Cersei Lannister
Intake Information: Client is a 40 year old female mandated to attend therapy as the result of a court order. Requirement for therapy has to do with recent events involving her work and family life, and what Client describes as “alleged crimes,” as numerated by an authority referred to as the High Sparrow. Client reports feelings of anxiety and frustration, as well as a lack of appetite. Client is a widow, has three children, and reports no previous therapy experience.
Cersei Lannister sits on the couch across from me, wearing a formless dirty brown dress, her hair shorn and sticking out at jagged angles. Her affect and posture are regal even as her clothes indicate otherwise. She looks around my office with a hint of disdain.
“This couch is uncomfortable. I’m not used to such formless furniture. I need something with more support. Do you have any chairs?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t,” I say. “I probably should have a chair, though, for clients who prefer one. I’ll make note of that for the future. So tell me, Cersei. Why are you here?”
She smirks. “Doesn’t it say why in those important looking papers of yours?”
I pick up her intake paperwork.
“It says here you’re mandated to attend therapy as a ‘requirement for your rehabilitation’ as ruled by the High Sparrow. Who’s that?”
Cersei scoffs. “Who is the High Sparrow? He’s a worm, a tiny little man hiding behind the shield of religion. He’s jealous of those with royal blood, and he wishes me ill.”
“So is he, like, a judge?”
“Yes, as well as jury and executioner.”
“And what is this rehabilitation he mentions?” I ask.
“I am to serve penance for my sins.”
“What are these sins?”
“Do you exist simply to ask questions?” she says, annoyed.
“That’s pretty much my job.”
“And if I refuse to answer them?”
“Then you refuse.”
“But I must remain here for the allotted time?”
“Fifty minutes. By ruling of the High Sparrow,” I remind her. “But I can’t force you to talk.”
Cersei smiles wistfully. “I miss forcing people to talk. It can be quite satisfying.”
She sighs, and sits back, seemingly happy to sit in silence, and I join her, waiting.
After a minute or so she appears restless, and leans back in. “What are my sins, you ask? What are anyone’s sins? They are simply actions one takes that are judged by others differently than how one judges them one’s self.”
“So, sins are subjective.”
“They can be. And they are in this case. As a queen, I would say my sins should not even be considered sins by my subjects. Although I suppose technically I’m no longer a queen. And that’s besides the point for the High Sparrow, whose entire worldview is shaped by disdain for royalty and aversion to the monarchy. That’s why he took such pleasure in my walk of shame.”
“Walk of shame?” I ask, as I write that down in my notes. “Tell me about that.”
“It is just as it is named. I was made to strip naked and walk the outskirts of the castle as the common people pelted me with rotten vegetables, all in an effort to force me to accept and acknowledge the actions I must feel shame for.”
“That sounds like it was difficult.”
“It was. It was intended to break me. To humiliate me. And in some sense it did, but I am too strong a person to ever lose faith in myself. Even if as part of the ruse I had to present myself as if I had. Accept my punishment, turn over a new leaf, all that. You see, I know from experience that if one is being tortured and wishes it to end, one must act as if the torture hurts. Defiance to torture only brings on more of the same.”
“Sounds like you have some experience with torture,” I observe.
“Oh, I do. Both as torturer and torturee.” She grins wickedly. “The former is preferable.”
“You know, shame is a tricky emotion. It can be relentless, and at the same time hidden. It can exist in the background of our lives, affecting everything we do and feel. But from what I’m hearing, you didn’t feel it in this situation.”
“I feel no shame, period. I am a queen,” says Cersei defiantly. “It is impossible for me to be wrong about anything. Why should I feel shame?”
I shrug and don’t respond. We sit there for a quiet moment. Then I think of a question.
“What did you do that this High Sparrow considered a sin?”
“I am accused of adultery.”
“I see. A classic sin,” I observe.
“Perhaps, but not worthy in my view of the punishment I have been assigned.”
“Any other sins you’ve been accused of?”
Cersei opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Anything you say here is held in complete confidence, and won’t be shared with anyone outside this room without your permission.”
“Anything?”
“Yes. With a few exceptions. I am a mandated reporter, so there are some things I am required to report if I hear them in session. These involve statements regarding harm to yourself, harm to others, and abuse of children or elders. Everything else is top secret.”
