AN: This fic is inspired by the Sansa Lannister series from my other work called "What If". It's weird pair but I wrote it for a friend. Hope you enjoy reading.
Luncheons with their Father was always a solemn affair. No one dared speak without the permission nor made a sound whenever the Lord of Casterly Rock was around. The only noise one could hear were the sounds of the silverware and the soft rustle of fabric from the servants' gowns as they roam around the vast dining hall serving their masters' needs.
Sansa hated the silence. She was used to having her meals with her younger brother, Tyrion, who often regals her with the tales or new facts he read and discovered from the books in the library. Being the Hand of the King, their Father wasn't around most of the times, so they would frequently take their meals in her solar. Sansa likes it that way, only she and her beloved brother, away from Cersei who would most likely spend the entirety of their eating time, scoffing at their youngest brother's stories or watching him with disgust. With Sansa, Cersei would always assert that she was better than her sister in every way possible. Cersei was keen on seeing her fail. She doesn't understand why Cersei hates her and Tyrion, but she doesn't mind and she tries not to let her sister's bad attitude corrupt her and bring her to the same road.
However, when their Father was around, the Lannister siblings have no choice but to interact with each other and dine with the Lord of Casterly Rock together. In some cases, Uncle Kevan and his family would join them. The two brothers will then spend the time talking about the businesses of the realm and of the Westernlands.
Today, their Father asked, ordered, them to eat with him, without their immediate relatives' presence, in his solar after a month of absence. It was a lovely morning, bright and sunny, a good day to have a quick stroll in Lannisport and a family breakfast. There was an unspoken rule in the castle that all of them should arrive at the same time, presentable, no matter how early it is. They would greet their Lord Father first, then they would take their proper places. As always, Jaime and Cersei would sit beside each other at their Father's right, while she and Tyrion took the left, with her sitting much closer to their Father and across Jaime. They will wait for the maids to serve the small feast first, then they will proceed once their Lord Father has given his cue.
The atmosphere today seemed different. It wasn't as tense as usual. Despite her young age, Sansa had taken it upon herself to study their Father's demeanor. Tywin Lannister was a man of few words and even fewer sentiments. His stoicism always made it hard for everyone to know his true emotions, so Sansa observed, her blue-green eyes always noting the changes in his body posture whenever he was with them.
Now, she had surmised that her Father was pleased. There was a shadow of a familiar glimmer in his eyes, one she knew very well and something she hasn't seen for a long time since their Mother's death. The telltale stiffness of his stance was also missing giving away that he may be in high spirits.
His apparent good mood tempted her to ask, the curiosity for reason grew with each passing minute they spent on the dinner table, it was gnawing her insides and she had to bite her cheek to stop herself from voicing out her thoughts. Tywin Lannister doesn't like to be questioned. May it be by his subjects, the King or his very own children.
So she reminded herself that having enough patience would always bring good results. She waited, like a lion looking for its prey, peering through her eyelashes time by time to wait for Tywin to speak.
And indeed, her effort was eventually rewarded when Tywin cleared his throat, demanding their attention. The four siblings immediately stopped eating, dropping the wares, sat straight back, and turned towards the head of the family.
"The King has finally accepted the betrothal between House Lannister and House Targaryen."
The words were spoken carefully and clearly. The news, per se, wasn't unexpected but it still earned their surprise.
It was no secret to everyone, not even to the four of them, that their Father wanted to broker an engagement between Cersei and Prince Rhaegar. As the Hand of the King, her Father was already in control of the realm, ruling in the Mad King's stead. Some people say that Tywin was more powerful that Aerys II, the real King if not by name, for he was the one who truly ruled, kept peace and balance, and maintained the growing economy of Westeros. They whispered that Aerys was jealous of her Father's growing popularity and power that he had continuously rejected Tywin's proposal of marriage, not wanting Tywin to permanently cement his hold on the Iron Throne and the crown. In an effort to rebuff his Hand's advances, the King sent Steffan and Cassana Baratheon overseas, to the East to search for a Valyrian descent Princess fitting for his son. In the end, it failed, no Princess was brought back to the kingdom and the journey cost Steffan and Cassana's lives.
"When will we marry?" Cersei asked, her features changing from that of a shock to something a little bit disconcerting; her red lips were curled in a satisfied smirk and her eyes shone with triumphant glee, the image was a little troubling, Sansa had to look away.
Jaime's reaction, on the other hand, was unreadable. His handsome face contorting, in what looks like pain? Jealousy? He was obviously agitated, his hands clutching the silverware tightly, his knuckles turning white from the intensity of his grip. She wonders what he feels, with his closeness to Cersei, Sansa concluded that he was only being a protective brother, who is concerned about his baby sister's future. But she wasn't entirely sure for she was certain that Jaime won't have the same reaction if it were her in Cersei's shoes seeing that they didn't share the same special bond.
