CHAPTER ONE
Cersei
He wasn't even there. Somehow, in the middle of her pain, all she could think of was how much she loathed her husband. White hot and searing between her legs, she had been forewarned of the agony of childbirth, but she never expected it to feel as if she were splitting in two. Between short breaths and the midwife telling her to take deeper ones, Cersei shot her a venomous green glare. This was Robert's child. He should have been there with her, holding her hand like a proper husband, and listening to the sound of her teeth gritting as she refused to scream out. The babe would come out and Cersei would live with it.
"You're almost there," Jaime's voice was in her ear as he wiped sweat from her brow. Had he not been holding her hand she would have lost it by now. With the coming of this child it reminded her of her shattered perception of how the world was. She had been hopeful, dreaming, and naive. When she had gazed up at Robert Baratheon the day of their wedding, she had thought he was the handsomest man in the Seven Kingdoms and that she was the luckiest maid. The feeling faded abruptly when he had crawled onto her stinking drunk and called her Lyanna, the dead Stark girl that he had waged a war over.
Had it been too much to believe that he might see past the dead cunt and see his wife? Cersei was the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms and yet he was hung up on someone whose bones were half a world away. The warrior king who had taken the throne by force was now beginning to wilt away like a flower out in the desert. His solid abs were gone and his hair was becoming unkempt and unruly. To think that all it took was a crown to reduce such a man and maybe Aerys would have given it to him and just waited, Robert would have just dispatched himself.
A childish hope still clung to her, as if this child of his would change his terrible habits. Would he see this babe and melt betwixt her fingers? All of her prayers rode on the offspring of Robert. The creature that was turning her womanhood in a mess. Part of her feared that it would never be the same and she'd just have a gaping hole where it had been. At least Jaime was here. Father had sold her like a goat to a Dothraki. Never. I will never allow that to happen to any daughters I have, she promised.
"Your grace, nearly there!" the midwife told her.
"You said that several times already? Is the blasted thing out yet?" Cersei snarled through her clenched teeth. She didn't need fake encouragement, she needed the child out of her. The contractions made her feel as if all of her bowels were going to fall out on the bed.
"Here we are. Here we-" the midwife pulled something out from between Cersei's legs and an immense pressure left her. Collapsing back into the bed, her golden curls splaying around her, Cersei trembled from the effort as Jaime placed the damp cloth against her brow. He looked so handsome in his white armor, even if she had soiled some of the snowy white with her blood.
"Where… Where is my child?" Cersei demanded. She didn't hear crying. Why was the baby not crying? Fear seized her and she tried to sit up, the pain making her gasp in agony. "Where is my baby?!" she screamed, her eyes like wildfire as she sought out the midwife.
Jaime left her, sensing his twin's desperation. He approached the midwife and bent over her as she had a little body swaddled and just as Cersei was about to weep, a tiny cry fixated her attention. All of that work just to have a stillborn growing within her for all those months. But when Jaime turned around, he had the baby in his arms that was softly sniffling.
"She wants her mother," Jaime told her, arching a brow at Cersei.
A cry choked in the back of her throat as Jaime brought her first borne over. The soft cotton between her arms and when she gazed upon the girl, she espied the dark crown of hair, so much hair. She had grown all of this in the womb? The idea of that made giggle as she inspected the babe from her dainty nose to her chubby cheeks.
"She's got Robert's look doesn't she?" Jaime noted, as he sat on the edge of the bed and gazed down on his niece. Even if he hated Robert, he couldn't hate a baby that had not been asked to be born.
Cersei tickled the baby's nose with her fingertip. The child cooed and blinked open her eyes for a brief moment, they were the bright electric blue that Robert had. No this babe might have Robert's dark hair, but she would be Cersei's daughter. "She has mine," Cersei retorted, tucking some of the hair behind her daughter's ear. "Cirilla. My sweet princess." Even in her exhaustion she had the energy to press her lips the head of her daughter.
I will protect you. You and your siblings to come.
