Everyone knew that Harrenhal was cursed, just as everyone knew that House Whent would be dead within a few years, but that didn't stop them from flocking to the tournament there anyway. People would have been kidding themselves if they said that they attended to look at the majesty of House Whent, when in truth they were going to look on the Dragon Prince, said to be one of the most striking men the realm had seen in centuries, and his soon-to-be lady bride who was said to be the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Those motivations were just as true for the "lady-bride" herself. As Cersei Lannister rode towards Harrenhal that day she felt a tiny twinge of fear in her gut. The last time she had seen the prince she had been dressed in clothes stolen from her brother and practicing with a light wooden sword in the gardens of the Red Keep, thinking no one would spot her. But Rhaegar had found her, and that had been the last time he had seen her for four years. Needless to say, she had not wished to leave him with the impression that she was anything less than the beautiful Queen she was expected to be, and not the scrawny, boyish child she had seemed. But it couldn't be helped then. Now it was Cersei's chance to prove him wrong, a chance to prove that she could be the queen she needed to be.

Jamie rode up besides her, looking beautiful in his usual gold and red. Part of Cersei was angry that she would never see him again in those colors. Only white from now on, the color of purity and virginity, neither of which could ever describe her brother.

He smirked at her, "Come sister, why such a long face?"

Cersei tossed her long golden hair down her back. "I don't have a long face, I'm just thinking."

Jamie raised his eyebrows, "And what would my sister have to think about? About what color red to wear on which day? Or how best to make the common people adore you?"

Cersei wrinkled her nose at her brother in mock anger, "I'm thinking of ways to make Prince Rhaegar see me as a woman and someone worthy of being his Queen." Of course, she knew that that would bother her beloved twin, and despite the things they had told themselves in the many nights they'd spent together, there were more important things than their love. Truer things. Like the love of a Prince. Or a King for his Queen, as Rhaegar would be in a few years.

Jamie started and pulled up his reins then set off at a quick trot to catch up with Cersei as she pulled ahead.

"Love you? You want him to love you? Why on earth do you need him to love you? You already have my love, isn't that enough?"

Cersei shook her head and regarded her brother. She swallowed the echo of sadness as she beheld this boy, soon to be a man, who had been her lover for so many years. Yet part of her knew that if Rhaegar loved her then she would be happier, and so it was with pride and just a bit of scorn that she responded to her brother, "He is to be my husband and I am to be his Queen, so if you would kindly shut up about it, and get over it, yes I do want my husband to love me so that I can have a chance at happiness."

Jamie looked at her like a wounded puppy dog, "What about me? Won't I be enough for you?"

Cersei looked at her brother and felt a great weight in her heart. "But Rhaegar will be my husband and the greatest reward a women can have is the love of her husband." Gods, she sounded like the septa she had so long despised growing up.

Jaime quieted at her comment, not sure what to say when faced with Cersei's indomitable pride. Of course, he wanted her to be happy and to be loved, but he wanted to give her that happiness, not this Prince who had ignored them growing up, and had so often brushed Cersei aside. How could he make her any happier? Before he could voice his concerns, however, their father rode up demanding that she get into the litter so that none of the noble lords would see Tywin Lannister's daughter riding about on a horse like some wildling girl. Compliantly, Cersei retreated to behind the veil of her litter.

The noise increased as they drew closer to Harrenhal, and Cersei's stomach churned a moment before she contained herself. She deserved to be here, in all the splendor her family could provide. Possibly in less than a year she could be their Princess, and she would be revered. A little thing like nerves wouldn't get in the way of that.

To many the tourney at Harrenhal was an excuse to see the pageantry of the ruling families on display, and to join in a moment of revelry in the midst of the Summer peace. As much as peace was safe, it was a boring affair, and watching a joust was a close to a war as many believed they would get. But there were deeper motives at play, known to a select handful in the upper echelons of Westerosi society. To them, the tourney was the cover for a meeting the Prince had finally had the gall to call.