Cersei nods, considering this, eyeing me intently. “And I see from your paperwork that you’re a Stark. I am kin to some Starks, and I cannot say I trust them. Any relationship?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Also, no relation to Tony Stark.”
“Tony Stark? I know not of that one.”
“Iron Man. From the Avengers?”
Cersei looks at me quizzically, so I get back on track.
“My point is, anything you say here is in complete confidence, with a few exceptions that you’re now aware of. So, you should feel free to share whatever you want without fear of it leaving this room.”
“Very well. I have also been accused of regicide. This is related to the death of my first husband, Robert. He was such a boor. Ironically, he was killed by a boar.” She chuckles.
“I see.” I sit in silence and wait for her to continue. Cersei seems to be waiting for me to ask a follow up question, but I don’t. Now she seems uncomfortable, and after a moment speaks up again.
“There is another sin.”
I continue to sit in silence, looking at her, waiting.
“Do you wish to know it?” Cersei asks.
“Yes, if you’re willing to share,” I reply.
Cersei seems to consider what she’s about to say, becoming more emotional now, more vulnerable. Then it all comes out in one big burst.
“I have an incestuous relationship with my twin brother Jaime, and have borne three children with him, passing them off as offspring of King Robert and keeping this a secret, thus creating a fraudulent line of succession to the throne of Westeros, and in theory the entire Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne.”
I jot this information down in my notes. “The Iron Throne?”
“The seat of power over the whole of the known world.”
“Sounds like a big deal,” I say.
“Indeed, it is the biggest of deals.” Cersei’s affect has changed now. She seems looser, more relaxed. “I must say, it feels good to share this secret with someone I’m not related too. It feels like a burden lifted.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. “It’s amazing how powerful it can be to verbalize strong and repressed emotions we’ve been carrying around inside.”
“Well said. So yes, that is the truth of the matter. Now, the High Sparrow suspected as much, but there was also evidence that I slept with a cousin, Lancel, because I did. But that was just about sex and obedience, with no implications for the bloodline. So I admitted to that, which satisfied the High Sparrow because it was still reason enough to punish me thus, so I have successfully avoided having to disclose any of this information with anyone outside of my family.” She fixes a steely gaze on me. “Except for you.”
“And my lips are sealed,” I say, intimidated.
“Good.” Cersei seems to have moved on past the emotions of this topic, and is ready for a new one. “I’m curious about why the Sparrow sought to have me attend therapy. Perhaps it’s just something one is expected to do when being punished for their crimes. Perhaps my time here with you is supposed to help me realize how very wrong I was, to see the error of my ways, and be inspired to change and act differently?”
“That’s often the case,” I say.
“That seems like the expectation, but it will not be the result. I have an indomitable will, a long memory, and I’m willing to play the game however I must in order to win.”
“And what is the game exactly?”
“The biggest game of them all. The game of power. You either win, or you die.” And in the end, I shall be the victor.”
I sneak a look at the clock. “Well, we’re just about out of time for today. It’s noted in your paperwork that we’re to see each other seven more times.”
“Very well. Although I have a trial date next week, and if things go according to plan, I might not be back here at all.”
“Okay, well, just keep me updated.”
I rise as Cersei stands up and approaches the office door.
“Ser Gregor!” she calls.
From outside my office the door is opened by a gigantic, helmeted knight in metal armor.
“Maybe the gods go with you,” says Cersei,as they exit.
“Right back at you,” I reply.
I close the door behind them, then sit down to write up my notes.
Clinical Notes: Client presented with a regal affect, even as her clothes and hair were dirty and disheveled. Client revealed her lack of enthusiasm for therapy, this being a process she was mandated to experience via court order. Client described the events that led her to being incarcerated, and after confirming Therapist’s confidentiality policy, spoke about the crimes she committed, including details about the intersection of her family and romantic life. Client was resistant to therapy at first, but seemed to warm up as session progressed, and confirmed future attendance to seven more mandated sessions, although hinting at the possibility of upcoming events that might affect that schedule.
Diagnosis:
Z65.3: Problems Related to Legal Circumstances
Z63.8: Other Specified Problems Related to Primary Support Group
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