Losing Touch
After
The taste of blood was bitter on her tongue, but Alys kept her countenance, her expression empty of emotion. Cersei stared down at her, towering above Alys, her face furious, complexion utterly devoid of colour. Ever since her husband had foisted his bastard upon her, only mere days after their wedding and bedding, Cersei had hated Alys on sight, seeing her very existence as an insult. As the seasons spanned years, time had only served to strengthen Cersei's hatred, a mere glance from Alys enough to send Cersei into a senseless rage.
It seemed like only yesterday to Cersei, that she had been summoned before Robert for a private audience with him, only to find Robert sitting astride the Iron Throne, dandling a baby on his knee, a child with his black hair and blue eyes, plainly marking her out as a Baratheon bastard. Appearing oblivious to Cersei's state of shock, Robert had coolly said he would be raising his daughter in the Red Keep, that he would not make her an unwelcome ward, instead emulating Eddard Stark's example of taking sole responsibility for his seed.
At this, Cersei had choked out what of the other seeds he had sown? Would he make a fool of himself even further by welcoming them all within these walls? Robert had merely frowned, running his large hand over the child's dark head, the gesture surprisingly protective. Cersei had then drawn the skirts of her gown around her, nostrils flaring, sneering at Robert how she doubted the castle could contain all his bastards, and she for one would not stay to find out; that she refused to be insulted anymore than she was now.
An ugly argument had followed, a fight Robert had finally won, Cersei capitulating against her will, finding herself up against a force greater than any she'd ever encountered before. She saw Robert was a creature of caprice, and the child was but a whim; that he would acknowledge one bastard but ignore a hundred others, just because the fancy took him. Already she had observed that Robert would be morose one moment, then smiling the next, bestowing favours in the morning, then withdrawing them in the afternoon. When he was in his good moods, he was like a roaring fire, drawing all near him, high and low, and she too had been dazzled by Robert, but no more, learning too late that he was in love with a ghost and not the living girl he had taken to wife, elevating Lyanna Stark above all others, even as he indulged himself in amorous affairs he didn't trouble to conceal from Cersei's sight.
When Robert had first reluctantly taken responsibility for the child's welfare, he had made plans to farm it out to some obliging noble family, paying for its keep to keep it out of his sight. He'd had a notion to offload it back onto Ned, a sort of petty revenge since he blamed Ned in the first place for the predicament he found himself in, but the child's piteous plight had sat strangely uneasy on Robert's cracked conscience. When Ned had almost nervously offered to make the child a ward of Winterfell, doing exactly what Robert had originally intended, Robert had surprisingly refused him. The baby was pretty and placid, something in its wide blue stare appealing to Robert's sentimental streak, making him feel generous towards it. So when Cersei had threatened the child, do as you please, but you may find that the city is not a healthy place for a growing girl, he had brutally raised his hand to his new bride, setting the precedent for their marriage.
So the child had stayed, Robert naming her Alys, even as he did not name her as an heir. She grew up in the shadow of the Iron Throne, trying and failing to stay out of Cersei's path, realising at an early age she was the queen's implacable enemy, only understanding why when she was older. Many an eyebrow was raised at a bastard being openly raised alongside the royal golden-haired children Cersei had presented Robert with over the years, Alys as different to her brothers and sister as night to day, but the threat of Robert's wrath was enough to silence all on the subject.
His attitude towards Alys had faded to an absent-minded affection, displayed by a fond but forgetful pat on the head or the present of a fashionable gown that didn't fit, Alys oddly existing in his eyes only if she was right in front of him, almost having to prove her presence. To Robert, she was all but useless, but his trueborn children were equally disappointing to him; Joffrey the most, whilst Tommen was too weak and girlish for Robert's taste, Myrcella a simpering miss, only fit to marry off to the highest bidder.
As Alys blankly held Cersei's gaze, the history of the long years of enmity hanging heavy between them, the older woman's jaw tightened, her fist clenching again in involuntary reflex. She had just returned from a clandestine rendezvous with Jaime, when Alys had passed her in the corridor, her head proudly raised as any princess's, something in her stance irrationally incensing Cersei, and she had attacked Alys, striking her hard across the face, cutting her lip.
"How dare you?" Cersei hissed as she circled Alys. "How dare you?"
"How dare I what?" Alys said quietly, only for Cersei to suddenly seize a handful of her long dark hair, dragging her upwards so they were eye-level.
"How dare you even breathe?" Cersei spat, green eyes blazing like wildfire."Your very existence is an affront" -
- "Fighting over me, ladies?" Jaime said smoothly, making Cersei abruptly release Alys, all too aware of the undignified picture she presented, brawling like a tavern wench.
"Do not flatter yourself, dear brother," Cersei said from between gritted teeth, "I was merely enforcing my maternal duty. As you know all too well, Alys needs instruction, especially when it comes to knowing her place."
Jaime shot Alys a sympathetic glance, holding her gaze, making her cheeks colour hotly. He knew Alys nursed an immature infatuation for him, and it amused him to make her blush with his two-edged compliments, enjoying infuriating Cersei even further, his sister sometimes getting on his last nerve no matter how much she held first place in his heart above everyone and everything else. Alys was young and threatening to be fair, the combination of her jet hair and indigo eyes already starting to attract attention, her burgeoning beauty only serving to increase Cersei's antagonism towards her. Even as Cersei outshone Alys, it was a reign that was running out of time, Cersei's smooth skin slowly losing its lustre, the bright glory of her golden hair faintly dimming.
"What do you want, Jaime?" Cersei said coldly, drawing herself to her full height, eyes narrowing. "Why do you seek to delay me?"
"My darling, don't you know?" Jaime said mockingly, shooting Alys a sideways smile, making her flush hotly afresh. "And there's me thinking you were the fount of all knowledge. I would swear you knew everything that happened in King's Landing before it actually happened" -
- "Get to the point, Jaime" -
"Jon Arryn is dead," Jaime said with a strange smile, "may his soul rest in peace."
Convince me that the truth is always grey
Caress me in your velvet chair
Conceal me from the ghosts you cast away...