The only of her children that was actually Robert's, Cirilla. It didn't matter to Cersei, she had still birthed the girl, even if she was not fortunate to have Jaime as her father. They all belonged to her pride and Cersei would defend them with tooth and claw. What she wasn't looking forward to was the inevitable marriage of her eldest daughter. Unlike other noble mothers, Cersei had little favor or taste for imagining what kind of match she could make for either of her daughters. Myrcella was too young to consider marriage, but Cirilla was at the pinnacle of betrothal age and she knew it was only a matter of time before Cersei was forced to put her in the hands of a man. Even the idea of it made her skin crawl in disgust. She had promised long ago, at Cirilla's birth, that none of her daughters would suffer a fate like her own. Living a gilded lie. Was it so wondrous to be queen when you hated your husband? Once she had imagined that both she and Robert would make fair rulers, but that had been proven false in the very first year of their marriage.
Robert never listened to her, her words were just whispers in the wind, unworthy of his time even though he employed his foolish brothers to watch after the kingdom for him. No one loved Stannis, though he might have been a good commander. Renly was loved by many, but Cersei could see past the printed doublet and into his narcissistic heart, his lecherous looks at men. And Robert was so blind that he favored the wrong brother.
"Mother, mother Tommen is doing it again!" her eldest son, Joffrey strode in, a magnificent mirror of his father when he had been in his teens. Her golden hair swept across his brow and he wore the finest Lannister crimson, his fair face purpling at the thought of his youngest sibling doing something he didn't prefer. No matter how Cersei tried to reign him in, Joffrey listened to no one. Only Cirilla managed to make the prince catch his tongue from time to time.
"And what is he doing my sweet?" Cersei asked from her lofty perch in the private gardens that overlooked the ocean. A gentle wind tousled her loose hair, a crystal chalice poised in her hand as she enjoyed Arbor Gold that fine afternoon. She ignored the Hound that was hovering closely to her son. Why the boy had such a keen interest in Clegane was beyond her. He was just ugly to have around, but he certainly was up to the task of protecting her beautiful son.
"He's taken my practice sword to the yard with Uncle Jaime. And you know that it's mine," Joffrey snarled, his handsome features marred by the fury that clutched him.
"Haven't you outgrown that sword?" Cersei asked him, recalling the aluminum sword he was referring to. The light weight and balance made it easier for a child of Tommen's size to heft and the aluminum meant it could be gilded in silver, gold, and platinum like a real sword.
"It doesn't matter," Joffrey told her thinly. "Is Casterly Rock not your home? Wouldn't you be upset if someone stole that from you, even if you don't live there?"
Cersei couldn't suppress a chuckle at him, he gave her a dithering look as she laughed in spite of this plight. "I do believe that the whole of Casterly Rock is a bit different from a toy sword, Joffrey. Let your brother have that one and I'll have a real sword made for you."
Joffrey was still sulking, but he pulled the chair out across from her. "A real sword?"
"Yes, befitting for the crown prince. Design it however you like and it shall be made," Cersei promised him.
Joffrey snorted and poured himself a cup of the expensive vint in front of him. "Has father told you?"
Cersei stiffened at the mention of her king husband. "Told me what?"
Bright green eyes sparkled in delight of knowing something his mother did not. What would he tell her? Did she know that he frequented his bed with whores? That the last time they really had fucked it had been years ago? Did he tell his son how much he hated her? "We're going North to entreat Lord Stark or something," Joffrey waved his hand dismissively as he sipped at the wine.
"Not too much before lunch, you'll spoil your appetite," she chastised, half in thought as she pulled the flagon away from him. "When did your father mention this?"
"This morning. He summoned me to talk about how Eddard Stark has a daughter about my age. Then he began talking about Jon Arryn and how he trusted 'Ned like a brother'," Joffrey rolled his eyes.
Why have I not heard of this? What good are all of these eyes and ears if they don't hear about the biggest details before my son? She forced a smile on her face. This was not new. She had been well aware that Robert had wished to replace Jon Arryn with Ned Stark. However, she doubted that a Stark would travel south, especially seeing what had happened to three of them nearly two decades ago. If he intended on making the journey to Winterfell, it was to assure that Eddard would return south with him.