Rhaegar Targaryen was not a man that most dared cross. When he was a boy he had been an avid reader and all that he had wanted to do was become a scholar like Bealor the Blessed, but then he had learned and he had grown, and now he was not only a scholar but also a warrior and a Prince. The Crown Prince. He was a man to be feared. That didn't mean the conversation he was about to have didn't unnerve him slightly. Lord Tywin Lannister, along with Lords Doran Martell and Mace Tyrell were waiting for him in a small room off in a corner of the great ruin. Rhaegar knew that he should have asked a Stark, but they were too invested in their damned honor to agree to a plan like this, and so he would have to wait. He entered the room to find all of the men already there and standing around a table, except for Doran Martell who was already seated.

Rhaegar coolly examined the men facing him; with a small half smile curling up the side of his face, and then spoke in a drawling voice, his long strides carrying him to the chair at the head of the table.

"Well gentlemen we had best get on with this meeting, my father will realize at some point that I am not, precisely, where I should be."

Mace Tyrell laughed nervously while Doran simply leaned back in his chair. Rhaegar was more invested in watching Tywin. The man was looking at him coolly, as if he were already making calculations for what could be gained or lost by what Rhaegar was about to suggest. But that was the Lannisters for you, everything in cost and benefits, brilliantly strategic and cold. Rhaegar figured that only Tywin had any idea what was happening and that although Doran may have some idea, Mace was clueless.

Tywin took a seat at Rhaegar's right while Mace moved to the only remaining seat.

"I can guess that you all have figured out exactly why I asked you to join me today." He began, resting his long hands together and folding each finger over the next slowly.

Mace continued to look confused while Doran nodded absent mindedly. Only Tywin answered him directly. "Obviously."

Rhaegar nodded and then began to speak, carefully gauging all of the men's' reaction to his words.

"My father has sat on the Iron Throne for 19 years and thus far his reign has been competent if only for the reason that his hand was able to restrain him. Now we face two small problems, the first concerned with only you, Lord Tywin. I know that you are upset at your sons' appointment to the Kingsguard, but after you left your position, well…" he paused only to sigh and stretch out his fingers, "The past few months have not gone well. My father was once a good and kind man I like to believe, but over the past few years that has begun to change. I know that he was always an eccentric man, but things have gone to far. He seems to believe that everyone is out to get him or about to betray him for some reason or another. He has become fascinated with burning prisoners instead of merely beheading them, and the men for the Kingsguard have told me that he often says the same thing in his sleep over and over again, 'burn them, burn them all.' I have come to you today with a proposal that I need each of your help to execute. My father cannot be allowed to sit on the throne of the Seven kingdoms for much longer. I would ask your assistance in removing my father from the throne."

The Lords were silent for a moment. Of course, it was exactly what Tywin had expected to hear. He had been the hand to hold back the King for many years, and knew of his...ailments. "I don't believe this is a new issue, entirely," he spoke flatly, proudly although he was addressing the Prince. "It is something that has been an ongoing problem, one that took much effort to restrain." He frowned at Rhaegar, not betraying his intentions just yet. Of course, the King needed to be removed, and it wouldn't be a bad decision for his own family, considering his daughter was set to marry the prince, and would make a favorable Queen. "Of course, removing him without causing a great upset is a rather cumbersome problem. I suppose that is why you're requesting our assistance?"

Rhaegar nodded, sitting up more as the old Lion spoke. He had feared the man as a boy, but much less so now. "Yes. I don't think we can simply...remove him." He made sure his voice didn't falter, having thought much over this particular aspect of the problem. King Aerys, father or not, was no longer a good man nor a good King. Had he not been King, they would have been at this point ages ago, had kinslaying or regicide been any easier Rhaegar would have already removed his father. "He needs to die, inconspicuously, and preferably accidentally. We can't risk the threat of causing a rebellion or weakening the power of the Throne."

"And you propose we pledge our allegiance to you, here and now?" Tywin asked, still placid as if he were discussing the latest harvest or sales.

"Yes. As the next in the line-"

"I don't mean to question your legitimacy." Why would he, when he stood to purely benefit, "merely your intent at this meeting. We can hardly kill him now."

"Oh." The Prince faltered a moment, his old apprehension around Tywin returning. "I understand. Yes, I think that would be the right course of action, and we could move most speedily past this, without incident."

