew that she would stop at nothing to protect her claim to the throne, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to help her achieve her goals.

As he left her chambers, Qyburn began to mull over the various options they had. He knew that they could attempt to assassinate Jon Snow, but with his growing popularity in the North, that might prove difficult. Another option was to spread rumors about his true parentage, casting doubt on his claim to the throne. But Qyburn wasn't sure how effective that would be, as there were those who still remembered the story Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark during Robert's Rebellion.

He decided to gather more information on Jon Snow and his supporters before presenting Cersei with a more detailed plan. He knew that time was of the essence, but he also wanted to ensure that they did not make any rash decisions that could have disastrous consequences for the Lannisters.

As Qyburn began his investigation, he discovered that Jon Snow had been gathering allies from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. He had the support of the North, of course, but he also had the respect of the Night's Watch, the Wildlings, and even some of the Lords of Westeros who were tired of the endless infighting. Jon Snow was not just a threat to Cersei's claim to the throne; he was a threat to the entire stability of the realm.

Meanwhile, Arya silently made her way through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, her steps as light as a whisper. Her heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and vengeance. Tonight was the night she would confront Cersei Lannister. As she approached the door to Cersei's chambers, Arya's gloved hand tightened around the vial of poison concealed within her cloak.

With a flicker of a devilish grin, Arya knocked gently on the door, her voice taking on a soft, innocent tone as she called out, "My queen, it is I, your devoted handmaiden. May I enter?"

Opening the door, Cersei's icy glare pierced through Arya's disguise. "What do you want?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

"I bring you your favorite vintage, my queen," Arya said, her words dripping with false sweetness. "A small token of my appreciation for your generous nature."

Cersei's eyes gleamed with curiosity as she reached for the glass of wine Arya held out to her. The poison mixed within the wine had been carefully chosen—a slow-acting toxin that would plunge Cersei into a nightmare of her own making.

As Cersei took a sip, Arya's eyes studied her almost gleefully. A shiver ran down her spine as Cersei's expression changed, a haunting mix of terror and confusion crossing her face. The poison was taking effect.

With a sinister smirk, Arya whispered, "Do you see them, my queen? Your family, the ones you lost?"

Cersei's eyes darted around the room, her breathing growing rapid. "No... this can't be," she muttered, her voice trembling.

Arya continued her torment, her voice transforming into a chilling imitation of Cersei's deceased husband, Robert Baratheon, "Cersei, my sweet lioness, you have doomed us all!"

Cersei blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her face as she frantically searched for an escape from her own delusions.

Arya relished in the sight, savoring the taste of vengeance.

The once powerful queen sank to her knees, her hands trembling. "Please, make it stop," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arya couldn't suppress a dark chuckle as she leaned closer to Cersei, her eyes glinting with hateful satisfaction.

Cersei sat in her chambers, her heart heavy with grief and guilt. She had lost everything - her father, her sons, her husband. Her daughters, her only remaining children, had left her. The weight of her losses threatened to crush her at every turn.

She could not sleep, haunted by the memories of the past. The vicious cycle of power struggles and betrayals had consumed her life, leaving her nothing but a broken shell of the woman she once was. Even now, she could still hear the echoes of their voices in her mind: her father's stern voice, her husband's drunken jests, her children's laughter.

She had tried to protect them, to shield them from the ugliness of the world. But in the end, her efforts had only served to make them pawns in someone else's game. They had paid the ultimate price for her ambition. And now she was alone, with nothing but the cold, empty halls of the Red Keep for company.

Cersei rose from her chair, her movements listless and heavy. She paced aimlessly around her chambers, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos that had become her life. But with every step, she could feel the weight of her past dragging her down further.

She paused before a mirror, studying her reflection with disdain. Her once-beautiful face was now etched with lines of sorrow and despair. Her golden hair, once the source of so much envy, now cut incredibly short. She was a shell of the woman she had once been, and she knew it.

Cersei sat down heavily on her bed, her gaze drifting upward to the painted ceiling. She wondered what her life would have been like if she had made different choices. If she had been content with her role as a wife and mother, rather than yearning for power and control. Perhaps then, she might have been able to keep her family together. But that was a foolish thought, she knew. The world she lived in did not reward such naivety.

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her short hair. It was no use dwelling on the past. All she could do now was find a way to survive. To somehow rebuild her life amidst the ashes of everything she had once held dear.

But then, another figure appeared. This one was Arya-as-Joffrey, smirking and arrogant.

"Mother," he sneered. "I see you're still mourning my untimely demise. Don't worry, I'm not here to haunt you. I'm here to torment you."

Cersei's eyes widened in terror as Joffrey (Arya) began to taunt her, his voice dripping with malice. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong.

Just as she was about to give in to her fear, a third figure appeared. This one was Arya-as-Tommen, his voice soft and gentle.

"Mother," he said. "I'm here to comfort you, not to torment you. Let me hold you and ease your pain."

Cersei hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then, she felt a warm embrace and the presence of her dead sons surrounded her. She wept tears of grief and relief, knowing that they were still with her, even in death.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped forward, unconscious. Arya smiled again, a cold, triumphant smile. She had done it. She had convinced Cersei that she was her dead sons and father, and now she had the opportunity to bring the Queen Regent to justice.

But as she looked down at Cersei's unconscious form, Arya knew that this was only the beginning. She had to find a way to bring Cersei to justice, to make her face the consequences of her actions. And she knew that it would not be easy. But she was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.