The Queen That Was Promised

by AWanderingSoulSometimesLost

AU. 'She couldn't turn out ridiculous in front of him by saying nothing. She had to say something – anything. "Do you…" 'Say something, or he'll think you stupid.' But what? "Do you believe in prophecies?" She blurted out in one breath.' Cersei shares the secret with Rhaegar and everything changes (or turns out just like it was supposed to). I own nothing.

14. XIV

Various shades of blue were slowly creeping across the sky, conquering gold and red on their path to the west like waves of the sea below washed over the shore. Tiny silver stars popped up out of nowhere, one by one, like children gathering to play somewhere forbidden, always looking about, unsure whether the game was worth the risk of being caught. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight – a perfect sunset, one might say.

So different from the night before – in more ways than one.

Serala couldn't tell why she constantly caught herself looking over her shoulder, towards north-east. Duskendale was long gone from her sight. Even if it wasn't, it hadn't exactly been her home. People there held no love for her; neither did she for them. She had no friends there. It had been her husband's home, not hers.

Then again, Myr had also rarely felt like home. Only in those moments when Father had been away on business and Serala and her sisters had had the whole house to themselves. Home was not a place, but a sound. Of all things from her youth, she only remembered the sound of laughter. She couldn't even say whose. Marya's or Laena's or Nyanna's or her own – or all of them.

If I had banished together with Symon, maybe…

She shushed that thought before it could be completed. There was no use dwelling on it. She was to remain in Westeros and thinking about her younger sisters in Essos would lead her nowhere. Even if she'd been sent into exile to Essos, there was no guarantee she would have even crossed paths with any of them or that they would have recognized her. She hadn't seen them in years, since she'd left Myr to marry Denys. Their features were blurred in her memories; she doubted her face was any clearer in theirs.

Denys would one day fade from her memory too.

A twinge of remorse accompanied that thought. Part of her did miss him and regretted his fate. Her life with him hadn't been bad (until the point he'd beaten her half to death, of course). He had been kind to her. He had never forced himself upon her. He hadn't been cross with her because of the lack of heirs. We are both still young, he would say whenever somebody brought the matter up, besides, the thought of sharing my wife's attention, even with our children, isn't really that appealing to me. In a year or two, maybe I will be more receptive to it.

If nothing, she could always count on him to defend her.

Perhaps that was the reason she'd been looking back since the moment she'd ridden out of the Dun Fort with the royal army. She had left the only place where she'd ever felt safe and protected.

Some had armies and thick stone walls to protect them. Some had the intimidating air around them. Some had gold that could buy them protection. Some (like Tywin Lannister) had it all. Her only protection was her wit. Although she did consider herself quite smart, it was a terrifying realization. It made her feel extremely vulnerable. One wrong word to the wrong person at the wrong time and she could lose everything.

"Lady Serala." The sudden call startled her, making her flinch in surprise. Her unhealed ribs protested painfully and she winced, her hand instinctively clutching her torso.

"Pardon me, my lady." The male voice said more softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She turned around and saw Ser Arthur Dayne standing a few steps away from her in his spotless white armour. As her eyes met his, Serala was once again struck by the similarities between the knight and the young king. She didn't know enough about history of the royal family to know whether they might actually be related, but with silver hair and violet eyes, they certainly looked like brothers.

"Ser Arthur." She curtsied as best as she could without subjecting herself to another wave of pain. "What can I…do for you?"

"The king wants to speak to you." He replied as she straightened her back again.

His answer caught her off guard, making her swallow a (hopefully inconspicuous) lump down her throat. What could Rhaegar Targaryen want from her? If he had something against her staying in King's Landing, why hadn't he voiced his objections before they'd left Duskendale?

She forced herself to take a deep breath. She was probably just being paranoid after thinking about what her departure for the capital meant. There was no reason to suspect the young king had something sinister in store for her.

"Well," A smile as wide as her injuries would permit it spread over her face, concealing her uneasiness, "We better not…keep His Grace…waiting."

The Kingsguard gestured to her to go first. She picked up the skirts of her dress and headed for the largest tent that had not an hour earlier been put together in the middle of a valley where the sundown had caught up with them. She strode through the labyrinth of tents, feeling quite a few gazes on her. She was uneasily aware she was the only woman among thousands of men, but kept her head high and walked forward without making eye-contact with any of them. She had to appear distant and untouchable, as though she was absolutely confident none of them could lay a finger on her, because she had the king's or the Hand's protection.

She halted in front of the large, crimson tent that belonged to the king and let Ser Arthur enter first. She used the moment when his back was turned to wipe her sweaty palms against the skirts of her dress and take another deep breath. Everything would be fine; she just needed to remain calm.

"Lady Serala, Your Grace." She heard Ser Arthur announce before he turned to her again and beckoned to her to enter.

She was greeted by the sight of Rhaegar Targaryen sitting at a wooden table, without the crown on his head, staring at an empty piece of parchment before him as if her arrival had interrupted him in the middle of formulating a letter. She curtsied without a sound, but kept staring at him through her eyelashes, waiting for him to speak. After a moment of silence, he raised his head and looked at her.

"My lady." He gestured at her to sit on one of the other chairs surrounding the table.

She wasted no time obeying that command. Since her last encounter with Denys, she tired quickly, as though her injuries were sucking the strength out of the rest of her body and it seeped out through the broken bones.

"Do you want some wine?" The king asked as soon as she sat down.

She nodded and he motioned to a servant, a brown-haired, blue eyes boy a few years younger than him, to pour her a goblet of the crimson liquid. She drank slowly, sip by sip, careful not to spill a single drop. Carelessness would ruin her emerald dress and could perhaps make her lower her defences.

Glancing at the king through her eyelashes, she wondered if that was his intention, if he was capable of such trickery. He was so young, his features still smooth, almost childlike. He wasn't sure how old he was, but she assumed he was at least five or six years younger than her. He was handsome, but between the two silver-haired men that were present in the tent, she definitely preferred the knight. Ser Arthur had something about him that drew her attention and held it, a quiet but undeniable confidence that he exhibited no matter who he faced. He was very similar to the king in appearance, but his posture resembled Tywin Lannister more, even if he didn't sport the sharp edge the Hand's every gaze possessed. Next to him, Rhaegar Targaryen looked…well, not as impressive as he might have if his Kingsguard wasn't so appealing.

Unfortunately, the more fascinating object of her musings had left her sight and she was left alone with the king, save for the young servant. It was for the best, she decided with a brief sigh of disappointment, she couldn't afford distractions anyway.

"How are you feeling?" The king asked kindly, not taking his eyes off of hers, despite the less than attractive state of face. Nobody could fault him for a lack of manners, she would give him that.

"Better." She said softly, lowering the goblet onto the table and intertwining her fingers on her lap. It wasn't exactly true, but he didn't need to know that. "Thank you…for your concern…Your Grace."

He nodded in acknowledgement of her gratitude, but said no more on the matter.

"Lord Tywin has told me you are to become a part of his daughter's household."

He had obviously tried to keep his tone soft, but she sensed a suspicious edge to it which made her more cautious.

"Yes." She didn't nod, keeping her eyes on his instead. "Lady Lannister and I…made a deal."

His violet eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of a deal?"

She thought her answer over as carefully as she could, knowing that too long a silence wouldn't help her. How much should she tell him?

"If I help her…escape Duskendale…she will ensure…I don't pay the price…of my husband's…foolishness." She said, leaving the Hand's involvement out for the time being. She doubted the king would be pleased if he learned what she had promised to Tywin Lannister in exchange for his protection. It would also render the lessons she was supposed to teach Cersei Lannister useless and nothing would be preventing the girl's father from leaving her to fend for herself. "I realized Denys…was fighting a lost…battle, even if…he didn't."

The king nodded, his long white hair falling down on the sides of his face.

"So, your husband's attack on you was not as unprovoked as you made it seem." He said after a brief silence. Softness had vanished from both his gaze and his voice, leaving distrust in its stead.

It took all of Serala's self-restraint not to wince when her heart started pounding painfully against her ribcage. She had to remain calm. She had had a lot of practice in outsmarting boys and this one, even if he was King, was no different.

"I couldn't have…confessed the truth…to you right away," She looked him directly in the eyes; for a moment, it felt strange to defend herself by telling the truth, "I was afraid for…my life. The maester was…loyal to Denys despite…everything. He would have seen…my act as treason…I couldn't risk him…poisoning me under the…disguise of treating me."

The long speech robbed her of strength, but she couldn't afford too long a pause. She still had his attention, so she continued as soon as she caught her breath.

"By helping Cersei Lannister…escape, I spared myself the…fate that awaits every…woman in the aftermath…of a battle." She wasn't foolish to think he'd believe that her actions had been stirred by the goodness of her heart. If she admitted to selfish motivation, he might be inclined to believe the rest as well. "My actions helped…prevent bloodshed and…saved you valuable time…and men. As for Denys…if your father had…lived, he would have…used him as leverage…just as he did with…Lady Lannister. His life…was forfeited either…way."

She took another sip of wine to moisten her dry mouth. There was nothing else she could do but wait for his answer.

His gaze still had a sharp edge to it, like he was observing a puzzle he wanted to solve, turning over each and every piece of her story to see how they fit together. If the solution continued to elude him, she had a feeling he would rather burn the puzzle than let it stay unsolved.

"Was your husband – or anyone in Duskendale – responsible for my father's death?" His voice was admiringly calm, cold as the northern wind.