Mace for the first time spoke up. "Prince Rhaegar, don't get me wrong. I think that you are a good man and would made an able king but what you're suggesting, well your grace, it's regicide! One of the worst crimes."

Rhaegar leaned forward, smirking. He had expected this reaction from this man and knew exactly how to play him. "Tell me, my lord, if you had a man who had confessed to a small crime of stealing some weapons to protect his shop, what would you do to him?"

Mace shrugged, "Have his hand cut of I suppose."

"Yes, that would be the logical course." Rhaegar leaned forward, "My father had him roasted slowly over the spit as if he were a cow or a lamb because some voice in his head said this man was a traitor. He said that all the traitors must burn. He says everyone must, so tell me, my Lord, do you think that everyone should burn?"

Tyrell's face had become white as snow. He spluttered for several seconds before answering, "No my lord, I do not."

Rhaegar shifted his attention to Doran who was still silent. "And what do you think, my Lord?"

Doran look up and regarded him for a few moments, stone faced and unblinking. "Well the only logical course here is to get rid of him, my Lord. I doubt there could ever be another."

Rhaegar nodded, "Good, then if you wouldn't mind swearing oaths, my lords?"

Rhaegar left a few minutes later with a satisfied smile on his face. He had what he had come here for, now all he needed was an opportunity to kill the king.

Outside the meeting room, the action of the tournament was commencing. The arrivals of Prince Rhaegar and Cersei Lannister (a mere hour apart, though the two weren't seen together once. In fact, Cersei had yet to be seen since her litter pulled in) had ended the waiting for those attending the celebration, and now the revelry was set to commence. Of course, the women rarely watched the jousts themselves unless a favored knight or lord was participating, and considering the Prince wouldn't be jousting until much later, most of their attention was elsewhere.

That was certainly true for Cersei, who was too busy contemplating if the dress that had been chosen sent the right first impression. She didn't want to be too scandalous, or appear too easy and common. But at the same time there was an expected amount of youthful decadence and frivolity… it couldn't be bothered with now, considering she was already in the seats appointed to her family. Jaime was nowhere in her sights, most likely he'd already found a knight to play squire to for the day. Which left her alone in the stands, staring out at the crowd and fastidiously avoiding casting her gaze to either the Baratheons on her left (she could feel Robert's eyes on her… it made her skin crawl) or the Starks on her right.

"Robert why don't you slide down the bench a little so I can sit next to Lady Cersei?" came a woman's voice from her left. A woman with dark brown hair and grey eyes took the seat that had just been vacated by the Baratheon lord.

"Hello Cersei."

She sighed, turning her head belatedly to look at the woman, if you could call her that with the simple way she was dressed, at her left. "Lyanna," She nodded, knowing who she was from her looks alone, even if she'd yet to properly meet her. Her expression remained cool and aloof though, and she kept the appearance of being too good for the conversation.

Lyanna seemed completely oblivious to Cersei's tone, smiling warming at her. "Tell me, Cersei, have you and Prince Rhaegar set a date yet?" Cersei felt a little taken aback. "Oh, don't worry I'm sure there is no pressure, but I heard that he had a meeting with Doran Martell and they say that Elia Martell is one of the most beautiful women in the Seven kingdoms."

Cersei didn't miss the meaning behind her words, and had she been more like the sigil of her house a snarl would have risen in her throat. But she held back, smiling coolly. "Considering my father was also in that particular meeting, I can assure you Elia was not the topic of discussion. The same is often said of me after all, maybe you as well," she arched a brow, "Though I haven't heard."

Lyanna looked at Cersei with a cool gaze that spoke of northern frost. "Yes and the same is often said of Catelyn Tully in the Riverlands and of Queen Rhaella in the Crownlands, we are each the most beautiful to our own people. Of course there is the fact that Rhaegar is an older man and most likely doesn't want a blushing maiden in his bed, and I'm sure Elia is not a maiden. I have heard they are much freer in Dorne. Tell me Cersei, do you think you could please your royal husband?"

For a moment the young lioness was silent, and tempted to leave the conversation before she let her tongue slip. But she was not one to back down from a fight or admit defeat. "I'm not one to blush," she told her with a small smirk. "But I don't think your question is one appropriate for such a public setting, do you? Although, given your companion," she inclined her head in Robert's direction, "I suppose it's something you speak of often?"

