Disclaimer: As always, I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, and nor do I make any profit from this story.
Author's Note: Apologies for taking so long to update this story. Needless to say, this story isn't abandoned. It's just slow-going and unfortunately, real life has been a real stinker for the past few months. Hopefully (tentatively) things look like they might be improving.
As always, a huge thank you for favouriting this story to: Aelin08, AndrianaWarrior7, Bryan Brolsen, Dianne060807, Femmefanficfreak, Hoegh, Jake.K, KOriginalAddict, LilyInTheValley, LovePearls, MeliaAlexander, Okitta, Poisoninja, Queenofapples, Raikiri's Edge, RavenGirl7, Rosalie end Jacob, SUNSHINGIRL, Sblck, Sithlord king, Slayer6nf, Soaring Hawk1, TaniaMalfoyFelton, Tatah Nunes, The-Raving-Cheshire-Cat, The Magnetic Witch, TheMoonsAndSuns, Zexs, .1992, betterjocelyn, cat105, daenerys and khal drogo 4ever, devilsmaster2, iron aegis, jannah1200, jjcoolblue, justaddyoghurt, justenb7, kristiwildangel, laila95, lightwalnut64, marcuscaton, minoming, nivedtaja326, purplepam, rwils127, slytherinking1333, shin18theOtakubooklover, ssjj, sylvanxia, tricia911114, xSilentSakurax, and yankessegirl.
A huge thank you for adding this story to alerts: 4md, AbraxasLD, Aelin08, Ambers Black, Bryan Brolsen, Carbacki23, Clue Magic, Connected-by-a-Semicolon, Daisy96, Dianne060807, DrVegeta, Elizaar, Evaline101, Femmefanficfreak, Firefly-class, H. Junker, Hilarion27, Hoegh, Hofelmon, InnaraLee, Jake.K, LiveInDifferentWorlds, LovePearls, Majandra.21, Marfo Faura, MeliaAlezander, Meresgerr, , Okitta, RavenGirl7, RenlysRoses404, Sblck, ScorchXM, Sithlord king, TaniaMalfoyFelton, Tatah Nunes, The Chaotic Scribbler, TheDuchessOfTheStory, The Magnetic Witch, Thedevilmaycrie, Vlh1, Yellow-Phoenix25, .1992, annabellecutie, betterjocelyn, bigdog666, btstfn, cupcakecult, daenrys and khal drogo 4ever, emrysmerlin, inkheartmagic, jannaj1200, jasonxo, justenb7, krishachheda, laila95, leezee, lilly127, marcuscaton, mickeiblue, niveditajka326, ow07103, pahwinchester, revanchist131, rwils127, saltyrhoynar, shin18theOtakubooklober, slaterbug, sorel y, toejam18, xSilentSakurax, xXDarknessFallsWeRiseXx, and yellow14m.
Reviews to those I can't reply personally:
Elissa – better late than never. And I am definitely not abandoning this story. I hope you enjoy reading this latest chapter.
Guest – I know it seems out of the blue… But there is a reasoning behind it all. It'll come to light sooner or later (probably later, at the rate this story is developing. I think it will be a lot longer than I had initially envisioned).
Ann: Elia still has time. Remember that she's just gotten married and entered a new household, one that she knows has bad blood with her mother, and just found out that she's pregnant. It's a lot of changes all at once.
As always, reviews of any kind are always welcome. Loved something or hated something, please let me know what you think of it.
Birds Flying High
Seven nights after her grandmother's arrival, Elia was permitted food. It was limited to fruits and vegetables, all of which were cleaned and peeled by Ingrid alone before Elia ate it raw. But after a week of only drinking juice and months of vomiting every mouthful, this felt like blessings from the Seven, the Warrior included. Elia was slowly becoming less breathless with the meagre distances she could now manage. Her fitness had never been as vigorous as Oberyn's, but it had become worse than Old Granny Haas', that old witch.
Even Cersei's tantrums couldn't disrupt Elia's great mood. Vengeful triumph was its foundation, and her improving health was better than spitting in Cersei's face. It was exhausting, certainly, but with her grandmother beside her and Tywin acknowledging malevolence directed at her, Elia felt more certain of support, if not safety. But oh, how exhausting the tantrums were. How did Cersei have so much energy to throw into each perceived slight? If she turned such energy into achieving something worthwhile, something good, the world could have been so improved.