"And when did your father plan to inform me?" Joffrey probably did not have the answer for that, but her bitterness consumed her as she sloshed the wine around in her glass.
"Likely tomorrow when he planned on departing. All of us are to go," Joffrey shrugged, heat touching her face at his nonchalance. Cersei was the fool in this situation and her son was feeding her the pieces like singular grapes, seemingly enjoying that Cersei was cross. "I may have told Ciri and Myrcella in passing."
"Wonderful," Cersei spat, her relaxing morning ruined by news that the entire royal family was about to be uprooted. Did Robert not see how dangerous that was? They had no protection and moving the entire family made them huge targets. Sure, there was no war to worry about, but who was to say that there weren't Targaryen supporters out there waiting for the perfect time to slay the Usurper and his spawn? Worst of all, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen weren't even his children and they'd be killed all the same.
Sweeping herself out of the chair she left the chalice on the table and moved like a dervish back up to Red Keep. Her tempers were flaring and when one of her dreaded handmaidens asked her if anything was needed, Cersei didn't hold back the hissing. She'd always despised the servants getting in her way. At this point in life, she only tolerated her eldest daughter's assistance and often lit all her own candles. The stupid misty eyed girls of the south from some petty lordling did nothing but irritate her temper.
"Mother," while in her vexation, she passed Cirilla, who was sitting on a marble bench by her favorite hydrangea bush which was blooming in a vivid periwinkle. "I see you have heard the news," she snapped the journal on her lap shut and joined Cersei.
"Going north to Winterfell with the whole family? Is your father mad?" Cersei spat furiously.
Cirilla cocked her head and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Eh, you know that is debatable mother."
"If he wants to go, let him, but taking Joffrey as well is dangerous. Uprooting you all for such a long and pointless journey…"
"Why, do you really think Eddard Stark will decline father if he goes there in person?" Cirilla arched a dark brow at her.
"I could care less. I just care about the wellbeing of my children and this whole debacle puts you all at risk. What is in the north that would really warrant bringing the whole family?"
"Oh, but the northerners and their summer snows mother!" Cirilla spoke in a girlish, cherubic voice that was filled with hope and wonder, even though she was clearly making a mockery of the very idea. The Lannister glanced at her daughter and couldn't help but breathe a laugh. Sometimes I think Tyrion spends too much time with her. As much as she loathed her brother, Cirilla was not a coddled or foolish young lady. Unlike her sheltered siblings, her bright blue eyes saw the truths around them. Cirilla knew that her father was not loyal or that men truly had good intentions. The romantic novels about knights being kind and courteous only betrayed a sliver of the truth. Men only wanted one thing and Cirilla was blatantly aware of that. She'd witnessed her father and uncle's lechery. "You know father will want the eldest to go."
"Blasted fool," Cersei grumbled. "And have you heard of when he intends on moving everyone?"
"Joffrey said tomorrow, but requisitioning the moving houses, horses, and supplies might take the better part of the week. That is unless Lord Petyr or Lord Varys can work magic overnight," Cirilla brushed off.
"You almost sound eager to go," Cersei remarked, looking over her daughter. Cirilla was a tall, slender young lady whose hair was an inky black. Her days in the sun had awarded her with the lighter shade and tanned skin, a trait that Cersei wished she would reverse by staying inside more, but Cirilla was willful. Her long hair fell loose most often, subconsciously parted to one side, flipped over as she ran her fingers through them while she read. Her brows were dark, her eyes sultry, her lips turned in an effortless pout. Her cheekbones were smoothly hewn as if they were marble and Cirilla had a natural smolder that had men soiling themselves over her attention. If anyone outmatched Cersei's own beauty, she would have said it was Cirilla or Myrcella.
"And go somewhere cold? You know how much I love to bask in the warmth here, mother."
And slip into Flea's Bottom when I'm not paying attention, Cersei wanted to quip, but she harped upon her daughter's roguish tendancies enough. Between Cirilla's gambling in the slums of King's Landing and wearing men's clothing every chance she got, Cersei was just thankful that the young lady hadn't gotten herself killed. If Cirilla had a father like Tywin, she would have never gotten away with half of the mischief she accomplished, but Robert thought it was amusing that Cirilla could slide in and out of the castle without being noticed or missed. And when Cirilla turns up dead, he'll certainly wish he heeded my words.
