Sad and Lovely with Bright Things In It
DISCLAIMER: No character, novel or franchise used or referenced belongs to me, no money is being made from this.
*Author's note* So I posted this all in one block earlier even though there were huge chunks missing, but I've decided to fill those gaps so here's the final thing ^^ New and improved (well, at least in SOME places...) and now six-ish chapter thingy - so I hope you'll enjoy it!
Obviously, all the quotes in the beginning of the chapters are from Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, which was a MASSIVE influence on this fic, as well as these songs:
- Lana del Rey's Off to the races (you'll actually find literal quotes from these two works of art in this fic, kudos to you if you can spot them (margaritta already found the Lana del Rey one in the first draft)
- Florence + The Machine's Breath of Life (for that gorgeous dizzy breathless athmosphere it creates)
-PROLOGUE-
"Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth –
but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget:
a singing compulsion, a whispered "Listen," a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour."
WILLAS
[three months to the election]
.
"Who do we have here?" he asked and stared down at the three pictures on the desk. The man wore an expensive suit, some Italian designer at a guess. Going by his greying hair, Willas would have said he was in his mid-forties, but his face looked younger. Something about the way he held his cigarette made Willas think of cocaine addicts, but the signet ring, the tie pin and the expensive watch said politician and he didn't think that those kinds of things went together.
The girl was very pretty, big blue eyes and thick, auburn hair. Her clothes were expensive and spoke of excellent taste, but something made him wonder if she really chose them herself. She was photographed in mid-motion, taking off her sunglasses in the first, getting into the man's car in the second. She had a certain elegance about her, like some kind of dancer, and a very beautiful and very strange smile on her lips.
"That's one of the candidates, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing unnecessarily towards the photograph of the man. "What's his name again?"
"Petyr Baelish. You'd do well to remember that, Tyrell, he might be your next prime minister," said his new chief editor in that condescending tone she never seemed to get rid of.
Willas forced himself not to roll his eyes, nodded and took up the second photograph, eying the couple closer. She was young enough to pass as his daughter, early twenties at most, but that was quite obviously not the case. Mr Running-for-Prime-Minister looked at her like he'd had nothing but bread and water for years and she was an exquisite five-course meal, but she didn't seem to care about that. Again, the way she smiled – it looked well-practised, not necessarily dishonest, though. He couldn't make any sense of it.
"And the girl?"
"Sansa Stark. She's his-" Cersei Lannister sighed and ran a hand through her golden curls. "God knows. We're still trying to find a fitting term. She's the female version of a boytoy, if you want."
She sounded even more condescending now.
He put the picture down. "What else?"
"Well, if you dig deep enough, I'm sure you'll find more than enough juicy stuff to make something good out of it," she answered, clearly done with the conversation, but he wasn't.
"If he's a politician, I won't find much. Meaning I'm supposed to write a big article about two people we basically know nothing about?"
She rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you're writing for a tabloid, not the bloody Times. Make it up if you have to."
Willas groaned as he watched her go. What kind of advice was that? If he made something up, he might end up getting the bloody prime minister very cross with him, and he figured that would not be good for him at all.
No, everything he wrote had to be properly researched and Cersei had known that all along. God, he hated her already.
Please take a moment to review.