It wasn't just her improving health that soured Cersei's moods, although Elia was more certain of Cersei's loathing each day. Something had spoiled between Jaime and Cersei; he kept his distance from his sister, though he hadn't returned to Elia's side, except for one feeble presentation with flowers. Elia had thrown those into the fire as swiftly as she had the last ones. It was Cersei who now tried to cajole him to no avail.
Tywin Lannister was up to something. Elia was finally confident that it wasn't against her. He seemed genuinely irritated by somebody trying to harm Elia, or rather her baby.
'He takes family obligations very seriously,' her grandmother told her, understated. That was something they both understood, and furthermore, valued.
Things were improving, leaving a sense of optimism akin to euphoria within Elia, but even so, she couldn't bring herself to forgive Rhae Dayne. Elia wouldn't forgive such a large insult, nor such a betrayal. What sort of woman would judge another so harshly? Rhae may have been Dayne in name but there was nothing of Dorne within her. She was little more than a spoilt Targaryen princess. Elia had no patience or sympathy for such people. Rhae and Cersei could make a matching pair!
Bélen had worsened, saccharine sweetness coating her smirks. She played the role of migniard well, crowing her victory subtlely whilst carefully maintaining her dainty front in front of the Lannisters by birth. Elia wanted to snap her thin little fingers one by one and crush her tiny body into dust with her bare hands. The highest of courtesans in Dorne never showed such presumption or arrogance. A common light-skirt like her shouldn't behave in this way, and she hated Jaime for heaping such humiliation on her.
That night, she sat at a dinner more formal than those she had become accustomed to in the past week. The Lannisters, all of them, were present. Conversation flowed as much as the wine did, the finest of Dornish Red savoured by all. When the sweet-dishes were laid on the table, Tywin cleared his throat quietly, and the table hushed.
'It is my pleasure to announce that my daughter has received the distinction of being invited to join the Queen's retenue,' he revealed. Even Cersei hadn't known; she pinked pleasingly. 'We will miss her, but such honour cannot be dismissed, and she will leave us day after the morrow. Genna has kindly agreed to chaperone her, whilst I am needed at home.' His eyes found Elia's.
'What do you mean Jaime isn't coming with me?' Cersei snarled gracelessly at her father as he watched her dispassionately.
'If my place is waiting the birth of my grandchild, where do you think his place is?'
'With family that matters,' Cersei snapped back at him, beginning her pace around his solar again. Once, Tywin had hoped that all this pacing, all this screaming, would have tired his daughter enough to shorten these crude fits. He'd long learnt not to nurture such hopes.
'With the implication that I don't matter?' His voice was colder than the ice that surrounded the Starks, warning her. As always, she didn't heed them.
'Yes,' she tilted her chin out challengingly, eyes flashing with turbulence that Joanna's had never held. How was she the daughter they had produced? This feeling of failure soiled him so, so he shrugged it off. He didn't bother slapping her; it seemed to have little effect on her.
'This is the reason why I am sending you away,' he said, at long last, letting the silence drag on until her nerves had frayed themselves further. His pampered selfish daughter deserved this much, this fraying of her nerves as she had frayed those around her, but also his honesty. 'You are stupid. Unless I send you away, I fear the stupidity and selfishness will consume you.'
'How dare- '
He interrupted her dispassionately. 'You are self-centred beyond excuse. To think highly of yourself, as a Lannister, is understandable. It's right and proper. To think only of yourself, not your family, not your name… That is unforgivable.'
Her breasts were heaving from the strength of her emotions. Her father eyed her again, coldly. The cold sunlight that permeated his Solar glinted off her hair like spun gold, casting an angelic tinge to her skin. She was a beautiful girl, she was indeed. She wasn't as stupid as he had claimed her to be, not yet. Not if he could salvage it. But she lacked what Elia had, what Daella had… She could only ever see the worth within herself, never of those around her. She would certainly think of how they could benefit her, but she never had worked out to make those around her wish to aid her. Elia and Daella could and would and did manipulate those around them, but they also did so with an awareness of what it would mean if those others took offense.