It would be easy to pin the crime on the man who couldn't defend himself from the accusations, but there was no need for it, as the truth was so simple. Denys could be accused of many crimes, but regicide wasn't one of them.

"Your father died…from his wounds…Your Grace."

His glare washed over her face several times, trying to find indications that she was lying in her features. She returned his gaze steadily; this time she was actually telling the truth.

"And the bandits?" He demanded after a few moments of tense silence. "No-one from Duskendale had anything to do with the ambush?"

"No, as much as I…know." She shrugged her shoulders. She could point out a more probable culprit, but she might as well find a dagger and run it through her heart then. No, she would avoid mentioning the Hand in any context if she could. "Your father was worth more…alive than dead…to my husband. None of…us knew Lady Lannister was…riding with him." None of us counted with another hostage.

The intensity of his gaze lessened a little as he considered her words. She didn't interrupt the silence, letting him realize no-one in Duskendale could have benefited from King Aerys dying within its walls. If Cersei Lannister hadn't been brought to the Dun Fort so swiftly, his death would have just about ended the rebellion.

"But why would a woman of your station agree to such terms?"

Startled, she blinked in confusion. "Your Grace?"

"You were married to a lord and now you will be just a servant." He elaborated, his tone just a tad too deliberate to be innocent.

Unfortunately, she was too clever to fall prey to such an obvious scheme.

"Another one of Lady Lannister's…demands was that I became…one of her maids." She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I had no choice…but to accept."

He paused for a split of a second and his mask broke, revealing his displeasure. Her guess was that he'd expected to learn something useful from her.

"And why was she suddenly in great need of another maid? Why you?" His tone was suspicious rather than mocking, but she still found herself offended. He made it sound as though she was the lowest of scum, unworthy of breathing the same air as the nobility that surrounded her.

Her tone grew colder without her intention. "Her reasons are...her own. She chose not to...confide them in me."

His pale brows furrowed, because of her tone or her failure to answer his question, she couldn't say.

"You must have some idea why she would ask that of you." He insisted firmly. "Something you said or did."

She nearly snorted crossly, but with a sharp bite on the inner side of her cheek, she managed to rein her frustration in. Hadn't it crossed his mind that she had thought every conversation she'd ever had with Cersei Lannister over, trying to realize what lay behind the girl's demand? It seemed he was no different than any man when it came to his views on women. Lack of cock equalled the lack of brain in their minds, which was quite ironic, given what thinking with their cocks instead of their heads cost so many members of male sex.

With some struggle, she managed to retain a calm demeanour and shrug her shoulders again. He could ask as many questions as he wanted, but she couldn't give away secrets she didn't know.

"Maybe she just wanted…to humiliate me." The words came out of nowhere; the thought hadn't crossed her mind before, but once it appeared, it did make sense. "My husband kidnapped…her. Even if he'd…lived, he would have been…out of her reach, on the Wall…in exile or executed…I, on the other…hand, am now bound…to do her bidding…no matter how…"

"No." He cut her off sharply before she could finish the sentence. He said no more, but his eyes burned with conviction. He was absolutely certain Cersei Lannister was above such cruelties.

She wasn't above leaving that boy to bleed out on the floor of her cell.

Serala could tell the young king the truth about the girl's escape, but slandering her wasn't in her interest. He was going to learn eventually Cersei Lannister wasn't as innocent as he regarded her, but he wouldn't learn it from her.

"You will have to…ask her for an…explanation then…Your Grace."

Hopefully, she would be somewhere close by to hear it.

He observed her thoughtfully for a few moments, pondering what to say next. She sat still and waited patiently, a sight of a person who had nothing to hide.

"Why would Lord Tywin allow it?" He said at last.

She raised her eyebrows, indicating a need for a clarification.

"You were married to a man who kidnapped his daughter." He pointed out. "The Hand is many things, but forgiving and trusting he is not."

She couldn't agree more, but she couldn't let him know that. She also couldn't let him know Tywin Lannister's motive for allowing her to become one of his daughter's maids. There was really only one reasonable course of action.

"It is a question…only he can answer." She replied with another shrug of shoulders. "Whatever his reasons…may be, I am grateful…he permitted it. If he…hadn't…" She swallowed a visible lump down her throat, but it wasn't entirely pretence, "I have nowhere else…to go."

His expression softened then, as she'd hoped it would. Little pity went a long way in this sort of games and she would use every bit of it to her advantage.

All of a sudden, he pulled the piece of parchment he'd been studying earlier closer, grabbed a quill and dunk its tip into ink. He wrote down a few words, which she was only able to read after he'd turned the parchment around.

She had clearly misjudged his expression. Whatever feelings the sight of her inspired in him, pity wasn't one of them.

I need you to be my eyes and ears in the Hand's household.

Her heart was thundering in her ears as she read the note one more time, just to be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her.

Not even in her wildest dreams would she have seen this coming. He wanted her to spy on the richest, most powerful, most terrifying man in the Realm for him. He wanted to be sure Tywin Lannister wasn't using his wealth and influence to undermine him. He wanted her to provide him with information he could use to keep the Hand under control. And she was as if made for the task – someone who felt no true loyalty to the House Lannister, whose duty would be to linger in the shadows, always attentive, but never seen. Someone who, as he'd been aware of, even before her confession, had nowhere else to go. If he couldn't convince her to do his bidding, he would make sure she was silenced instead.

Did he not understand what risks his demand held for her? If she was found out…was it even in his power to protect her from Tywin Lannister's wrath? Would he even bother to try?

Perhaps, she mused sourly as he observed the young king, he and Cersei Lannister were made for each other. They were innocent as lambs on the outside, but wolves lurked beneath their skins.

On the other hand, lambs were so easily torn apart. Wolves were survivors.

What choice did she really have at the moment? She couldn't refuse him – there was only one answer she could give.

She nodded.

His violet eyes stared at her piercingly for a few more moments, judging her honesty, her loyalty. Then he lifted the parchment off the table and brought it close to the flame of a candle. As the parchment caught on fire, she caught sight of a face drawn on the other side from the words he'd written. A beautiful woman she didn't recognize.

Who is she?

"You are allowed to retire, Lady Serala." He said, making her eyes flicker to his face again.

The last flashes of softness were gone from his features, leaving only a sharp gaze behind. He didn't take well to her attempt to figure out who the mysterious woman was. The storm in his violet eyes told her it was none of her business.

She knew better than to challenge him. As soon as 'Your Grace' rolled off her lips, she rose from her seat, curtsied and withdrew as fast her legs would carry her. At the entrance she almost collided with Ser Arthur, but she was too distracted by her conversation with the king to appreciate the feeling of his hand on her upper arm steadying her. She only managed a quiet 'Thank you' before she marched away from the king's tent, completely unaware of where she was heading. She could have walked straight into the Narrow Sea or back to Duskendale if a tall figure didn't intercept her.

"What did the king want from you?" It took her a moment to recognize the owner of the voice as Tywin Lannister.

Her heart was thundering in her ears as her eyes met his. Once again, she was at a loss, in a situation where a silence was as much of an answer as any. If he realized she was trying to hide the true reason why the king had summoned her, he would dub her unreliable and worthless to him. On the other hand, if she told him what had occurred in the king's tent, her fate would be irreversibly tied to him. While he was a most desirable ally, did she really want to turn her back on the king so soon? However powerful Tywin Lannister was, it was Rhaegar Targaryen who wore the crown. He was younger; if fate was kind to him, he might live longer.

The answer was right in front of her, yet she was afraid to acknowledge it.

The only way to be sure she would win the game…was to play both sides.

"He wanted…" She breathed in deeply and licked her suddenly dry lips, "To know my reasons…for coming to the…capital."

As she'd expected, his eyes narrowed, betraying his distrust of her. "And what did you tell him?"

She returned his gaze steadily. "The truth." She breathed out. "In a men's world…women must stick together…to survive."

She couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw his lips quirk up briefly at the corners, as if he found her remark amusing – or ironic. It could have just as well been just her imagination; the shadows were already covering a good part of his face and he wasn't known for expressions that in any way resembled a smile.

"And he didn't mind the fact that the agreement between you and my daughter cost one of his lords his life?"

"He did." There was no point in denying that. "But I was kind…enough to point out…that particular lord had…forfeited his life when…he kidnapped His…Grace's father."

The sharpness of his gaze lessened slightly; it seemed her words had managed to convince him she had handled the king's suspicions well. She could still be of use to him, a whetstone that would sharpen the sword whose blade would always stand at the king's back, ready to protect or to strike.

But what if she just pretended to be a tool and took control of the sword herself? What if didn't have to play against the king and the Hand alone? What if she had the future queen at her side, who had as much to gain by beating them in the game as Serala did?

In a men's world, women must stick together to survive. In Duskendale, we survived. In King's Landing, we could do so much more.

"If you will excuse…me, my lord, I would…like to retire."

She doubted she would sleep though. Her mind was already juggling a dozen different ideas on how to influence Cersei Lannister and make the girl dance to her tune. She had been caught off guard by her intelligence once, but she wouldn't underestimate her again. Everybody had a weakness. Everybody wanted something.

"Your presence distracts the men." He stated firmly, just as a group of soldiers passed by, close enough to hear him. "I will not have this army dissolve into chaos because of one woman."

Feeling the men's eyes on them, she bowed her head so lowly her chin came to rest on her collar bone. They saw a repentant woman ashamed of her sex, of being a temptation to the honourable men that surrounded her.

"What does my…lord command?" She asked quietly, even though she could guess the answer. The real question was why. Did he want to make sure she was out of the king's reach…or was his command driven by less calculating motivations?