Lyanna laughed, not the dainty one that high ladies often used about each other but a real laugh. "Oh Cersei, we are women, we don't get to chose who we marry or what sort of men we spend our lives with. We are not mistresses of our fates. But," she lowered her voice, "I will admit that my husband is not the most proper in his deeds, but then again who said I am either." Cersei's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Back in the north they said that I was half horse, I believe the Stormlords think that I am all horse."

"I can… hardly imagine that is something to take pride in," She muttered, shaking her head. As brazen as she and Jaime were, and as much as she often used her beauty to get the things she wanted, she was raised to be a lady, to be a Queen, and she was surprised by Lyanna's frankness. "Though manners must be a different matter entirely in the Stormlands." Her gaze flitted back to the Baratheons and she scowled.

"I wouldn't dare speak ill of my husband or his bannermen. But I will say that in the north there would never have been so much blindness in following a liege. In the North honor and respect are something you earn, though in the South it seems to be rather… different. More about blood than deeds, more about name than manner. Do you find this to be true dear Cersei?"

"You've seen little of the South," Cersei replied smoothly. "And I find manner and blood to be equally important. Ones understanding of honor may influence that, however. There is more respect here, I think." She regarded Lyanna closely for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you miss the wildness of the North? The Stormlands are wild themselves."

"Well I know that in the north a man would not leave his position because his son was given a great honor, and a younger son would have to do as heir instead." Lyanna's gaze was pointed. "Although I think we may have very similar conceptions of honor when it comes to husbands. I do not miss the wilderness of the North, that is not what I am drawn to, no rather I miss the freedom. There I could control my own fate and I was no man's slave."

Her expression shifted from offense to surprised pity, and then back to it's glacial mask. "Am I to infer that you consider yourself your husband's slave from that?" She opted not to speak to the criticism of her father, though she could make mention to him of the way his decision was viewed. But the notion of being a slave stuck in her head, even if she had not been afforded many freedoms in the last few years. She had been invested in becoming a proper woman, a proper queen, and rarely resented the lack of control, believing she would gain power in the end. The notion of that proving false was unnerving.

Lyanna looked straight ahead pretending to watch the joust, "And tell me Cersei, if you had my husband then what would you consider yourself? And no matter what, we women are slaves, we spend our time preparing to give men sons and to sew in some room in his castle for the rest of our lives, tell me, how would you think of yourself if you had no free will? Why do you think all young girls are so attracted to all the songs, the gallant knight who saves the maiden from the boring life as some mans lady wife, tell me that doesn't sound appealing."

Cersei's lips pursed before she followed Lyanna's gaze to the men charging at each other on the course, lances dropped to pierce armor… or not to, really, although that would make for a much better show. Her thoughts turned macabre, her stomach dropping. Of course, she had considered the songs, and some more childish part of her still believed that her marriage would be like them, just as she had as a girl who drew herself on the back of a dragon. She rallied after a moment, "I hardly think that taking to our duties makes us slaves. And isn't it better to marry a high lord or a prince than a common man, and be burdened with poverty and too many mouths to feed, along with the monotony? A husband who loves you and enables a small measure of power is better than that." She sounded like her septa again, but those words she had to believe. "You have free will, Lyanna, if not as much as you did back in Winterfell."

Lyanna seemed to tense for a minute but Cersei couldn't quite read why. "Your septa has taught you well Cersei, but tell me, has she taught you about what its really like to lie with a man? What its like when you are beneath him and he has full control and nothing you do can make him stop? When he will take what he wants no matter what? Do you know anything of lying with a man, dear?"

The scene Lyanna spoke of was nothing like Cersei recalled with Jaime, unless she requested it from him. And even then she had control. She couldn't not speak the truth. "I couldn't exactly tell you if I did, can I?" She waited, seeing Lyanna look surprised and then shake her head, and then dropped her voice so she wouldn't be heard. "I know what it's like, well, in fact. But I have not found it to be like that at all."

