Cersei.
He was waiting for her when her car pulled up, standing alone at the doors, dark against the bright lights of the foyer. She was impressed with that.
He walked down the steps to meet her, opening the car door and offering her a hand. She took it with a cautious smile. It would do no good to let him know that he had pleased her so soon. As they ascended the steps back towards the grand hotel, she slid her arm through his and allowed her hand to rest against his forearm. Even under the sleeves of his suit, she could feel the strength in his arm, as though she had wrapped herself around a rock. It was reassuring.
He had spared no expense in the re-opening. The lobby was transformed from the sterile marble she remembered in to a smooth, elegant display of opulent gemstone hues and thick, luxurious fabrics. She saw her father's influence across the span of it; in every elegant curve and flourish, from the quartz scattered marble under her feet and the crystal chandeliers above her head. Robert might live in this place now, but it was her father who owned it. It was a delightful thought, and she smiled at her own cleverness before lamenting that she couldn't share it.
She had carefully managed her arrival so that the party was already well underway by the time he led her in to the ballroom. As the doors were opened for them, she was met with a sea of familiar faces and she carefully took note of every one of them.
So here's where they've all been hiding she thought dryly as she surveyed them, laughing and relaxed, as if they had always belonged. All our old friends, basking in Roberts glory.
As they made their entrance, she made sure to look them all in the eye as she passed.
I see you she hoped her expression said. I see you, and I remember.
She remained at his side as the lines of people began to flow towards him, all glad hands and congratulations. She watched him glow under their compliments, unsure if he knew that most of their words were empty. She found herself starting to harbour a little fascination for him; something soft under the cool detached manner in which she had so far regarded him. It was so novel to watch someone play this game without quite knowing the rules. She was used to watching the polished, skilled moves of a master player. It was almost endearing. Almost.
The real power was situated across the way. Her father had taken a table, with Varys and Pycelle in close attendance. The younger brother, Stannis, was refusing drinks while that slippery old man Jon Arryn arched over him. He had brought the simpering Tully girl with him, and Cersei was quick to note how many people were avoiding the pair of them. She could not begin to fathom the strangeness of that relationship. What could either of them be trying to gain?
She looked for Jaime but she could never quite catch him. She knew he was stalking her somewhere, but the room was large and full and he really was very good at moving unseen. She had no doubt he was watching her, but whenever she looked, all she kept seeing was the other one. The boy with the scarred face.
He was never too far from her these days, but he had proven surprisingly good at his new post and he kept his mouth shut for the most part. She hardly ever needed to correct him, and she had no doubt that he would end a man's life at her command - all admirable qualities in a bodyguard. The scars were a problem, there was no denying it, but there was something fearsome in his disfigured face that she could probably use to her advantage. Apparently, he had a reputation. She couldn't say she was surprised.
There was a shift at her side, a subtle change in pressure that brought her back in to the room. Robert's arm had slipped from hers and was moving around her back with an unfamiliar delicately. She could feel the warmth of his hand as it skimmed across the open back of her dress, coming to rest at the dip between her shoulder blades. Then, with a move she could only assume was well practiced, he pressed the flat on his thumb against her skin and ran it slowly down the curve of her spine. She kept her eyes forward, stubbornly keeping her mouth shut. Even so, as his hand came to rest at the base of her back, a small sigh escaped her. She knew he had heard; the grin on his face was proof enough.
She couldn't shift away from him - there were too many people who would notice -but she knew already that she didn't really want to. It was such a simple touch, yet breathtakingly brazen. No one but Jaime had ever dared touched her like that, and never in front of so many people. It was a strange and heady mix, and it was threatening to undermine her. She glanced about nervously but no one seemed to be taking any notice. It made no sense. How could they fail to notice? Her whole body was on fire.
He leant in to her and whispered, and she was painfully aware of how close his mouth was.
'You turn a pretty shade of red, did you know? I like it.'
'It's hot' she said simply. It was not a lie, not as such. He continued to grin.
'I didn't know it was so easy to make you blush' he said quietly. 'I would have tried to do it sooner.'
She bristled at that, and pulled away with a jerk. She didn't care about the eyes then.
'Aww now, don't be like that!'
He was still grinning, and she could feel the fire dying with every second that it stayed plastered on his arrogant, handsome face. Something inside her felt like screaming at him for ruining it. The other part of her was screaming at herself for feeling that way.
'I want a drink' she said calmly, feeling the last flicker of the flame as it spluttered out. The hollowness that it left was too disconcerting and so she ignored it. She held his eye steadily, daring him to challenge her.
'Wine' she said briskly. 'Red.'
He turned away, but not before giving her a last little parting shot in the form of a sly wink. She didn't watch him leave, searching again for Jaime, needing to see something familiar, anything to anchor on to. But all she saw was the bobbing, empty faces with their superficial laughter and the sullen, scarred face watching her from the corner, quietly.