Without a word, he gestured at her to follow him. He didn't even look back to check if she did. His strides were long and swift and she was forced to half-run after him like a scorned pet following its master, which all too soon made her struggle for breath. No doubt he acted so intentionally. In the eyes of the men, he had to appear above desires of the flesh, like he would only tolerate her presence in his tent for the sake of the peace in the army. Judging by the lack of conspiratorial whispers and laughter, they either decided to save their opinions for the time when the Hand was out of hearing range or they actually believed the sight he presented them.

Once inside the tent, they were served meat, bread and fruit. The servants sauntered around fully focused on their tasks, as though they didn't dare even glance at their lord and his guest. Serala expected him to break the silence at any moment, but he never did. He didn't even bid her goodnight as they strode to the opposite sides of the tent.

She lay down quickly with her back to him and wrapped silken sheets around her shoulders, listening to the sounds of him changing, but managing to resist the temptation to steal a look or two. She wondered if he looked at her, if he considered insisting she changed into one of the nightgowns she had brought with her. He might be the most powerful man in Westeros, but he was still a man. He had desires, urges. Did the thought of her naked body arouse him?

Did the thought of his naked body arouse her?

She shook off the notion before a spark of warmth in her lower abdomen could turn into fire and closed her eyes. She had more important things to think about. Lessons she needed to teach Cersei Lannister. Lesson one: don't get lost in your own deceits.

---

When Grandmaester Pycelle entered the room for the second time that morning, Cersei was on the brink of jumping to her feet and running away, not caring that she was barefoot, wearing only a thin white nightgown and was unfamiliar with this part of the Red Keep. Until he proclaimed her fully recovered, the Grandmaester insisted she remained at hand, so she slept in one of the empty rooms a corridor away from his chambers instead in her own chambers in the Tower of the Hand. She had been confined inside these four walls since she'd come back to King's Landing and had received no visitor (that dared speak to her) apart from the man whose company at this point she could barely stomach. He had no notion of personal space, his breath smelled sourly and his hands wandered over her body more freely than she was comfortable with. He excused it all with his desire to make sure her injuries were fully mended. Cersei knew little of healing, but damn it, it couldn't possibly be necessary that he assessed the rate of her heartbeat by pressing his sweaty palm against her chest five times a day.

"Has my father sent word?" She asked curtly before the man could say anything, not caring that she was being discourteous. Perhaps her rudeness would make him keep his distance. "Is he on his way back?" He better be. I can't stand being locked inside this room for a moment longer.

"I haven't received any word from him, my lady." The Grandmaester's voice sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth (it was impossible to tell with his mouth concealed by those whitening bushes he called beard), but he knew better than to display any disrespect openly if he wished to keep them. "As I have already sworn to do, I will let you know as soon as I do."

By the gods, that condescending tone alone made her want to command his tongue be cut off, so he could never produce it again. It took all of her will-power to keep her fury under control.

He moved further into the room, making her flinch away from him instinctively. "You have visitors." He announced with a note of respect in her tone that, she realized a moment later, was not meant for her. "Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys."

The queen? Cersei's heart started thundering inside her ears, causing a mild headache to spread from the cut on her temple. She was not prepared, not dressed properly, she had no servants at hand to bring them refreshments and with the only furniture in the room being the bed she was sitting on and a chamber pot she couldn't even offer the queen and the prince a place to sit down.

She had half-opened her mouth to tell the Grandmaester to send them away (she didn't care how), but the queen had already appeared at the door, with the young prince in her arms and an affectionate smile on her face, making Cersei freeze mid-breath.

Still in mourning for her dead husband, Queen Rhaella was dressed completely in black, while Prince Viserys was wearing black breeches and a crimson tunic, the Targaryen colours. The black gown made the queen's pale hair and complexion even paler and her violet eyes even more prominent. Surprisingly, there were no dark bags under her them, no new lines on her face, no sign of sleepless nights. Cersei couldn't help but think that the colours of death suited Queen Rhaella; she looked more alive than she'd ever seen her.

"Your Grace." She pushed the sheets off her body hurriedly, rose to her feet and curtsied with as much gracefulness as she could muster in a simple nightgown before the queen could dismiss her gesture with a soft murmur: "Please, don't."

Not knowing whether to obey or not, Cersei shifted her weight from one foot to the other restlessly, trying to keep her feet warm on the cold stone. She swallowed hard, ashamed of being caught in such an inelegant state, on a level of a mere servant girl.

"I…" She struggled to find words. "I didn't…I wasn't expecting you."

The queen seated herself on the bottom of the bed and motioned for Cersei to join her.

"I would have come to visit you sooner, but I didn't want to disturb your rest." She said, placing the young prince on her lap, his face turned to Cersei.

Her movements much stiffer than the queen's, Cersei did as she was bid. The silver-haired woman smiled at her kindly, apparently not taking her appearance against her.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. To Cersei's ears, she didn't sound like she was asking because it was expected of her – she truly wanted to know the answer.

Her sympathy didn't make Cersei feel comfortable though, quite the contrary. The only other person who had ever looked at her with warmth in their eyes was Mother. And thinking of Mother was painful in so many ways there were moments when she wished she could forget all memories of her. It would be easier not to remember her than to have so many questions, so many doubts, so many fears.

"Better." She nodded, her answer belied by the cold feeling of death still clinging onto her skin. She could still hear Joanna's Lannister's emotionless voice, telling her she didn't miss her daughter, that she didn't hate her younger son for killing her.

No, Cersei didn't feel better; she doubted she would ever feel good again.

"I'm glad to hear it." The queen's voice snapped her out of her disheartening musings. She raised her head and saw the smile had vanished from the woman's face, replaced by piercing solemnity. "Now I only wish I could believe it."

Cersei forced her lips to shape a smile, but even if she'd succeeded, she was aware it was weak and unconvincing.

"Thank you for your concern, Your Grace." The cheerfulness of her voice couldn't sound more clearly faked if she was screeching. "But I am fine. Truly."

Queen Rhaella leaned forward, reaching out for her hand, but before she could grasp it, Prince Viserys wriggled in her arms and let out a cry. The queen withdrew at once and her attention shifted from Cersei to her son, leaving the former feeling…abandoned. Angry.

Why did the prince have to cry out now? Why did he have to steal the gentleness meant for her? Why was everyone else more important?

She placed her hands into her lap, away from the queen's reach, and stared at them, so she wouldn't glare daggers at the little prince. She didn't need the queen's comfort, she didn't want it. The snivelling princeling could keep it all to himself. He was just a helpless babe, while she was a survivor of a siege. She was strong; she didn't need anyone.

"It's alright, Viserys." She heard Queen Rhaella say to the boy gently. "You don't have to be afraid of Lady Cersei."

Even against her will, she blinked in surprise and looked to the queen's eyes for an explanation. It didn't make any sense; why would the young prince be scared of her? Was there something wrong…

Tears blurred her sight as a thought came to mind; of course there was something wrong with her, everything was wrong with her. When there was no-one around, she had forgotten what she looked like now. She had forgotten how ugly she was, so ugly she scared children. How would Rhaegar love her like this when his younger brother couldn't stand the sight of her?

"He is nervous around unknown people." It took her a moment to realize the queen was speaking to her and another to realize that she was explaining that…the problem wasn't in Cersei.

Trying not to blink and allow the tears to fall, she made her eyes widen as much as possible. She would not cry. She was strong.

The queen placed a kiss on the prince's temple and ran her fingers through his silver hair, before she looked at her again, her expression almost apologetic. "The only people he doesn't cry around are the knights of the Kingsguard. He is used to them."

The statement sounded wrong to Cersei's ears, making her raise her eyebrows in bewilderment. "And you and Pri…the king?"

"He is shy with me, but not unreachable." The queen shrugged her shoulders. "As for his brother…" She sighed, as though she was in pain. "Rhaegar has been occupied with other matters. They haven't had the time to get to know each other yet."

Cersei opened her mouth and then closed it, confused. How hadn't they had the time? It had been more than a year since Prince Viserys' birth? Who was he supposed to be used to if not his own brother? Jaime had been there her whole life, just Rhaegar had been around since Viserys was born. She couldn't imagine being afraid of Jaime or upset by his presence. Then again, they were twins; their bond was special. Maybe Rhaegar regarded Viserys the way she regarded Tyrion? But why would he? Viserys was…well, normal. A child that didn't look like a monster and hadn't murdered his own mother to come into this world.

"You must find that hard to imagine." The queen spoke as if she had read Cersei's mind. "I remember you didn't separate from your brother when Joanna brought you to court. It was so sweet to see you holding onto each other as though nothing could harm you as long as you were together."

Because it's true. Cersei wanted to say, but didn't. She didn't want to think of Jaime either – because it made her realize how terribly she missed him. When we were together, nothing bad happened. And when I went away, I almost died. I want to see him. I want him to hold me.

"I wish my sons shared such a strong bond. But I don't know if it's possible. Rhaegar is so much older and he is also King." Queen Rhaella sounded sad, hopeless even.

Cersei felt no sympathy; in fact, she was offended by the notion. It could never be as strong as ours. Jaime and I came into this world together. The thought flowed naturally, without hesitation. And we will leave it together.