Lyanna smiled, "Then the man you chose to lie with loves you well, or he cares for you deeply. A man like Robert might profess love but he will always take what is his and view the women as a slave. Maybe Rhaegar is different. If so you are a very special girl, and lucky. But I must ask if you are not a maid, what do you plan on telling your husband the morning after?"

Cersei nodded to her words, knowing that that very well may be the case. "Not all men are like Robert," she murmured, before blushing and glancing at Lyanna. This was one consideration she hadn't thought of yet. "What do I plan on telling him the morning after? Why would I need to tell him anything?" She looked confused. "I can shed a few tears if he needs that much convincing in the act, but I don't see why after...?"

"Oh child, either your septa taught you nothing or you are purposely ignoring this. A woman bleeds the first time in a way that she will never bleed again. I have heard of girls who break their maidenheads horse riding, but is anyone likely to believe that with you?" Lyanna shook her head in exasperation, "your father should have taken another wife so he would at least have someone to teach you all this! You need to fake it, Rhaegar is rather experienced from what i have heard, and so I would recommend that you think of a solution and fast."

She swallowed and tried to think back to the first time she had fooled around with her brother that way. "I don't recall that part..." She murmured quietly, "but you're sure he'll expect it? I'm sure not all girls bleed...and not all men pay attention. I could just distract him and make sure he doesn't think of it. It would hardly be hard. And it would be better than lying to him." She frowned sharply. "And don't call me a child."

Lyanna smiled, "Until a man puts his cloak around your shoulders promising to protect you, you are a child. As to the other issue, you may be able to distract him that night, but what about the next morning! The castle servants, not to mention your husband, will expect blood on the sheets."

Cersei frowned and pressed her hands together in her lap. It wasn't her fault her father desired her to wait before she married the prince, or that Rhaegar was more indecisive than she would have liked. "Then I'll fake it. I'll wake up first and cut my palm or something to make it look as though I bled." She kept her voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

Lyanna nodded, "Smart, but cut somewhere he won't see for awhile, where none will see. And you have to make sure you can fake virginity in the bridal bed." Lyanna stopped seemingly lost in thought for a minute, when she spoke her voice was soft, "Do you love Rhaegar the way you love the man who took your maidenhood?"

She nodded, waving her hand to the first piece of advice, "obviously." She looked slightly concerned though. "Fake virginity? As in pain? I already said I could cry. And of course I love him. I love him more than..." She caught herself, grateful she hadn't revealed her brothers name and that he hadn't overheard. "He'll be my husband. And the king."

Lyanna suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, "As I said before it is not the title which makes the man. Just because Rhaegar is a prince does not mean he is a good man. Even if Rhaegar has never taken a maiden into his bed he has been trained as to what to expect. Crying may be enough."

Cersei cast her eyes to Lyanna with a glare. "Do you truly think such a beloved Prince could be anything less than a good man? He's not the King." But he could be, Jaime's warning nagged at her mind. She didn't want to be like Rhaella. "And didn't you agree I could distract him?"

Lyanna looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Of course you could distract him," she leaned in close to Cersei's ear, "the trick is to make it believable." she leaned back and looked toward the far end of arena, where a knight in silver armour had just road into the tilts. "And it seems, dear girl, that our dragon prince has arrived."

Cersei's attention immediately snapped to the far end of the tilts, and a softly smug smile settled on her lips, all thoughts of Lyanna far from her mind. That magnificent prince was all hers. A sort of childlike giddiness unfurled in her heart as she watched him ride closer, standing to join the fanfare at his entrance.

In the haze of the jousts Rhaegar let his mind drift from matters of the court, focusing on his opponents. Of course, the ever-present roar of the crowd was always on his mind, but he paid them less attention than many of the other knights. He didn't miss the way the women fawned over him when he rode past, or the way they cheered louder for their Prince. Nor did he miss a certain golden-haired Lady, whom he didn't recognize. But his thoughts were never on them long.

The prince suspected that Barristan Selmy let him win, for the knight of the Kingsguard was a much better fighter than he appeared on the tilt that day. However, he was pleased with the result, a clean hit. The later joust, the last of the day before the feast was set to commence, was a much fairer fight. Brandon Stark, cocksure and boisterous as he was, was a good warrior, and he fought well. Rhaegar appreciated that the young Lord didn't weaken his hits or slow his horse simply because he was up against the prince, and they ran three rounds before the silver haired knight toppled the young wolf to plentiful applause.

