A little cunt, that's what he is, Mara thought, her anger roiling in her stomach. Her brother, Joffrey, was once again torturing a fool, making cruel jokes and poking him with the short sword the prince thought he was manly enough to wear. "Would you stop that, you insufferable beast!" Mara finally burst, feeling sorry for the fool who was trying desperately not to cry. "You've tortured him quite enough for a day." Joffrey glared at his half-sister but waved the fool away, mumbling he was bored of the japes anyway. With the whole court looking at her, the princess rose and heard the footsteps of her personal guard, Daryn Oakheart, ringing behind her. "Daryn, please ensure that poor fool gets as far away from here as possible. Give him gold and a horse for the journey to Casterly Rock, where I'm sure he will be better treated."
"At once, my lady," Daryn replied, loyalty seeping through his pores. The knight had been the guard of Mara since he was a boy of ten and fifteen and she a babe still suckling on her wet nurse's teat. From the moment he saw the baby with dark hair and Stark grey eyes, he knew he would give his life if it meant she lived.
"Thank you, Daryn. I find I'm quite tired, I shall go to my bedchambers." She didn't need to look behind her to see her knight's low bow and the hint of pride on his face, for his princess once again standing up for the downtrodden and misfortunate. As she rounded the corner, she crashed into her uncle by marriage, Jaime Lannister, a cocky smile on his handsome face.
"Apologies, my princess, I was just hearing tales of how you saved a fool from the clutches of our sweet prince."
Mara resisted the urge to scoff. "If Joffrey is sweet, then I'm Visenya born again." She tried to edge her way around the knight but he blocked her way, smiling down at her. There was something in Jaime's green eyes, something that was always there when he looked at the princess.
"If I recall, you are much lovelier than dead Visenya."
"If I recall," Mara replied sweetly. "You weren't born then. Or were you? Perhaps you're old enough, Gods know you look it." As Mara left Jaime behind her, she felt a twinge of guilt. It was unlike her to be intentionally cruel to someone. Even though she was as headstrong as her father, the King, she had made it her life's mission to make the world a better place for the misfortunate. However, the more she mulled over it as she climbed the steps to her personal tower, she decided she didn't feel nearly as bad she supposed she should. Jaime Lannister was always making crude, suggestive jokes to her since she turned twelve and she lost her baby fat, making way for a curvy, lithe body that singers made songs about. Her hair that used to be scraggly and unmanageable made way for pure black locks, silky and shiny. And her eyes… her eyes were grey, her mother's eyes. She could tell that it pained her father to look into them, to remember his lovely Lyanna before she died.
Her bedchamber was large with yellow furnishings to remind her of her house. But if someone were to look closely, they would see hints of grey in the decor, a homage to her mother's house. Mara called to her handmaid, Prya, a pretty girl who was a close friend of the princess' and asked for a hot bath full of oil to make her skin smell beautiful. The princess slipped into the hot water and relished in the cleanness she felt, the dirt of the Lannisters seeping from her skin and into the bath. It wasn't long before a knock at the door interrupted her joy and she reluctantly let Prya wrap a gown around her soaking body and let the person in.
"Ah, uncle, it's a pleasure," Mara spoke truthfully, always happy to see Tyrion Lannister, the only one of his house she could stomach. "Come in, have some wine."
Tyrion gave her a small bow and waddled on his small legs to the table which held the rich wine Mara was accustomed to. "Thank you, princess. Is this Dornish wine I taste?"
"It is, my lord. I have barrel sent over from Dorne every year." Tyrion nodded his appreciation of the fine drink and sat down on a soft couch, covered in cushions. Prya quickly brushed Mara dark locks before they dried and secured the gown with a soft, silk belt. Mara smiled at the handmaiden and the girl knew she was dismissed, exiting the room with a small bow to her mistress. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sweet uncle?"
"I've come to congratulate you on your outburst earlier today, but I also came to warn you."
Mara sipped from her own goblet and ate a small piece of cheese from the plate in front of her. "I can deal with anything Joffrey throws at me."
Tyrion nodded. "But can you deal with your step-mother?"
"I see," Mara said. "So Joff once again went running to his mother, clutching at her skirts and demanding his mean sister be punished?"
"You have the right of it," Tyrion replied unhappily. "The queen is angry with you."
"If I had a gold coin for every time your sister was mad at me, I would be richer than your lord father." Tyrion smiled at that, knowing it was true. Cersei despised her step-daughter, angry that she was the king's favourite and daughter of Robert's one true love. It made her even more livid that Mara looked so much like her mother with her Stark grey eyes and thick black hair. "She may be the queen, but she forgets that my father is the king and the most powerful man in Westeros. Cersei Lannister cannot hurt a single hair on my head."
Tyrion gulped down his wine and poured another cupful, ready to drink before he told Mara the news. "I fear she can hurt you in other ways." Mara raised her eyebrows and stared at Tyrion, waiting for an answer. Tyrion hated hurting the sweet girl, so wilful but still young and naive at ten-and-seven. "She plans to marry you to my brother, Jaime."
The princess looked too shocked to speak, her empty goblet spilling from her hands and landing on her lap. "You are playing a cruel joke."
"I fear not, sweet niece. Cersei has demanded you marry Jaime so we can further our ties with your father's house."
Mara gazed down at her lap and seemed to notice the goblet but did nothing about it. "He is my uncle by marriage, it isn't right."
"The Targaryen's used to marry sister to brother." Tyrion pointed out.
"But I am not a Targaryen!" Mara shouted, standing up, her small height still towering over Tyrion. "I am a Baratheon and a Stark. I shall not become a Lannister simply because your sister is angry with me." She sat down again, trying to calm her thoughts. "What does my father say about it? Surely he cannot mean for me to marry a Lannister? He told me long ago that he planned to wed me to someone from House Martell." Mara had been looking forward to going to Dorne where the people were kind, happy and free, the land beautiful and always warm.
"Your father agrees, though reluctantly. He fears for his relations with my house and believes that another marriage could help."
Mara always thought it unfair for parents to arrange their children's marriage, but this was another level of cruelty. She was to marry the Kingslayer, a man more than half her age. A thought suddenly crept into her head. "Jaime is part of the Kingsguard, he cannot marry."
"He has agreed to leave the Kingsguard so he may marry and become heir to Casterly Rock," Tyrion said. "I can assure you, Jaime will never be cruel to you and you will like Casterly Rock, it's very beautiful."
Mara felt as though she would have cried had she not been so shocked and angry. "I don't want to marry Jaime, I am to marry a lord in Dorne. I am to spend my days in the sun, watching children play in the cool lakes and listening to the exotic birds all around me as I sip my favourite wine." Her future had been so certain, so concrete and now she felt it melt away from her.
Tyrion watched the princess' misery in silence, knowing she was in pain, knowing no words could comfort her. The Imp had no idea why his sister had demanded the marriage as he had a sneaking suspicion that both his siblings were lovers also, his niece and nephews born from incest. But he knew better than to say such things and he knew nothing good would come out of this marriage…