But she voiced none of her indignation. Besides, the queen admitted it was doubtful her sons would ever become as close as the Lannister twins were. She couldn't truly understand their bond, but she admired it, viewed it as something to be aspired to. Cersei was proud to possess something other people, even royals, couldn't grasp, something they could desire and envy. It made her feel…almost godlike. Even Rhaegar…

But Rhaegar did have, if not a real twin brother, then something close in Ser Arthur Dayne. Their bond went against everything that had been carved into Cersei from a young age – trust no-one but family – yet, strangely so, she couldn't imagine the king without his shadow, as she'd come to regard the knight. Since the moment she had laid eyes on Rhaegar in Casterly Rock, Ser Arthur had been somewhere close by. She would have suffered his presence for Rhaegar's sake anyhow, but after months of acquaintance (even if it was based mostly on sword-fighting lessons), she would be lying if she claimed the knight's company was unpleasant. He had never made fun of her or mistreated her (not counting bruises she had earned at his hands during their lessons – those were unavoidable). He was always a perfect knight and she had come to…trust him. Not completely, not blindly, but she did trust him with Rhaegar, to keep her pri––king safe and to advise him, at least until she took her place by Rhaegar's side.

"The king can rely on Ser Arthur until Prince Viserys is older." She pointed out and then smiled at the said prince reassuringly, willing him to feel more at ease around her. She needed to know he wasn't disgusted by her. "And I am sure the prince will find as close a friend of his own age one day."

The queen returned her smile joyfully; Cersei's words seemed to really have eased her worries. For some reason, the sight made Cersei feel warm inside, but she decided not to pay it too much attention and rather focused on Queen Rhaella's words.

"You are right." The queen said elatedly, hugging Prince Viserys closer. "Maybe because Rhaegar and Arthur never got into any kind of trouble as young men tend to I imagine this one will be quite a little troublemaker." She ruffled his silver hair affectionately and her eyes returned to Cersei's. "What are your friends in Casterly Rock up to, Lady Cersei? Do they miss you?"

In a heartbeat, all the light-heartedness was gone as if sucked out of the air. Cersei felt her breath catch in her throat; her heart began pounding so wildly her chest started to ache as well as her head.

Remember, Cersei. Melara's words echoed inside her mind ominously. The prophecy will come true.

She had never considered Melara Hetherspoon a friend, more a girl she could easily frighten into obedience. It had turned out she could – up to a point. The girl had harboured such a desperate crush on Jaime she had dared stand up to Cersei and threaten to talk about things she should have never even known. So many words had been exchanged and so many hits dealt and yet it was only a single slip, a stroke of luck, that had decided their fates.

Help me, please! Melara had sung a different tune as the water pulled her downwards, Cersei remembered. I beg you, Cersei, please! I won't tell anyone about Maggy and about Jaime, I swear! I will never even look at him again! I promise! Please! You have to believe me!

Cersei hadn't believed her.

She had learned her lesson then, sworn off friendships with jealous little snakes. Who was even worthy of being called her friend? She was prettier, richer, smarter, better than any girl in the Realm. Lions didn't befriend lesser beings. Also, she had Jaime. Jaime was enough. She would also have Rhaegar soon. She didn't need anyone else.

"I don't have any friends in Casterly Rock." She said evenly. "I have my brother."

The queen's violet eyes widened in surprise.

"You don't have any friends?" She must have realized she sounded stupid just repeating Cersei's words, so she elaborated: "Female friends?"

"I don't need them." Cersei said firmly, perhaps too firmly, but she didn't care.

Queen Rhaella's questions only served to show her ignorance of the bond shared by twins. She didn't have a twin. She simply couldn't understand. A twin was everything.

"I'm sorry to hear you think so." The queen said after a few moments of stunned silence.

Suddenly, she cast a glance at the door, even though Cersei didn't hear anything resembling the sound of steps approaching. Cersei was confused by the woman's behaviour, but didn't get the chance to ponder it. When the queen turned to look at her again, a sad smile was playing on her lips. "Your mother helped me through some of the most difficult periods of my life. I valued her friendship greatly."

The revelation took Cersei by surprise. She knew Mother had once been Queen Rhaella's lady-in-waiting, but nobody had ever cast any light on that part of Joanna's life. Until now, Cersei had believed it was simply considered a source of shame and therefore wasn't spoken of; Lannisters didn't take well to the role of servants, even more so since King Aerys had used that particular word to describe Father's role in the Realm. Joanna was supposed to be remembered only as a great Lady of the Rock, mother to a queen and grandmother to a king. To hear she was remembered as something other than that was…unsettling, but also captivating.

"I…" She suddenly realized she had been staring at the queen in bafflement for longer than it was proper, so she cast her eyes downwards. "I didn't know that." In her precious few memories of Mother, Joanna had never mentioned the queen. "She never spoke about it…as much as I remember, anyway."

"She saved my life." Queen Rhaella said softly, making Cersei raise her head again to look at her. "I probably wouldn't be here speaking to you today if it hadn't been for her."

Cersei drank the silver-haired woman in, begging her with her eyes to just talk. She had to learn more, desperately. How had Mother saved her life? What could she have done that Father or King Aerys couldn't? Why had no-one mentioned that to Cersei before?

(Had Joanna really been King Aerys' lover? Had she betrayed Queen Rhaella's friendship and broken Father's trust?)

The queen's eyes darkened as the silence stretched and the tension in the air grew. Her gaze felt like an itch on Cersei's skin, but if she made even the most inconspicuous move to scratch it, it would break the spell and leave her empty-handed. Part of her ached to look away, leave the matter be, but she just couldn't. She had to know.

"I…It's not an easy subject to discuss." The queen broke the silence at last, her voice not quite even. "It would be for the best to wait until you are a little older."

"Please, Your Grace." If that tone came from someone else's mouth, Cersei would describe it as pathetic and beneath a Lannister. There and then, she couldn't control herself and words coloured in it burst out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I know so little of her. Please."

For a moment, it seemed the queen would deny her. However, the steel in her expression vanished as though it had never been there, as fickle as a trick of light. She sighed and pressed Prince Viserys closer to her chest as though her embrace would shield him from the words he was too young to even understand.

"After I gave birth to Rhaegar…" Her voice drifted off into silence and she swallowed a lump down her throat. Her eyes glazed over; Cersei wondered what she was seeing in her mind's eye. A babe very similar to the one she was holding closely in her arms as though he would slip through her fingers if she didn't hold on tightly enough? "I…I lost two children, before they were even born."

Suddenly, Cersei didn't know where to look. The pain of losing a child was unfamiliar to her, but she imagined it was not unlike losing a mother. Such losses left scars, opened wounds that never truly healed.

Perhaps she had made a mistake insisting she be told this story. Did she really want to hear it?

"Losing a child changes a woman." The queen continued before Cersei could change her mind. Cersei couldn't bring herself to look at her, could barely force herself to sit still and listen. "It weakens her, both in body and soul."

Losing one child? How weaker was a woman made by losing two?

"We were the last ones, Aerys and I." The way she said her late husband's name was the first sign of grief Queen Rhaella had displayed. It didn't exactly sound heartbroken as much as…lonely. "We needed heirs. A lot of them. We couldn't wait."

As the implications of the last words lingered in the air, Cersei barely breathed. There was a strange pressure inside her chest, something she had never truly felt before, so it took her a few moments to recognize it.

It was shame.

She should have not asked the queen to tell her this story. She still wanted to know about Mother's role in the queen's life, of course, but she should have asked someone – anyone – else.

She has shared it with Mother. She told herself, trying to keep her own fragile composure. If Mother could hear it and bear it, then so can I. I must. I must know.

"But after I lost the second babe, I…" The queen stuttered, her voice breaking with every breath. Such a great amount of pain in so few words. It was so pure, so raw, one could cut oneself on it. "I needed to rest. I couldn't…I couldn't bear the thought of…of being with child again." Of losing a child again.

The weight shifted on the bed beneath Cersei and suddenly a pale hand wrapped around her fingers. Startled, she raised her head and saw Queen Rhaella had moved closer to her, though she kept Prince Viserys on her other arm, away from Cersei. She squeezed Cersei's fingers, though the girl could not say who the gesture was meant to reassure.

"Your mother came to King's Landing to be by my side." Cersei felt she was drowning in the lilac pools that were the queen's eyes as much as in her story. She was so impatient to hear the next word that she barely grasped the meaning of the one that came before. "She was the only one who realized how close I was to death. The only one who cared whether I would survive another pregnancy."

The queen closed her eyes briefly, as if she was still feeling the death's breath on her face after so many years too. When she opened them again, Cersei saw her own reflection in the tears gathering in them. She had always considered tears that fell freely a sign of weakness, but tears that were held back, no matter how hard it was to do it…she held a bit of respect for them.

"Thanks to her, I was given time to recover." Queen Rhaella continued softly. "She saved my life. I only wish…" Her lips remained parted for a moment, the conflict obvious in her features. Then she said: "I wish she was still here."

Cersei couldn't find it in herself to speak out loud. I wish she was here too.

In the absence of her answer, a dejected smile spread over the queen's face. "I like to think she watches over my other children." Her long fingers intertwined with Prince Viserys' small ones. "She keeps them safe in my stead, until I join them."

She doesn't. The words were at the tip of Cersei's tongue, cold and cruel. She doesn't care about you or your children. She doesn't care even about her own.

The words that came out of her mouth weren't the ones she had expected.

"I have always believed that…my mother hates my brother…for taking her away from us." Her voice was trembling as the words stumbled out of her mouth, her breaths coming out uneven.

The queen's stunned silence wrapped around her throat like a rope. Once again, she couldn't bring herself to look at the woman. Her gaze landed on Prince Viserys, who looked away as soon as their eyes met.

Unlike him, she didn't look away. He might fear her, but he couldn't judge her. "Do you think that's true, Your Grace?"