'I thought you wanted to become Queen one day?' He asked her at last, the flush receding from her chest. 'Is that no longer your greatest wish?'
'Of course, it is,' she said so contemptuously that he believed it as the truth. Something lifted off his chest. There was still time to salvage her; had something trivial like love or Jaime been of most import to her… But they weren't. A blow to his pride would hurt, but it could be the making of his legacy, Cersei. Jaime and Elia could handle themselves; certainly, they would not ruin the family name as his father had done. Cersei was the gamble.
'Then see it as a challenge to become the Queen you ought to be,' he told her slowly, watching for her reaction closely. She had vainglory in abundance, and appealing to it made much more sense than appealing to her kindness or sense of decorum… He frowned again. Yes, he had erred in her upbringing, but if he couldn't mould her into what she needed to be, he would discard her far away, where she wouldn't taint the family name beyond the minimum.
Jaime avoided Cersei, but he couldn't refuse her their last night together when she entered his room. The passion burnt hot and fierce. Yet, for once, it felt wrong, empty, and he couldn't work out why. Worse, he had nobody to talk to. Who would accept him with his forbidden sins?
He sat beside Elia when they broke their fast, avoiding both her eyes and Cersei's. He missed her warm smile, her softly caressing eyes. He missed her. And though she was in the right, his pride prevented him from making sincere overtures.
'You are the reason my mistress is leaving, Dornish snake. You've poisoned My Lord's mind and you'll pay for this, slut,' the words were almost too low for Jaime to hear, but he did. The sudden rush of anger brought his fists before him, recoiling after reaching Bélen's cheek, her face flushing red and then white, as she realised she had been overheard. He ignored Elia's eyes, piercing black with glitter of a hundred suns, or were they tips of poisoned spears?
'Would you like to repeat that, so that your Lord may hear how concerned you are for his well-being?' He spoke in a voice that rang throughout the Great Hall, drawing his father's attention intentionally.
'I highly doubt he would appreciate being thought feeble-witted enough to be swayed so easily, even by a Dornish Snake,' Elia hissed with malice, enjoying the serving girl's blanching. Jaime couldn't fault her for it.
'What is this?' His father's voice, spoken so softly, carried to all. 'Am I being accused of being feeble-witted, Good-Daughter?'
'Not by me, Good-Father. I would never dare to presume I could sway your mind or manipulate you,' Elia replied promptly, her eyes never leaving the red-headed girl. In the meagre sunlight, the shadows played across her face like demons, a vengeful one. Something hot within Jaime coiled and curled. His sweet little wife, he knew her to hold a grudge, but he never knew such sharpness within her, such fangs dripping with venom.
'I see. And who is this…' His father's eyes raked over Bélen's lithe figure callously, slowly, as she trembled in fear. 'Who is this person that deems to know me so well?'
'Perhaps she feels herself entitled to it?' Elia helpfully said. 'She seems to know our family so well.' Said so smoothly, but she still emphasised the ownership, and the heat seemed to flow through Jaime's body, all the way to his fingertips. Fierceness of a lion, venom of a snake…
'Well, this must be rectified. If she knows us so well, maybe it is time that we get to know her as well?' His father was not one to be trifled with and the justice he would mete out would be cruel, that much Jaime knew. 'In fact, I am inclined to suggest that perhaps all of the men should get to know her better. Intimately better.'
She trembled so hard that the bowls in her hands tinkled against each other and Bélen almost swooned where she stood. Elia watched her closely, unmoved by her display, and Jaime watched Elia. With the sun rising higher, the shadow demons had moved away but it shone prominently on the sharp, regal shape of her nose, the cheekbones that were delicate and high, the angles of her face that were yet rounded…
'Perhaps my Lord Husband, as your heir, would like to begin the procession of getting to know her intimately…' Elia said, softly but clearly, no hesitation in her words, finally looking him straight into his eyes. His own flinched away.
His thin lips remained still but there was a deep sense of satisfaction within Tywin Lannister. Cersei hadn't bothered to defend her maid, though the girls had known each other since they were toddlers and he was certain the red-headed bitch was in love with his daughter. More fool her, if she thought her mistress would lift her little finger to defend her. Yes, he was quite satisfied with Cersei's self-preservation and selfishness, though it hadn't surprised him.