Though he wasn't fond of feasts, it was his obligation as Prince, he also wanted to see who the women with golden hair was. So he donned the red and black of his house along with the slim silver crown that nearly matched his hair, and made his way from the uppermost tower in the ruin to the hall below. Once grand, on a normal day no room in Harrenhal was much to look at, but house Whent had obviously put a tremendous effort into making it look less gruesome. The myriad of Lords and Ladies mingling and dancing about the space didn't hurt either, and Rhaegar soon found himself swept into one conversation after the next. Better than being dragged into dances with girls barely flowered, desperately clinging to the hope he would find something special in them. Was the prospect of being Queen really worth reducing themselves to objects of a man's amusement? He managed to make his way to the head table, seated between his father and Tywin, albeit there was a seat between them. He assumed one of the other advisers would take the spot once he too made it through the throng.

As he ate, his violet eyes drifted to the crowd dancing, and he couldn't help the annoyance that flared in his chest. The next feast of this sort after the tournament would be his own wedding feast, and if his mother had her way, to a mere child. As rich as the Lannisters were, he didn't see why they needed a more direct allegiance. Tywin acted for the good of the realm, and Rhaegar saw himself as the best choice to lead. Once Aerys was no longer seated on the throne, there would be no need for the marriage. But his mother would not be persuaded. For heavens sake, when he had mentioned in passing that Elia Martell of Dorne was a much more suitable age, a wiser woman who undoubtedly knew more of the world than Tywin's daughter, she had nearly screeched his ear off.

He was distracted from his thoughts, mid bite into a leg of lamb, by the arrival of the golden-haired woman from earlier at the empty seat to his left.

"Father," Cersei smiled, doing her best to seem calm despite Rhaegar's eyes on her. "Not out dancing tonight?" Of course, Tywin wouldn't be, and he merely gave her a raised brow look, a reminder of why she was here. With a breathy laugh she took her seat and spent a minute getting a small sampling of food before she turned to the Prince. "Congratulations on your victories today, your highness." She smiled, more sultry than sweet.

"Thank you my Lady, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name…" he replied. He had a faint suspicion but he needed to test it.

Cersei chuckled softly and put on a minute pout. "I'm hurt you don't recall my face, Prince Rhaegar. I did live in your castle as a child." She sat up straighter and extended her hand. "Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock."

Rhaegar's eyes shot up as he leaned forward, allowing his lips to brush against her hand. It was soft and delicate, not the hand of a girl who played with swords. "You must be mistaken," He said with a smirk, "Cersei Lannister is a little girl who wore her brother's clothes and played with a sword. This cannot be who that little girl grew up to be."

She smirked and repressed the blush threatening to rise in her cheeks. "Oh, I'm afraid it is you who are mistaken. It has been years, my Prince… a lot can change in such a long time. I seem to remember you as far more… lanky than you are now."

"Well if you are allowed to grow up then so am I." He smiled. She was wearing a dress that was of red silk with only hints of gold detail. Part of him knew it was to prove that she could wear his house colors and part of him did note how beautiful she looked in red. "Now tell me who do you think will be winning this tourney?"

Her smirk softened as he looked at her, a light blush creeping up onto the fair skin of her neck. "I don't think anyone would dare take the title from you, my Lord," she hummed, an almost teasing tone to it. "And seeing as you have defeated the only boy brazen enough to do so earlier today…"

"Oh you insult me, my Lady, nobody would let me win, a joust is always a fair fight!" He leaned in with a smirk on his face and whispered, "At least not until I'm king."

She arched a manicured brow and her smirk stayed in place, even as she fought to control her breathing with the Prince so close. "Something tells me that won't be long from now," she whispered, not wanting Aerys to overhear. "But still, those left to compete against you wouldn't dare risk angering the dragon would they?" He used to tease Jaime about that as kids, when they were but six or seven.