A heartbeat later, she was already regretting sharing her thoughts with Queen Rhaella. Why had she said that? The queen wouldn't understand, she would blame Cersei for something she shouldn't even be blamed for, she would… Why had she let those words escape her mouth? Why hadn't she reined them in?

(Maybe because this conversation had already torn plenty of wounds, old and new ones, open. What damage could one more question really do?)

She waited for an answer with a baited breath.

Part of her knew it before the queen even spoke.

"I don't know what it's like to die so your child could live." The queen said softly, almost inaudibly. "But I know I would gladly have done so if it meant my children would have survived. They would have been protected and loved, even without me. It's all I would have wanted for them, for Rhaegar and Viserys and all the children I had in between them."

It was all Mother would have wanted for Tyrion. But Mother didn't care anymore.

"How…how many were there?"

She couldn't figure out for the life of her what had possessed her to ask that.

The queen didn't ask for an explanation or what she meant.

"I had three miscarriages." Her voice turned from uneven to completely lifeless. "Shaena and Baela were stillborn. Aegon and Jaehaerys died a few weeks after they were born. Daeron after half a year."

Cersei's breath hitched with each listed name. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think, only stare at the woman who had long since shed entire oceans of tears for her lost children.

Eight. Eight children. Eight dead children.

The queen's gaze flickered from her to the boy in her arms.

"My husband was determined to keep Viserys from suffering the same fate." Her knuckles had turned white around his tiny wrists, but he never whimpered or displayed any signs of being in pain. She was careful not to hurt him. "He didn't let anyone near him if he or the Kingsguard weren't present."

Not even me. Not even Rhaegar.

The silence that rested between them had a sense of finality to it. Cersei sat speechlessly and gazed into the queen's eyes, drinking in her sorrow, trying and failing to find a way to…lessen it. She felt so powerless, but for the first time, the feeling wasn't accompanied by a hot and sharp stab of anger, spent as easily as stirred. There was a deep ache in her very bones, a sense of slow and graduate decay from within.

Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds.

She nearly spilled that final secret there and then. It would be a relief not to have to bear that burden alone, to have someone who would have as much to lose if the events foretold by the witch came to pass as Cersei did. Together, she and the queen could be powerful enough to thwart the prophecy, even the part that spoke of Cersei's demise at the hands of the valonqar.

But she couldn't bring herself to share the secret. The queen might think her mad or laugh at her.

But I thought Rhaegar would do the same and he didn't. He wanted to know more.

And he would know more, she promised herself. She would tell him the whole prophecy, word for word just as Maggy had told it to her, as soon as he returned to King's Landing. They would decide together who was to be let in on it and what was to be done to prevent its outcome.

Queen Rhaella stood up slowly, her back bent tiredly as if she was carrying all her children, dead and alive, in her arms instead of just one.

"The king and your father should return to the capital soon." She said gently, but it didn't reach her eyes. They were still lifeless, like frozen pools. "I hope you will be well enough to greet them upon their arrival."

Cersei forced her body to move; manners had to be upheld, no matter the circumstances.

"I hope so too, Your Grace."

The queen nodded. "I wish you a good day."

"Thank you for coming to visit me, Your Grace." Cersei lowered her head and curtsied. And then, as the queen started to walk away, she said something she had never, ever said once over the course of her life, not even to Jaime. "I…I am sorry."

She had no idea where than had come from or even what she was sorry for. For the queen's loss? For the questions she had asked? For all the cruelties that had nearly escaped her mouth? Or all of it?

The silver-haired woman halted in her tracks abruptly, making Cersei raise her head again nervously. She wasn't used to having to watch her tongue, but today it seemed she was saying all the wrong things.

The first thing she saw was Prince Viserys watching her shyly, but he looked away as soon as their eyes met. When her gaze met the queen's, she could feel the violet eyes burning into hers, even from a distance.

"Goodbye, Lady Cersei." The queen nodded in greeting. Her face betrayed none of her thoughts.

A few moments later, Cersei was left standing alone in the room.

Only she was never truly alone, not anymore.

Who would have thought you actually had a heart in here somewhere, buried beneath all that vanity and vindictiveness. To tell you the truth, I am shocked.

It might have been just a cynical remark, but it made Cersei feel uneasy. She wasn't good at being nice and she didn't care; what would be the point? Grandfather hand been nice and people had despised him for it. Father was definitely not nice and yet people stayed at his side, knowing he made a better friend than an enemy. They respected him.

She knew Father would have shattered Queen Rhaella's illusions one by one. The queen would hate him and fear him for it. But would she respect him?

No. She wouldn't.

Her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed onto the bed. Her head came to rest in her hands and she pressed her face against the bottom of her palms.

And what made you think I wasn't capable of compassion? She asked Visenya sarcastically, rubbing her eyes to relieve the pressure behind her eyelids. Exhaustion washed over her and she let her body fall onto the bed, allowing her eyes to flutter shut.

You killed that servant-boy without blinking. Someone who'd had no blood on their hands would have hesitated. Visenya explained evenly. Forgive me for thinking a girl of ten who had already taken at least two lives incapable of compassion.

I wouldn't have had to kill him if King Aerys hadn't insisted on bringing me to Duskendale. Cersei snapped angrily. If Visenya was so quick to judge, then everyone else would be too and she couldn't have that. She wasn't to blame for the boy's death. Or if Father and Queen Rhaella had managed to convince him to let me stay in King's Landing. Or if Rhaegar had reasoned with him. Or if Lord Darklyn hadn't been so foolish to start a rebellion.

So you are trying to say that the boy's death is everyone's fault but yours.

No, but… She was saying that, wasn't she? But it was true. She hadn't wanted to kill the boy, but she had had no choice. She had had to escape. You told me to kill him.

No, I told you how to do it. You decided it had to be done on your own.

She wouldn't hesitate to call Visenya a liar – if she could remember her own exact words at the time.

But…

No excuses. The dragon queen interrupted her. You crashed his skull against the floor. His blood is on your hands. The only question is whether you can live with that.

Cersei snorted out loud. Clearly, I am living with it.

Can you take responsibility for his death? Can you admit to the world and to yourself that you did it? Can you face the consequences?

Consequences? The wording was a little too ominous in Cersei's opinion. He was just a servant-boy.

One day, it won't be a gullible servant-boy standing in your way. Visenya said firmly. Your enemies will not turn their backs to you. They will look you in the eyes and smile and plan your downfall at the same time.

That sounded unnervingly familiar.

"It won't come true." Cersei whispered to herself, as though the words could vanish into thin air, taking the outcome of Maggy's prophecy with them forever.

However, the echo of her thoughts was louder. Queen you shall be…until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.

With all the might lent by desperation of a scared child, she clenched her fists.

A hiss escaped her lips as nails pierced the skin of her palms, but at least it overcame the words in her mind. She exhaled heavily and forced herself to be utterly still. When she could no longer hold her breath, she breathed in and out deeply. Then again. And again. And again, until she no longer felt the pounding of her heart against her temples.

What was that? Visenya demanded when she sensed she had Cersei's attention.

Cersei couldn't bring herself to try to explain the prophecy or who Maggy was. Let Visenya search her mind if she wanted to know about it. She just wanted not to think of it.

Nothing. She said curtly. It doesn't matter.

(Not yet, anyway.)

She knew Visenya wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. She needed to divert her attention – quickly.

So how do I stop them? She asked, returning to the point they'd been discussing before her slip-up. It wasn't merely a distraction; she was genuinely interested in the answer. How do I defeat them?

The only answer she got was silence.

She nearly called out the dragon queen's name, both in her thoughts and out loud, but then changed her mind. She would not beg the insufferable woman to deign answer her. Let her keep her silence. She couldn't be trusted anyway.

The boy was in the way. She told herself; if Visenya was listening, she didn't care – or maybe she did, a very, very little. If Melara had got the chance to talk, the Lannisters would have been disgraced. If I hadn't left her to die in that well, we could have lost everything.

She felt no regret, she promised herself.

I did what I had to do. I always will.

---

"Milord, a message."

Upon registering the words, Jaime snapped to attention immediately, like a lost traveller who finally recognized the path home after having wandered aimlessly for hours. His thoughts had been roaming, from Cersei to Cersei, as they had constantly since he'd learned of her captivity in Duskendale. He hated himself for thinking of her when she didn't deserve it, not after having chosen the stupid prince (who was now King apparently) over him, but he couldn't help it. She had to be safe again before he could go back to trying to forget her.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow, his focus settling on a piece of parchment that had just changed hands. Seated at the table, Uncle Kevan unravelled it and gestured to the messenger to leave them alone.

Jaime threw his legs over the edge and straightened up. He wanted to approach Uncle Kevan and see for himself what was written on the parchment, but he remained where he was. Uncle had already started to read; Jaime would have barely been able to keep up with him with a head start – he would stand no chance late from the beginning.

Kevan's face gave nothing away about who the message was from or whether it was good or bad news. Jaime felt like several lifetimes had passed until his uncle's green eyes finally locked with his.

"Cersei has been rescued." He said at last, his voice lacking even the slightest note of relief.

As quickly as Jaime's spirits rose, they were brought down even lower by Uncle's tone. What was wrong?

"Your father writes he sent her ahead to Grandmaester Pycelle with a party to protect her, as she has yet to regain consciousness." Kevan continued. "He stayed behind with the king to make sure the new lord of Duskendale would not follow in the footsteps of the previous one."