Conversely, Elia's rancorous streak and biting words had surprised him, and equally pleased him. She was quiet, well-spoken, always deferential and polite, which were all nice qualities but completely useless if that was all there was to her. The Warrior knew Jaime, for all his abilities at arms, was incapable of guarding his interests. The malevolence within Elia, her calm acceptance of his brutal punishment, and the spite within her words… Yes, she would protect her interests, which would become one and the same as his son's, once she gave birth. That not just pleased him greatly, he found himself beginning to maybe perhaps even like her.
He delayed Cersei's departure by a day. She would attend Bélen's punishment; rape was a small cost for such insolence, and it would warn others who would deign to harm his Good-Daughter and his heir's heir. She didn't protest. He knew she would never think to take this as a warning towards herself, so he offered it to her in the simplest terms. 'If anything you do ever harms a Lannister, by marriage or not, you will suffer worse than her.' He looked at her unwaveringly until she finally looked away but she remained composed. She had many flaws, but her nerves of steel he could admire.
He didn't blink when, with the cold light of dawn painting the skies a blood-stained colour and the faces an unearthly pallor, Elia Lannister and Daella Martell arrived. Rhae Dayne had claimed headaches and tiredness and whichever ailment came to mind. Tywin paid her no heed. Nor did the other Dornish women. Emma Vaclav, Hermione Wickaninnish and Willamina Wickaninnish, along with the other Dornish maids and serving girls, stood a little behind their ladies of greater prominence, firm and tall, their faces resolute. There was solidarity there, women who would be loyal to his Good-Daughter and Grandson. He hadn't considered it appropriate previously but perhaps wedding the higher-born of the Dornish women to his bannermen, or better, those whose loyalty he wished to obtain, could benefit him.
Tyrion stood beside his Good-Daughter, leaning towards her wide skirt a little. He was too young to participate in the punishment, if he could at all, and all were aware, but it was clearly Elia's doing that brought him here. The slanted glances thrown at him persisted, but where a year ago, he would have shrunk entirely behind the skirts of his Nursing Maid, he now faced them with uncertain result. The slanted glances, too, were fewer in number – his Good-Daughter's doing. He would have to watch his Good-Daughter's influence, particularly over his youngest son.
When all of his men at arms had arrived, he nodded to his Jaime, white in the watery sunlight, the wind whipping his long, golden hair around him. He was too far away to have his expressions dissected but his father stood beside him, saw the resolute shape to his chin, his lips unyielding and firm, for once. Tywin saw his eyes sweep the spectators, pause over a pretty face, one that stared unflinchingly, before he resumed the duties he had been given this chilly morning.
Bélen was silent by the end of her ordeal. Blood and filth surrounded her. Still, Elia found no sympathy to spare. There was no doubt in her mind that the maid, in the loosest sense of the word now, had had a hand in poisoning Elia and her babe but on whose orders? After closely observing her husband, she was equally certain that he hadn't done so. If Tywin Lannister was innocent too, that left only one possibility.
Cersei Lannister.
It didn't surprise her. What surprised her pleasantly was Tywin's decision to cart the witch far away. He had made it abundantly clear, for such a reticent man, that it was for her and her babe's health. She was extremely pleased with that.
The nausea was merely a memory now. The sordid and cruel actions today had done nothing to raise her bile or worse. That confirmed, had she needed it, that somebody had been poisoning her. Hopefully she could now return to solid meals.
'Halt,' Tywin's words cut through the wind like a sharpened bow. Bélen was dropped mercilessly to the ground by the two serving-girls who were trying to support her back into Casterley Rock; she lay there trembling. Nobody dared move. Such was the sway that he held.
'Bring him out here.' His voice wasn't raised but it still reached every ear in that chilly day, the wind whipping anyone that braved it. Any other person, and there would have been a swell of conjectures at this words. As it was, nobody spoke. They watched as two men went into the building and dragged out a thin, wiry old man, in pitiful tears.
The weather seemed to hold itself still in anticipation; the wind died down to a weak breeze and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. The old, weak man was a snivelling mess, begging for mercy incoherently. He should've known better.
