England, 1815
Cersei Lannister gently reached in and, carefully avoiding thorns, snipped the stem from the rosebush, pulling the bud toward her with nimble fingers to have a closer look. She eyed it with the detachment of a scientist, the expertise of a scholarly botanist, turning the rose slowly in her hands, taking careful note of its structure, its delicate beauty.
It was magnificent, the loveliest and healthiest plant she'd bred so far. It would take time to find a name dignified and unique enough for such a creation, though. She needed something perfect for such a perfect rose.
The sudden rustle of skirts made her turn. Bernadette, her hand maid, was all but running toward her through the garden.
"Come and look at this one, Bernadette," she called out, smiling with satisfaction, her attention again focused on her rose.
"My lady," Bernadette said, gasping as she approached, "there is something—"
"Hush," Caroline admonished her as Bernadette doubled over trying to catch her breath. She took two deep breaths and wiped stray hair from her cheeks, stained pink from the cool morning air, her eyes wide and glowing with apparently delicate news.
"The Earl of Castle Black"—she gulped for air—"is here, and is in a meeting with your lord father."
Cersei, however, was much more concerned with the lovely creation resting firmly between her forefinger and thumb. "Father and his meetings?"
Bernadette dropped her gaze to the flower and gave a squeal of delight. "Oh, this one's lovely, my lady! Two colors of purple."
Cersei smirked pridefully, placing the rose in her hand maiden's outstretched hand. "More a lavender fading into purple, really. Now explain yourself. Who is here?"
Bernadette's eyes darted between the flower and Cersei. "The Earl of Castle Black," she replied very slowly.
"You mean the bastard," deadpanned Cersei.
"Well, he isn't really a bastard. Society's talked about him for years—some sort of family scandal, I think, though nothing that really damaged him socially. For a time he was courting Ygritte. Then she dumped him on his arse—"
"Bernadette!"
"_and everybody speculated that he was mean, or foul-tempered and ugly, and that's why she didn't want him." She dropped her voice to a mischievous whisper. "But I just got an excellent look at him, and he's not ugly at all."
Cersei smiled lightly as she took the lavender rose out of her handmaid's fingers, starting her way up the stone path toward the house. "Do you take me as someone who revels in idle gossip?"
Bernadette fell into step behind her. "Apologies, my lady."
Without pause, Cersei opened the kitchen door and walked into the house, placing her rose on the counter to free her hands for washing. Curiosity, however had gotten the better of her as to why her father would be meeting the Earl of Castle Black.
She promptly dismissed Bernadette and approached the closed door of her father's study, but before she could knock she heard tense, male voices. Suddenly oblivious to her position, she instinctively leaned closer to listen to the argument between the two pompous oafs on the other side.
"I'll pay you whatever you're asking, but I refuse to marry for what rightfully belongs to me," she heard a stranger's voice say in a deep, husky timbre. "My property was sold unfairly, probably illegally."
"Everything was purchased legally, Lord Snow, and I can prove it."
The voices lowered, and after a moment of listening to words too muffled to understand, she heard them again, this time louder in tone but softer in urgency as the man tried to reason with her father.
"This has nothing to do with you, Lord Tywin, but if I ever decide to marry, I'd rather she be someone of my choosing, not a daughter of yours I've never met."
"Cersei will give you a smart, sturdy son—"
"That is not the issue here!"
"A man in your position—"
"Listen to me well," she heard the earl quickly counter in a dangerously subdued voice. "I do not want to wed your daughter. I don't care how many other worthy noblemen have asked for her hand. I don't care that she is the loveliest creature this side of the Continent, that she has hair the color of sunshine or eyes the color of emeralds. I care only for my property, and by Gods, you're going to return it to me fairly. This conversation is finished."
A long, deadly silence ensued, then she heard her father's deep growl fill the air. "Perhaps you should take a look at this."
After precisely fifteen seconds the earl yelled, "Gods!" A fist slammed hard against the desk.
Her father said smugly, "It's a bill of sale. Come Monday, they're gone."
"You can't do this—"
"I will unless you marry my daughter."
Then…nothing. Silence.
Cersei's heart started pounding. For several seconds she couldn't breathe as the realization hit her like a brick in the face.
This could not be happening. She had plans, she had dreams, she had…thought her father would leave her alone.
Horrified and disoriented, Cersei slumped her shoulders and dragged her body across the hall and into the morning room. Sunlight streamed in through beveled glass to create a peaceful feeling in the lavish decorated room, but it did nothing for her ever-increasing sensation of panic. She sat heavily on the yellow sofa and stared into the cold fireplace, forcing herself to take deep breaths.
She felt shocked. Enraged. Even scared. She swallowed hard to fight back tears, for if nothing else, she needed to keep her wits intact and think things through before her father came out of his study to inform her that he'd chosen her a husband.
The thought made her shiver with revulsion.