She has yet to regain consciousness. Jaime's breath caught in his throat. He knew from stories told by his uncles that men who lost consciousness sometimes never woke up again. That could not happen to Cersei. She must live. The bond between them, no matter how badly severed by her betrayal, would not allow her to die. It would keep her alive. It had to.

"He will send word when he returns to the capital if there is any news. Meanwhile, we are to return to Casterly Rock."

"No!" Jaime shouted so loudly Uncle Kevan flinched in surpise. His heart started pounding wildly, black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

He could not return to Casterly Rock without seeing Cersei awake with his own eyes. He wouldn't be able to bear waiting for news on the other side of the Realm.

"I must go to King's Landing." He insisted, his voice not as loud as before, but also not as calm as he would have liked it to be. I must go to Cersei.

Uncle Kevan dropped the parchment onto the table absently and turned to fully face his nephew.

In Jaime's opinion, Kevan's green eyes had little in common with those of the other Lannisters he knew. They were filled with an emotion he couldn't recognize, probably because he'd never seen it on Father or any of his other brothers and cousins or Cersei. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable so he lowered his gaze and unintentionally gave Uncle Kevan a chance to speak.

"Jaime," His uncle said with a sigh, "There is nothing you can…"

"I must go to her." Jaime interrupted his uncle forcefully, the intensity of his tone driven by his anger with Kevan. Uncle didn't have a twin. He couldn't possibly understand the strength of the connection between Jaime and Cersei. It surpassed the loyalty he felt to Father like the Wall towered above nameless villages in the North.

(It was perhaps strong enough to wake his sister up.)

Kevan sighed once more. When their eyes met again, Jaime could tell Uncle regretted his choice of words, but for Father's sake, he would say them.

"I know you worry for Cersei, but your world must not revolve around her."

It was just about the worst possible thing he could have said.

Jaime felt a pressure building up in his chest, as if he was literally drowning in the waves of fury. He had not meant to lose his temper, but soon he heard himself saying in the most spiteful tone he could muster: "Like your world doesn't revolve around Father, Uncle?"

Kevan's eyes narrowed at him, making Jaime grin inwardly in dark satisfaction. Uncle deserved that sting and Jaime would gladly send more his way until he agreed to let him go to the capital.

"You are too scared of Father to do anything without his permission!" He yelled, his hands clenching into fists. "Well, I am not! I am going to King's Landing to see Cersei alone if you are too much of a coward to go with me!"

"Careful, boy." The older Lannister said warningly. "I will not tolerate your insolence."

Jaime refused to look away. He wouldn't be intimidated into leaving for Casterly Rock. He would face Father's wrath without fear. Nothing would stop him from getting to Cersei.

"She is my sister." He said firmly, not separating his eyes from Uncle Kevan's for a moment, trying to conduct a message words couldn't describe. "My twin." My other half.

It was only when Uncle's expression softened that he realized how desperate and scared he'd just sounded. He was terrified. The thought of losing Cersei, of having to move on in this world without her, without knowing she was somewhere out there…it was unbearable. He could not let it happen. He had to go see her and stand by her side every day until she woke up.

(And after she woke up too. The prince had failed at keeping her safe. Surely she would see now she could rely only on her twin to protect her and no-one else.)

"I didn't mean to slander the love and devotion you and Cersei share." Uncle placed a comforting hand on Jaime's shoulder; he didn't try to shrug it off. "There are no siblings I know as close as the two of you and I admire your loyalty to one another."

Since the moment he'd found Cersei's drawing of her and the dragon prince, Jaime had doubted their loyalties were equal in strength. She'd been planning to leave him even before Rhaegar had asked for her. She had intended to replace him with the thieving prince.

Maybe he wasn't so desperate to reach her just because he was worried about her. Maybe he wanted to ask her to come back with him to Casterly Rock and see if she would agree. Everyone made mistakes (even his twin, even though she would never admit it); he was willing to give her another chance. If she came back, he would forgive and forget everything. Everything would be as it had been before.

But Cersei had to choose him. She had to choose them. Over the prince (the king), over the crown, over everything – like he would always choose her.

"But sometimes, we must put our duty before the ones we care for the most." Kevan's voice snapped him out of his musings.

Duty, duty, duty. It was all Father ever talked about. Duty to the family.

"But if Father or Aunt Genna lay dying somewhere, you would go to them." Jaime objected, but even to his own ears it sounded more like pleading.

If Uncle Kevan had hesitated with his answer, it had lasted only for a moment.

"They would want me to do my duty to the family." He said with absolute certainty in his voice.

Jaime frowned in confusion. "But they are family."

This time, Uncle's pause was longer as he tried to come up with an explanation.

"They are part of it, yes." He conceded. "But the Lannister name will carry on even when they are gone, when you and I are gone." He removed the hand from Jaime's shoulder, but kept looking solemnly at his nephew. "Our duty to the family is to ensure it can still thrive even after we die. Your father devoted his life to that and look how high our House has risen. He expects us to keep it as strong even when he is gone."

Jaime bit his lip nervously, feeling the pressure of everyone's expectations settling down on his shoulders even before Uncle Kevan finished speaking. Father was Father; how could he ever measure up? He struggled with reading; even Tyrion – Tyrion! – was better at it than him. How could he keep House Lannister as strong as it was with Father as its lord? He wasn't, he didn't, he couldn't…

"If everything goes as planned," While Jaime had been struggling to keep his composure, Uncle Kevan had seated himself at the table again, "Cersei will become Queen and give birth to royal heirs. You will marry a respectable lady who will give your children who will inherit Casterly Rock and all the power of House Lannister. Tyrion will also be found a suitable wife and he will also do his duty to the family."

In his mind's eye, Jaime saw Cersei smiling at a silver-haired, green-eyed babe in her arms. He saw himself standing next to a woman whose face was hidden in the shadows on the day of his wedding. He saw Tyrion – four-year-old Tyrion – watching his betrothed with curious eyes and her laughing at him for being a dwarf.

He couldn't stand the thought of that being their future. Cersei away with somebody who couldn't be trusted to keep her safe, Tyrion mocked without anyone to protect him and he stuck in a marriage to a woman whose face wasn't the reflection of his.

It was even more imperative that he reached Cersei now. He had to tell her what would become of them if they gave in to Father's plans. He had to make understand they couldn't live like that. He couldn't live like that.

"Let me go to her, please." He asked – no, begged. "I just need to see her. I…I will do anything."

I will go back home with you – and with Cersei. If she doesn't want to come, then… Then he had no idea what would happen.

Uncle observed him thoughtfully for a few moments, then his gaze sharpened and Jaime could sense the danger that blade presented.

"I want your word." Kevan said solemnly, his voice cutting through the air in the same manner Father's did.

Jaime's resolution began to crumble in a stunned silence.

"You will try harder to master all the skills a lord needs." Uncle Kevan continued in the same tone. "When your father finds you a suitable bride, you will wed her without complaints. And when the time comes, you will take your rightful place as Tywin's heir."

Jaime's lungs began to burn with the lack of air. He tried to breathe in, but he couldn't, choking on the words he didn't want to say.

He didn't want to make that promise. He wanted none of it. He wanted a sword in his hand and Cersei at his side.

(Somewhere far, far away from all those who knew them and all their expectations. Perhaps they could bring Tyrion along too. Cersei would take some convincing, but Jaime was sure it could be done. They would be happy on their own, the three of them. They would be free.)

If he made this promise, he would never be free again.

But there was no other way to Cersei.

He cast his eyes down and breathed in deeply. "You have my word."

The deafening silence luckily lasted only for a heartbeat.

"Look at me, Jaime."

Jaime hesitated. He didn't know if he could look Kevan in the eyes and lie to him. If he was caught, he might never see Cersei again and the grim future he had envisioned for them would come true.

Cersei. For Cersei. For us. He repeated her name like a prayer and his courage slowly began to return. He and Cersei had been deceiving everyone for years. They were good liars. He was a good liar. He could do this.

He raised his head and looked Uncle straight in the eyes. "You have my word." He repeated firmly.

After a few moments of silence, Uncle Kevan nodded.

"I must go tell Tygett about the change of plans." He stood up and headed outside, leaving Jaime behind with a strange sense of…chaos in his gut.

He was going to see Cersei. But would she want to see him? What would he do if she didn't? Would he stay by his promise to Uncle Kevan…or would he break it? Would he have a reason to break if Cersei turned him away? If she wouldn't allow him to save her from her own choices, would he be a bad brother if he decided to leave her behind?

---

It took Tywin only a brief glance at the group standing in the yard inside the Red Keep to notice his daughter wasn't present.

The queen and Prince Viserys were present, as well as the rest of the Kingsguard. All the lords who were currently residing at court, including members of the Small Council, stood a little in the back, but they would still be in the king's sight once he reached his family. Even some servants had come to witness Rhaegar's triumphant return from his first (successfully crushed) rebellion.

Pycelle wasn't present either.

That was concerning. Tywin had received word that his daughter had woken up and that she seemed to be in good health, if a bit shaken by what had happened in Duskendale. Why wasn't she there to greet the king's party then? Had she fallen ill?

He sighed inwardly; how many more obstacles would he have to put up with until she was finally betrothed to Rhaegar?

Said young man was had just dismounted, his crimson cloak rising into the air in a welcoming gust of wind in a warm late morning. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he placed a hand on Queen Rhaella's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. After greeting his mother, he smiled fondly at his younger brother.

Prince Viserys didn't seem keen on reciprocating his affection. He turned away from the king and buried his face in the crook of the queen's neck. Not even the queen's soft whispers managed to convince him to look at his brother again. Aerys' paranoia had affected the boy quite badly, but it was for the best that he remained so wary of the world. Cersei's children wouldn't have to fear overly ambitions cousins.