Rhaegar tensed a little but maintained his cool composure, his father had taken to saying that nobody should anger the dragon while he was in his fits. Still he kept his eyes fixed on Cersei as he replied in a low voice that bordered on a growl, "No I would hope that they would not. Then again who knows, have you ever seen a dragon angered?"

Cersei couldn't tamp down the shiver his voice sent down her spine, and it wasn't a shiver of fear. "I can't say I have. Nor that I would ever want to." She smiled up at him softly. "It may be an interesting sight, though I will say I prefer you like this, or while playing your harp. You still play don't you?"

Rhaegar nodded, "Of course I still play, and if you play your cards right I will play for you later." Part of Rhaegar was trying to remember that Cersei was still six years younger than he, but the part that didn't care was winning.

She smiled, still making sure it wasn't the smile of a simpering and smitten maiden. Cersei could tell that she was slowly winning his interest, and she didn't want to slip up. "And how do you suggest I 'play my cards right?'" She nearly purred, her emerald eyes still on his.

He chuckled, "Well that would ruin the point wouldn't it. It's rather like a game. You can't play the game if you already know the winner, can you?" His lilac eyes glittered in the candlelight as he laughed.

Cersei laughed with him, shaking her head delicately and smiling up at him. "But you already know the rules of the game, my Lord. Give me a hint, I promise I catch on quickly."

"Tell me, what sort of hint do you want? There are many different ways for you to win, each has its own rules and its own way of playing. You choose which game you want to play and I promise that I will give you a hint."

She paused for a moment, humming in thought. "Well, there are far too many games that we can't play at a feast, are there?" Both their fathers were listening, she was sure. "Why don't you dance with me and we can play there?"

The Prince eyed her for a minute. He normally hated dancing the way that the girls seemed to throw themselves at him on the floor. He examined Cersei; she looked like a proper lady who was always delicate and graceful. He quickly formed and idea and a smile spread across his lips. "Fine, I will dance with you. But there is one little thing that I demand."

With the way he made her wait, her placid smirk faltered slightly, until he agreed. She cocked her head slightly and looked confused. "How Kingly of you." She teased gently, "What is this demand?"

He leaned in a whispered in her ear, "I get to pick the dance."

Cersei looked confused for a moment, before she relaxed and smiled at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "As you wish. I hope you aren't trying to make me trip, my Lord."

He laughed, "I hope you won't." He pushed back his chair and extended his hand. "Come."

She took his hand and followed him as he lead her toward the dance floor. The song had just finished and the dancers were still clapping. They all moved aside for the prince and Rhaegar lead her right to the middle of the dance floor. Everyone else had moved to the edge of the dance floor, more interested in watching than dancing.

He left her there with everyone staring at her. Cersei raised her chin and tried not to blush with so many eyes on her. Her eyes tracked Rhaegar as he whispered something in the ear of one of the musicians before he returned to her.

His hand set her skin on fire as he placed his hand on her hip and she moved automatically to place her hand on his shoulder while he took her left hand in his. There they stood for a moment as the high Lords and Ladies of Westeros watched them, many with a measure of jealousy in their eyes (for either of the pair, in fact. As many of the men envied Rhaegar as the women did Cersei). Then the musicians began to play and Rhaegar pulled her close as they began to dance.

He had picked a fast Dornish song that had them whirling about the dance floor. At first Cersei was tense, aware that this song was not one that a Lady would normally dance to. She almost tripped several times and cursed herself for allowing Rhaegar to pull her into this mess; she should have remembered that he was always pulling pranks on her.

At some point she met Rhaegar's eyes and he was smiling, a smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. Cersei laughed out loud, forgetting that there were people watching her and that her father and brother were both observing her. She let her fear of being improper go, for the moment. All the tension in her body slipped away and all she could focus on was the dance and how close Rhaegar was.

The buzzing of her skin still hadn't left by the time of the final joust, and she sat smirking next to Lyanna as Rhaegar trotted onto the tilts, proud on his white horse. She only briefly cast her eyes to his opponent, the mystery Knight of the Laughing Tree. Everyone seated in the stands already knew who the victor would be.