"I should ship you to Dorne. The manner you act, you'd fit right in among the Sand Snakes," Cersei muttered.
"Are you certain I'm not one of them?" Cirilla smirked.
"I recall pushing you out of my cunt," Cersei told her chiperly.
"Uhg, don't mention childbirth. You remind me how close it looms to me," Cirilla shuddered at the idea of having to eventually perform her womanly duties.
"Life as a lady is certainly not all dice games and gambling away the crown's money," Cersei informed her sikily.
"I don't gamble it away, I win it back mother," Cirilla quipped. "And I make certain no one cheats me. I've put a dagger in a few who thought they'd get away with faux dice."
Even if Cersei did not approve of Cirilla's hobbies, she did approve of her ability to defend herself. Cersei had always wished to wield a sword, to fight the wars like Jaime. Often she thought that their genders should have been reversed. She was so much more clever than either of her brothers or father. Only she had been cursed with a cunt. Cirilla didn't let that slow her down and Cersei love that about her. It was also the root for much of her fear regarding the girl, but she hoped that Cirilla would teach Myrcella a thing or two about hiding knives in her gown. Princesses were prime targets of men who thought they were important enough to stick it in one. Cirilla's skill had already proven useful once before when a hedge knight had cornered her during a tourney. Due to how loud it had been, the crowds cheering, no one would have heard Cirilla's screams. Not that they needed to, because Cirilla had shoved the dagger right up his ass.
A rather choice place, but Cersei was overjoyed that her daughter had not been raped and the man who attempted it had been sodomized. She thought the punishment fit the crime and the man didn't keep his head too long after that. However, she took great gratification in knowing that he'd suffered until the end.
"Are you going to speak with father regarding the trip?" Cirilla asked.
"Where else would I be heading in such a fury?"
"Several places," she shrugged the nonchalance slipping away immediately as Myrcella and Tommen tottered into view. "Wow, I heard you were learning how to fight today? Are you going to be a knight like Uncle Jaime one day?" Cirilla bent down to embrace her pudgy brother, tousling his golden curls as she greeted him.
"Tommen did very good. Uncle Jaime said he is lasting long and just needs to work at it everyday," Myrcella informed them with a timid smile at her mother and sister.
"Incredible! One day you'll be just as good as uncle. Then you can protect all of us, right Tommy?" Cirilla tucked some of Tommen's long hair behind an ear.
Tommen gave a sheepish smile and buried his face into Cirilla's shoulder, tangling it in her dark hair. A sad smile touched Cersei's lips. If only Joffrey fit among the children as well as these three meshed. He preferred to estrange himself and would tolerate Myrcella, but often found himself tormenting Tommen. Cirilla acted as the buffer, the eyes for when Cersei was not around. As a woman fully grown and princess, she had no fear of her younger brother or his idle threats. The Hound wouldn't harm a hair on her head and her reprimands seemed to work better than Cersei's.
"Mother, I heard we were going north. Is that true?" Myrcella questioned politely.
"Your father and I are still discussing the matter, but that seems to be the plan."
"Really? I've read that Winterfell has enormous walls. Two of them, with a moat in between," Myrcella recited.
"Don't get too excited. Nothing is set in stone," Cersei reminded the golden haired child lightly.
She caught the look that Cirilla threw at her, a small look that doubted Cersei would be able to prevent Robert from the journey he had planned. Once Robert had set his mind on something, there would be little they could do to sway him. To Robert, the coin always existed to whatever he wanted. By now the crown was severely in debt to the Lannisters and the Iron Bank.
"Cirilla, see that Tommen and Myrcella get a good lunch. I'll meet with your father."
"Are you certain mother? Myrcella could handle Tommen on her own," Cirilla's presence did make Robert more tolerable, but Cersei didn't intend to always have her daughter covering for her. Now, this was her bone to pick with Robert.