"How was your journey?" The queen asked gently, trying to distract the king from his younger brother's aversion to him.

Which shouldn't have been necessary at all in Tywin's opinion. Rhaegar should have more important things on his mind than his younger brother's fearful behaviour. However, the Hand was forced to direct his disapproval at someone other than the king, so he climbed off his horse and summoned a stable-boy with an impatient wave of hand. He threw the reins at the boy; at the same moment, Rhaegar spoke again.

"It was short, thank the gods." He tried to sound at ease, but there was a clear edge to his tone. "A lot shorter than I feared it would be when we set out for Duskendale."

Tywin turned on his heel and saw the queen squeezing her son's hand gently in attempt to dismantle the tension in his posture. "Not short enough." She said with a heartfelt smile. "When you have children of your own, you will understand."

Rhaegar stiffened briefly at her words, but relaxed again as his gaze slid to the red-haired man standing behind the queen.

"Jon." He acknowledged Lord of Griffin's Roost , who returned his greeting with a bow and a mumbled 'Your Grace'.

While ordering the servant-boy that his horse was to have his hooves trimmed at once, Tywin listened to the exchange with interest. Jon Connington had been tasked directly by Rhaegar to accompany Cersei to King's Landing. Rhaegar might finally ask about her. He could finally show the same determination to have her by his side that he had displayed that night in Casterly Rock when he had insisted Cersei was brought to King's Landing. With Aerys gone, nothing stood between her and a royal match anymore. She would be Queen.

But Rhaegar's gaze returned to Queen Rhaella without even a mention of Cersei. Tywin narrowed his eyes at the young king, but he couldn't call him out on his…mistake in front of the entire court.

"I want you to join me for a meal in an hour." Rhaegar glanced at Viserys so briefly his eyes returned to the queen's before the boy could even look away again. "Both of you."

"Of course." The queen accepted with a joyful beam. She looked happier than Tywin had ever seen her during her marriage to Aerys.

The king's smile was a weak reflection of hers, but a smile nonetheless. He nodded and made as if to walk away, but then paused and turned to face the Hand, the smile gone from his face long before he locked eyes with Tywin.

Finally.

"I want the Small Council gathered at sundown." Rhaegar said, his tone lacking every trace of light-heartedness that had been present as he'd conversed with the queen. "Until then, I must not be disturbed."

Tywin bowed his head. "As you command, Your Grace."

After many years of practice, he was able to recognize the moment when he could raise his head without appearing disrespectful,so he could speak before the king's attention wandered off. "If Your Grace would excuse me, I wish to see my daughter. I'm sure she would have been here to welcome us if she was well enough."

For a moment, Rhaegar seemed to have frozen completely, panic sparking in his violet eyes, but whatever inspired it, he recovered from it soon. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"I hope she will recover soon." Despite his calm appearance, his voice wasn't quite even. "Give her my regards."

Tywin bowed once again; the gesture served well to hide his displeasure. He'd hoped Rhaegar would insist on visiting Cersei himself. Had his inclinations towards her weakened? Had the foolish girl done something to offend him? Or did he think her time in Duskendale had made unsuitable for the role of Queen?

He needed to speak to Cersei as soon as possible, find out what had happened since she'd entered the walls of the Dun Fort.

And compare her story with Lady Serala's, to see if the latter had left something out.

"Take Lady Serala to the Tower of the Hand." He commanded one of his men. "Make sure one of the maids explains her new duties to her."

He didn't stay behind to observe Lady Serala's reaction to his words, but marched away towards the Grandmaester's chambers. Two of his men followed him through the stony corridors, but kept their distance. They passed by a few servants, ignoring their bows and mumbled 'milord's'. When they finally reached Pycelle's chambers, Tywin walked inside without knocking and found himself in a room empty of people. It contained a wooden desk, a chair, a closet, a few cabinets on which stood various instruments whose purpose was mostly unknown to Tywin and numerous shelves. Some were filled with bottles and vials of various sizes and contents while others were covered with thick and thicker books. There were also two doors, leading to the rooms left and right of this one.

A few moments later, the door to the right opened, revealing the unappealing sight of Grandmaester Pycelle.

"Who dares…" The man began sharply, but then realized who his unexpected guest was and bowed his head meekly. "My Lord Hand."

"Where is my daughter?" Tywin asked without greeting. He was tired of pleasantries and didn't feel the need to extend them to those beneath him.

Fortunately, Pycelle was too scared of him to be offended.

"In here." He moved further into the room to let the Hand past.

"Leave us." Tywin commanded in passing, loudly enough for his men to realize the order referred to them as well. It was only after he heard the door snapping shut that he finally focused his attention on his daughter.

"Father."

Dry and dressed in a golden dress, but pale and nearly bald (and still too young to have any sign of breasts worth mentioning), Cersei looked cleaner than she had the last time he'd seen her, but also like a boy of noble birth who had for unfathomable reasons decided to wear a gown. Tywin would bet (if he ever bet, which he never did) that Jaime looked more feminine right now than his sister. The sight was quite disconcerting, in all honesty; perhaps it was a good thing she hadn't been present in the yard to greet the king upon his arrival.

Still, he needed to know the reason for her absence. She clearly wasn't bedridden with fever.

"The whole court was in the yard to welcome the king." He said sternly. "Why weren't you?"

She cast her eyes down and hugged herself as though she was cold. "I…I didn't feel well." She said after a few moments of silence.

He nearly scoffed at that. King's Landing was bathed in sunlight which mercilessly burned everything it touched. He wished for a storm like the one that had washed over Duskendale the night of the attack to make the capital breathe again. Had Cersei tried to fake just about any other symptom, he might have believed it, but cold was the last thing one could feel in these conditions.

"I see you are standing." He replied dismissively. "Why couldn't you have stood in the yard?"

She hugged herself even tighter, as if that could shield her from his discontentment. Eventually, she looked at him through her eyelashes. "Was the pri––the king angry?"

Anger would have been a preferable reaction to Rhaegar's actual response – it seemed he hadn't even remembered Cersei was supposed to be there. "If he was, he kept it well hidden," Tywin said, the slightest note of irritation sneaking into his voice. "Have you done something to offend him?"

"No!" She denied fiercely, as if insulted by the notion. "I would never do anything to offend him."

That didn't tell Tywin much; just because Cersei believed she hadn't offended Rhaegar in any way didn't mean the king felt the same. On the other hand, if that was the case, he would surely have brought the matter up by now.

For now, the best course of action would be to wait until the Small Council meeting; he would learn there whether anything Cersei had or hadn't done was among the subjects the king wanted to discuss. Tywin would have preferred to settle the matter with Rhaegar in private beforehand, but the king had instructed he was not to be disturbed until sundown and not even Tywin could present this issue as a matter of life and death.

This particular subject would have to wait, but there were others that didn't have to.

"What happened in Duskendale?" He asked his daughter.

Her eyes narrowed briefly, suspicious of him dropping a matter so easily. His brow furrowed as his patience wore thin; it was enough warning for her not to waste his time any longer.

He didn't interrupt her while she spoke, concentrated on catching specifics he could use to assess Lady Serala's honesty later. Cersei's version of the story was quite meticulous, as though she believed he would be impressed by her ability to memorize details. He was more impressed by her method of ensuring the alarm wasn't raised after she'd left the cell, but kept the fact to himself. She repeated every word Denys Darklyn had said to her particularly keenly; she clearly hadn't been told the man wasn't around anymore to be punished – regret Tywin shared.

As for Denys' widow, her fate still hung in the air.

"Lady Serala told me you'd insisted she became one of your maids." He said when she finished, not allowing her more than a few heartbeats to catch her breath. "Why?"

Cersei's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth falling open. "She is here?"

"For the time being." He replied, the implication clear in his tone.

Her lips quirked at the corners, the surprise transforming into satisfaction.

"She is a smart woman." Her even tone did little to mask the excitement in her eyes. "I want smart people around me."

If Tywin hadn't heard those words with his own ears, he wouldn't believe his daughter was capable of saying something so…clever. Was this the same girl who had written that letter full of begging and snivelling?

"Smart people are dangerous if left unchecked." He said coldly, careful not to let his voice give away his astonishment. "Can you keep her under control?"

A scowl creased her forehead. Her hesitation was obvious, but Tywin took it as a sign of her growing shrewdness. It wasn't a responsibility to be taken lightly. Members of one's household were the greatest weakness a nobleman had. They were always around, always close. It was essential they knew their place and their loyalties, otherwise they only posed a liability.

"I think I can." She said at last. "I will."

He resented the uncertainty in her voice, but better that she underestimated herself than the (supposed) enemy.

"We will see, won't we?"

Her gaze sharpened, but she didn't say anything, at least not out loud. Yes, we will.

For the first time in years, Tywin felt he might have found entertainment he would actually enjoy.

"If the Grandmaester gives his approval, you will return to the Tower of the Hand at once." He ordered, moving along to other matters. "You will not leave your chambers until I say so."

He nearly rolled his eyes when he saw she was pouting. And he'd really believed for a moment she had outgrown those immature tantrums.

"Why not?" She squealed in protest.

His frustration with her childish whining took control only for a moment, but it was enough for him to snap at her and answer with cruel honesty. "Because I don't want you in the king's sight." Looking like this.

She flinched away as though he'd slapped her.

Looking at tears welling in her eyes, the understanding clear in them, he felt his words had stung more severely than a slap ever could.