And hopefully, whom he would crown Queen of Love and Beauty. The series of dances between Cersei and Rhaegar at the feast the first night of the tourney, and their subsequent closeness (he'd rarely been seen without her unless in a meeting or a joust) had all but confirmed that he intended to go through with their betrothal. The rumors of Elia Martell as challenger for Queen had been put to rest. And all eyes were on the silver haired prince as he rode into the arena, the red and gold sash tied over the glinting silver of his arm brilliantly apparent. Even if he didn't need the luck, the obviousness of the Lady of House Lannister's token was rather final.

Cersei simply smirked as the eyes of the crowd flitted to her, but soon collective attention was drawn to the track. Though she was hoping for her Prince to knock this mysterious challenger off of his horse on the first run, she still cheered for the direct hit to the man's helm, grinning from ear to ear. By the second run her grin had subsided to a tight-lipped seriousness, watching Rhaegar take a hit to his face had not been the most enjoyable of sights. The third run had the Lords and Ladies on their feet, leaning over the rails and immersed in the pounding of the horses hooves as they charged at each other. Lances were lowered, and there was a resounding clang of metal as the Knight of the Laughing tree went tumbling off his steed, just barely missing the trampling hooves. After a moment of silence the crowd erupted into applause, roses and other flowers being tossed to the Dragon Prince.

Cersei held the deep red rose to her chest, waiting as Rhaegar circled the tilts and removed his helmet, a bright grin on his face. Once he reached her in the stands her smile grew and she leaned over to hand him the rose. "Congratulations," she murmured, watching his violet eyes, which she'd come to be much more comfortable around in the previous ten days. "I told you you would win."

Rhaegar smiled then turned to his right and accepted the crown of blue winter roses from the squire at his side. He leaned forward and smiled, holding the crown out to her, "My lady, will you let me crown you?"

Of course, she'd been expecting him to crown her, but she still couldn't help the giddiness that leapt into her heart. "Of course, my Lord." She smiled brightly, leaning forward further still. In a few months she would be more than Queen of Love and Beauty, but quite possibly Queen of the realm as well.

Rhaegar watched as Cersei leant forward. He smiled and carefully lifted the crown of roses onto her head. "I name you the Queen of Love and Beauty." Rhaegar said as he winked at Cersei. He wasn't sure if Tywin saw it or not but he could tell that Lyanna had.

Cersei allowed a blush to color her cheeks as he placed the crown on her head, and she wished it were a more private space so she could respond in kind. She settled for a soft smile instead of a soft kiss, murmuring "Thank you" to her prince and returning the wink he gave her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Jaime Lannister had watched his beloved sister flirt and seduce the Price for over a week, offering the silver haired man smiles that in the past had only been for him. Watching him crown her only reminded him of what was to come. He'd be losing her to the Dragon, and nothing could stop that. In only ten days she'd already forgotten him, what would it be like after she was wed? He tore his gaze from her and angrily to the scene before him, where Gerold Hightower had stepped before Aerys and Rhaegar, the later still smirking at Cersei.

Gerold Hightower looked down at the young man kneeling before him. As much as he hated to admit it, seeing this young boy be named to the Kingsguard made him feel old. Carefully he drew his great sword and placed it on the young knight's shoulders as if he were knighting him afresh. "Ser Jaime Lannister, do you swear to: protect the king from harm or threat, provide the same Kingsguard protection to royals, lovers, mistresses and bastards, if so directed by the king,follow orders from the king, other royals, the Hand and the Small Council, serve the king's pleasure, keep the king's secrets, protect the king's name and honour, and maintain chastity. Do you swear to all of this and wish to become a member of the Kingsguard?"

Jaime looked up at the old knight in front of him without a hint of deceit. Yes, his father disapproved of him giving up land and title and his position as heir of Casterly Rock to be a glorified bodyguard, but he was committed to it. Not only because he was one of the best knights, despite being the youngest. But more so because it would mean he would never have to leave Cersei. While she was making her vows to Rhaegar, or would be soon, this was his way of making his vows to her. "I swear." He spoke firmly, loud enough that the crowd could hear, and without hesitation. And the vow was true, though a large part of him hoped the chastity would not be for long once Cersei came to her senses.

Ser Hightower nodded, "Then rise Ser Jaime, knight of the kingsguard!"