At her side, Tyrion, still young for such discussions, feigned interest. He was a little child, not yet old to understand what these betrothals truly mean. Even so, Sansa could feel the joy radiating from her brother, and she thinks he was more excited with the idea that a betrothal meant Cersei would need to leave the Rock and be out of their life.
Meanwhile, Sansa was not quite sure how to take the news. This, of course, was a huge honor to their house, to be tied to the Royal family, and she was glad for her sister because Cersei will finally have her ultimate dream come true. There, however, was a dark, unwanted part of her that feels a pang of envy.
She only knew Prince Rhaegar by stories and rumors she heard from the servants and her Father's very lips, and all of them were consistent about one thing, Prince Rhaegar was a good man and they are all convinced that he would become a great King someday, perhaps even greater than Jaehaerys I. This jealous side of her thinks that Cersei doesn't deserve him nor the prestige that was coming to her path, King Aerys could have chosen a better maiden for her son. Not someone as vile as Cersei Lannister.
Their Father stared at their sister, the coldness back in his eyes. He only broke contact when he wiped his lips with a red kerchief, one of mother's making, a favorite of his, the golden embroidered lion's head facing them, its bloody eyes almost mocking. When he was done, he set the kerchief aside, returning their sister's gaze, his green eyes nonchalant.
"No, Cersei," their Father started, the smile on Cersei's face faltered. "You won't be marrying anyone as of yet. Although I'm already negotiating with the Martells, the Princess of Dorne is looking for a bride and groom for her younger children, Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia. If we are in luck, we might secure an alliance with Dorne through you and Jaime."
"I-I don't understand," Cersei answered, her voice quavering, the confusion on her face looked so heartbreaking that Sansa almost wanted to pity her. "Y-you said a betrothal between House Lannister and House Targaryen... P-Prince Rhaegar... I-I... I-I thought..." She began to stutter.
Lord Tywin nodded, "Yes, you heard me correctly. The King has agreed to have a Lannister wife for his son, the Prince Rhaegar, but it is not you, Cersei. The King has picked a more suitable choice."
A more suitable choice.
The heaviness of the atmosphere was becoming unbearable as blood has started to rush on Sansa's ears, the white noise deafening. Her heart was pounding heavily against her chest. It was unclear if these were the same remarks that the Mad King had spoken or just their Father's own; the choice of words didn't affect her, but it's underlying meaning.
"No."
It was the word that broke the dam, the tension that surrounded them. The violent screech of the chair against the marble floor echoed in the now silent room. Cersei had stood, backing towards the door, each step taken tentatively, only pausing when she reached the handles. She stared at their Father with disbelief, anger, and betrayal and then her dangerously, narrowed gaze found hers.
The loathing in her sister's eyes caused her to shudder, the magnitude filling her with dread and terror.
"May I take my leave now, Father?"
Cersei had made sure to emphasize every word, her eyes never leaving Sansa's, the sickeningly saccharine voice wrapped with bitterness and hatred.
"Go."
The heavy wooden doors slammed closed and Jaime followed her, never sparing a glance, leaving the three of them, with Tyrion completely perplexed, in an awkward silence. In a normal day, Tywin Lannister would not allow this disrespectful behavior to pass, an indefinite punishment follows to those who dare defy him. It was a wonder that he remained composed up to this point and did not crack at Cersei's defiance. Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat, trying hard not to fidget when he regarded her.
"Don't mind her," Tywin started, this time his tone was softer as he addressed Sansa, almost loving, "She will soon see sense."
Sansa wished she could believe him but knowing Cersei, it would be impossible. Cersei was unforgiving. Sansa had done everything she can to avoid earning her sister's ire. Becoming Rhaegar's Queen was the only thing that Cersei craved and desired and Sansa has taken the chance away, though not by choice, she might as well have signed her own death warrant if she did so. Cersei won't and will never see reason, she will carry this slight to her grave and will do everything in her power to make Sansa's life miserable. In Tywin's eyes, it was only jealousy and mere sibling rivalry, but it was much more than that and Sansa already fears the retaliation that will come.
"Yes, Father." She answered rather than voicing her trepidation.
She didn't mean to jolt when he placed his hand on her own and squeezed it gently. It was abrupt, unforeseen and unorthodox for the Lord of Lannister to do. Tywin was never one to give affectionate touches as far as patting his children on their heads (though it was always Jaime who would experience such treatment whenever he pleased their Father), this action was astonishing, peculiar, a first for her Lord Father.
"You will be a good Queen, Sansa."
It was hard not to miss the quick, uncommon, smile that graced their Father's lips. In spite of the fact it was meant to be reassuring, a sign of pride and confidence for her achievement, Sansa Lannister was too dumbstruck to react. The news was so sudden in addition to becoming Cersei's enemy, and their Father's peculiar show of affection. Her mind, gone haywire by now, has a lot to process, though the implications still remain and the consequences yet to follow.
A Queen, her consciousness repeated; the darker side rejoicing the victory, the logical remaining still.
She was going to be a Queen.
AN: This is probably gonna be a ten-part series with a planned sequel.