"Not until I explain to him that all your begging and whining in that letter was pretence." He said quickly in a strange moment of…pity? "He will understand you did what you had to do."

One by one, tears started to fall down her cheeks. Their descent was slowed down by her raising her head and sticking her chin out defiantly as she glared at him.

"I thought you would have explained that to him already." Her voice was uncannily steady for someone who was crying. "I thought my own father knew me well enough to understand I wouldn't have humiliated myself and my House by writing that without a good reason."

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. A moment later, she was glaring at him again, bold and unyielding. When she spoke, her voice held no uncertainty. "I was wrong."

Without further ado, she curtsied and marched out of the room, not caring that she had not been allowed to leave, never once turning back.

Tywin stared after her in shock, unable to move or call after her. His mind struggled to understand how he had been reduced to a speechless statue by his own daughter, a girl of one-and-ten. If anyone had witnessed this, he would become a laughing stock…

It was only the fear that they'd been overheard that made him move. Pycelle and one of the guards stood in the corridor; the other guard must have followed Cersei. They didn't look shocked, only bowed their heads when he entered the main room. Good. He walked past them without a word, not stopping to wait for the guard to catch up.

He barely watched where he was going as he approached the Tower of the Hand, his mind occupied with trying to think of a suitable punishment for Cersei's insolence. To his frustration, he caught himself doubting whether any form of punishment he had come up with would have any effect. The sight of her face came back to him over and over again, tearstained, but unwavering, accusing him of a crime he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't committed.

He banned the thought as soon as it appeared in his mind. He had devoted all his efforts to raising the House Lannister in the eyes of Westeros. If he hadn't taken the reins over from his father long before Tytos had even died, she would never have been regarded as a possible bride for Rhaegar. She was an ungrateful, spoiled child. The only regret he had regarding her was allowing Joanna and Genna free reign with her. If she'd been taught discipline in time, she wouldn't have dared defy him like that.

He reached his chambers with one thought on his mind; Cersei's newfound boldness had to be restrained. A little cheek in a wife could be entertaining occasionally; a lot was intolerable. He wouldn't allow Cersei's imprudence to cost her her marriage to Rhaegar. He wouldn't allow it to cost him an heir of Lannister blood on the Iron throne.

But there was a more imminent obstacle on that path. Luckily, it could be moved out of the way with just one letter.

Ashara Dayne.

---

She wasn't there when he arrived.

Just six men bowing to him as he took his place at the head of the table and a few servants waiting to be summoned. None of them was the golden-haired girl he longed to see. He tried to convince himself it didn't matter, but he could feel his spirits sinking in disappointment.

The only time when he hadn't been thinking about her since returning to the capital was during the meal with Mother and Viserys. His brother had remained reserved towards him, but had smiled at Mother a couple of times, which had never failed to make the queen's eyes light up like candles. Watching her ruffling his hair, kissing his forehead, showering him with her love had made Rhaegar realize how much she had suffered while being parted from him, how much she needed Viserys to know she loved him. Even if it seemed she barely grieved for Father, Rhaegar remembered so few smiles on her face prior to Aerys' death (and even less of those that hadn't turned into tears later) that he couldn't hold her current happiness against her. Her joy didn't come from losing a husband, but from regaining a son.

She said I would have three children. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds.

A powerless sigh escaped his lips. Everywhere he went, whatever brief moments of peace he found, he was always haunted by Cersei Lannister's presence, her words, her face.

He'd been sure Lord Tywin would bring her with him to the Small Council meeting, if only to dangle her in front of him like he'd done when they'd arrived to the Red Keep. He couldn't fathom the reason for her absence. It weighed heavily upon him, as heavily as he imagined her presence would have. Was she so unwell she couldn't stand? But Grandmaester Pycelle was sitting at the table; surely he wouldn't have left her side if she was gravely ill.

So where was she?

Tywin Lannister cleared his throat, snapping Rhaegar out of the musings about his daughter. Afraid he'd been caught daydreaming, he chanced a glance at the men at the table, looking for the slightest sign of disapproval in their expressions.

To his surprise, they were all looking at him with interest, waiting patiently for their king to speak. Or more likely assessing him, wondering how much authority would a young, inexperienced ruler dare impose upon men decades older than him. They probably assumed he would be easy to control.

He had to prove them wrong, quickly.

"My lords." He greeted them with a nod, briefly locking eyes with each of them. "You have all served my father well." His gaze paused on Lord Tywin, but didn't remain there long enough for the clash to be suspicious. "But I need you to serve me even more faithfully. I need your knowledge and your experience to help me keep this Realm prosperous and safe."

It had taken all of his self-control not to emphasise the last word. He believed he'd managed.

Some of the men nodded, others hummed in agreement. Rhaegar allowed himself a moment of contentment, then continued.

"My father's ill-fated journey to Duskendale didn't just cost him his life, but also life of one of the Kingsguard." He nodded at the Lord Commander, who bowed his head as if to say that Gwayne Gaunt had died honourably, doing his duty. Rhaegar hoped dearly Arthur (or any of the other Kingsguard) would never have to pay the same price for upholding their vows. "A tournament to find Ser Gwayne a worthy replacement will be hosted in King's Landing in a few weeks. Word must be spread."

Another wave of nods and favourable mutters spread through the room. They didn't have any complaints so far.

Rhaegar breathed in deeply, knowing the hardest part was before him. They would probably object to everything; the time and resources it would take to organize such an event, the necessity of another coronation, the list of those invited.

He could still change his mind. He could just not mention it and none would be the wiser.

He could simply wed Cersei Lannister when she came of age and hope he had misinterpreted the visions (or not care about them at all).

But he'd spent most of his life researching prophecies, trying to understand what they meant, the warnings in them; it was as much a part of him as an arm or a leg. He couldn't choose not to believe in them or what he thought they meant; he just believed. He believed the monster of ice would be reborn from Cersei Lannister's blood if he married her – why else would the vision have come to him only after Father's death? She was not of fire herself. Her blood wasn't hot enough to burn it.

He could not wed her. He could not choose her over the fate of men in Westeros.

"Lords of all great Houses will be invited to the tournament." He said firmly, trying to appear calm, despite the storm within. "As well as lords of Houses with historical ties to Westeros and my family, like Velaryon, "He nodded at Lucerys Velaryon, Master of ships and the head of House Velaryon, to let him know that the ancient ties between Houses Targaryen and Velaryon that dated back even prior Aegon the Conqueror's time hadn't been forgotten, "Hightower," His eyes locked briefly with Ser Gerold Hightower's brown ones, even though the man had long since sworn his loyalty to the ruler of Westeros and not to his own family, "And Dayne. They must come to swear loyalty to me as their new king."

The two men whose families were mentioned by name nodded in agreement. Pycelle lowered his head, hiding his face from Rhaegar's sight. Tywin Lannister had no need for such unsubtle methods of concealing his thoughts; his stern expression was unreadable

"Your Grace." Lord Quarlton Chelsted, Master of coin, was the first to protest, as it was to be expected.

Rhaegar turned to him, hoping he was displaying an air of willingness to hear his opinion, but also determination to have his way. It was essential that this plan worked; he would have no other chance to get to know other possible brides at least a little before marriage. He'd always known he wouldn't wed for love, but he would like to have at least one thing in common with his future wife.

(Part of him hoped for it to be interest in prophecies and visions, but he doubted he was that lucky.)

"Hosting a tournament is expensive as it is, but to summon all those lords? With all their knights and servants?" Lord Quarlton's frown deepened. "It would cost us a fortune."

Despite feeling Tywin Lannister's piercing gaze on his face, Rhaegar didn't separate his eyes from the Master of coin for a moment.

"Can the royal treasury bear it?" He asked calmly.

Lord Quarlton blinked in surprise, but didn't speak, not even after he'd clearly recovered from it. It was enough of an answer for the king.

"I want it done." He commanded. The Master of coin opened his mouth to protest, but Rhaegar silenced him by raising his hand. "The reward for the tournament's victor is a place among my Kingsguard. You have some extra gold to spend that would have been reserved for that purpose already."

For a few moments, the Master of coin stared at him with his mouth hanging open. Eventually, he closed it and nodded. Rhaegar raised his eyebrows at the rest of the Small Council, giving them a chance to voice any other protests. None came, not even from the Hand, though Rhaegar had a feeling Lord Tywin simply didn't want to discuss his objections in front of the rest of the Council. He would surely ask for a word in private later.

The only way to delay that moment, at least for a time, was to keep him busy.

"Keep me informed about the progress." The king's gaze clashed with the Hand's; it took a lot of effort, but he held his ground. "The sooner the new Kingsguard is chosen, the sooner we can move on to other matters."

That provoked a reaction. Lord Lannister nodded.

Somewhat relieved, Rhaegar exhaled and rose from his seat, followed quickly by the six men. He left the room without looking at any of them, not wanting to let them drag him into another discussion today, not after the successful beginning. Other mattes could wait, at least until tomorrow.

All he wanted now was to soothe his thoughts. To let his mind wander as his fingers wandered through the strings of the harp. To enjoy the silence that came with music. To forget.

A note: According to ASOIAF wiki, Rhaella had two stillborn children, Shaena and one whose name and sex weren't known. I find it hard to believe Rhaella (and Aerys) would have named (and loved) one stillborn child, but not another, so in this story the other child was a girl named Baela, named after one of the daughters of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon (because Daemon is one of my all-time favourites, even though he's probably one of the biggest douches in the whole AWOIAF/ASOIAF world).

I hope you liked the chapter and sorry for the wait.