'This man,' Tywin's voice rang out clearly. 'Was found to be adding crushed shells from shelled fish to the dishes. Small enough quantity for it not to be tasted, but enough for someone sensitive to it to react.'
So simple; not even a poison. Elia felt disgusted by her own weaknesses for the first time. Her own pathetic body had betrayed her.
'What would you do with such a man, Good-Daughter?'
Was it a challenge? An opportunity to prove herself or a ploy to play with her? Elia didn't know. She could only trust herself. The man had turned towards her now, beseeching words slipping out between sobs.
'It is highly unlikely he would do this of his own volition,' Elia shouted to be heard. Her voice was not resonant enough, lacked the natural bellow Tywin's voice had contained. 'It would behove us to monitor for someone higher placed that means us ill.' She kept her eyes trained on this mess of a man. She was too far away to hear any of his words and she was glad of it. It wouldn't have swayed her decision – she was not so lacking in will – but it would have been unpleasant. 'I see no need for treachery in my household,' she said with finality. 'I see no reason to burden other households with weak will or treachery either; it is not becoming in us, as families of character and duty. I would kill him.'
She stepped forward to make true her words. A leader never passed a judgment they couldn't bring forth themselves.
'I shall do it, on behalf of my wife and family,' Jaime beat her to it and Elia let him.
Cersei's voyage began with no great fanfare. The dead man and the wench that was now slowly dying inside Casterley Rock forged a sombre environment. Even Cersei found her spirits oppressed, although this was the very important first step towards her crown.
The atmosphere was no lighter inside the carriage they travelled within. Aunt Gemma accompanied Cersei as a chaperone and brought with her a few other matrons, but none even remotely close to Cersei in age. They were highly impertinent too. They shared smiles they didn't think she noticed when she got frustrated, and they talked to her as you would a child. It was not acceptable.
They stayed regularly at the abodes of their banner-men as they journeyed through the Westerlands, and by the second night, Cersei could bear it no longer. Once she had been settled for bed, she snuck out and knocked demandingly on her aunt's door. The displeasure was evident on her aunt's face when she opened it but what did that matter?
'Your women are behaving like mannerless beasts towards me,' she informed her aunt fiercely. Why did her father tolerate such a dim-witted woman, who couldn't pick up such nuances as these, that were below her very (large) nose?
'On the contrary, niece,' Aunt Gemme spoke with icicles forming in her words. 'They are behaving with great forbearance at your acts of petulance. Can you not act your age for even an hour?'
'How dare you?' Cersei seethed with fury, words forced through angry, clenched teeth.
'I dare easily.' Her aunt spoke easily too, far too easily. Cersei would have words to write back to her father this next morning. 'Your father appointed me your guardian, although nursemaid would probably be more apt. He wants me to teach you basic manners that you lack but he also wants me to teach you intelligence, or failing that, cunning. I fear both might be beyond my means.'
Her aunt looked at her with a sharp glance. 'No doubt you'll whinge to your father in the morning. Please do so; I am sure his reply will offer me far more great pleasure that it will offer you. Go back to your chambers now, and pray that nobody sees you. Not all of your father's gold would save your reputation.' She closed the door without awaiting a reply and Cersei glared impotently at the wood before her.
The following morning, Cersei wasted no time in finding a raven and dispatching a letter to her father. She remained sullen and just courteous enough to her hosts to avoid giving offence. They continued with their journey and she was infuriated to see that her aunt's women noticed no change. Her words were ever icier and curt enough to be rude, when they bothered to speak to her at all. Their behaviour changed not at all. Knowing glances were shared and smirks were ill-disguised.
Two mornings later, on the edges of the Westerlands, Cersei received her reply. The letter was delivered by a maid that Cersei dismissed without noticing her. The writing was in her father's hand – pressed hard into the sheets to leave an impression. It was as her aunt had said and her anger bubbled angrily within her. Her father told her to mind her manners and mind her aunt, and see if she couldn't learn something from her aunt, while she was at it.
Well, she would make sure her aunt learned something too. Making an enemy of her niece would be dangerous, even for her own family, and she would enjoy teaching her aunt this lesson.
