Chapter 1

270 AC, Casterly Rock, Westerlands

Joanna watched with attentive yet loving eyes as her husband dismounted off his horse and walked towards them with a measured pace. She hid how much she wanted to run towards him and kiss him behind a serene but proud mask. Time for a lovers' welcome would be behind closed doors when they were Tywin and Joanna. At the entrance of their great castle, they were the proud Lord and Lady of House Lannister. Ty would never forgive her for such a commoner display of emotions.

Despite it, Joanna picked her finest gown, a gold and red brocade with hanging red silk sleeves, that showed her slender figure. Her husband loved seeing Joanna in House Lannister colors. She paired it with the great gold necklace encrusted with rubies and pearls that Tywin gave her as a wedding present.

"My lady," Her husband said in a formal tone – the Lord of Casterly Rock tone - that he had since he was seven – and kissed her hand with the warmth that no one else knew he had.

"My lord husband," her tone while lacking Ty's firmness was formal as well, but as they locked eyes, emerald green that she got from their grandmother, Lady Rohanne Webber, against pale green and gold ones, Joanna did nothing to hide her desire and pleasure for his return.

I know it has been far too long, his eyes told her.

He then turned to his brother, and Joanna hid her disappointment behind her perfected mask. She shouldn't be surprised, for Kevan had long ago been second in Tywin's mind. The brothers welcomed each other with a formal speech, much like hers, but Kevin showed more warmth that only the closest family would pick on.

But while everyone else was willing to wait for the return of the Great Lion of the Rock, two were not.

"Father!" Two identical children shouted in greetings.

The Lord of the Rock could not admonish his beloved twins in public, not when they were children of only four years, but Joanna could see that a conversation about proper behavior was coming as soon as they were alone.

Cersei, who had been the loudest of the two, shoved Jaime aside to get in front of her twin. She welcomed her father with a little curtsey that, while perfect, lacked any heartfelt deference. Joanna's most rambunctious child, Cersei was a daughter of the Rock. Of Joanna and Tywin. A beautiful child with wavy golden hair and Joanna's emerald eyes, Cersei already showed features that would only day make her an extraordinarily beautiful woman. More than Joanna even was. But her proud lioness was growing too vain and spoiled, even from a daughter of Tywin Lannister.

Cersei idolized her father and wished to be like him. The Lady of the Rock needed to curve these desires soon, or her child would be disappointed sooner or later. But she was confident that all she needed was time and soon would control her willful child.

"Jaime," Tywin ignored her in favor of his favorite child. His golden son.

Jaime acted with slightly less pride as he welcomed his father with the words Joanna taught him. Afterward, Cersei captured Tywin's attention. That was her charm. Forgetting protocol, Tywin did ask a few questions to his daughter, mostly about her lessons.

Even Tywin couldn't help but be charmed by his little lioness.

Cersei painted herself in the best light, even going as far as saying she was the best student, which was a blunt lie that everyone would see right through. It was the child that had yet to speak that excelled in that department.

"Myrcella," Lord Tywin, finally, called for his eldest.

"Lord Father," her little lady welcomed with the curtsey of that bespoke of the title Gerion had bestowed her.

Myrcella Lannister was indeed a little lady. At age six, she was a well-mannered, quiet and contemplative child whose complexion, while pretty, was too pale and fragile. Myrcella was easily overshadowed by her golden sister, except in her studies. At six, her eldest could write and read well above her age, and the speed which she learned surprised even her Septa and the Maester. She also showed interested in the arts, which Joanna hoped to cultivate. If only in the hopes of distracting her from hidden corners and books.

Myrcella's precociousness was the reason as to why Joanna tried to steer Jaime in the direction of his eldest sister. It was her hope that he would learn something from her. Her boy was not doing well in the reading department, and Myrcella had the patience that Joanna lacked, so two shared lessons while they were deemed too young to have different educations.

If only Cersei didn't stop most of Joanna's attempts by distracting Jaime.

If only her eldest daughter wasn't so shy and easy to bend.

Joanna had been writing to Loreza, her friend and Princess of Dorne, about betrothals. Princess Loreza was pushing for a double marriage, but as much as Joanna would love to have her son married to a Princess, Tywin would deem Elia too old and frail for Jaime. Too Dornish. He would need time to be convinced.

Cersei would flourish in Dorne, and Joanna entertained the idea of marrying her to Prince Oberyn. Despite his age, Prince Doran had yet to father any children in his Essosi wife, and with Elia married off to an heir, it wouldn't be too hard to push for Cersei's children to be the heirs of Sunspear. If Prince Doran got children, Loreza promised her lands in Dorne.

But, Queen Rhaella had written as well. She was failing to provide another child - a princess – and she suspected soon the King would have to turn elsewhere for a bride. For a future Queen. Joanna believed that Rhaella would not have another child. Not one so soon to be the prince's bride. The queen birthed Prince Rhaegar at ten-and-four amidst a traumatic event. Her womb was damaged.

Not that anyone spoke openly about it. But Joanna thought it constantly.

Prince Rhaegar would need a Queen and Tywin wanted his daughter for the position, but Joanna feared Myrcella wasn't up for the task. In a King's court, one needed more than just intellect. It required a woman of wit and cunning, and her eldest seemed to lack the latter. She also didn't seem to have any ambition in her bone, unless to read the entire Casterly Rock's library. Besides, there was a gentleness to Myrcella that Joanna pitied to see crushed at court. A marriage to an heir who would not look down on a bookish wife would be the best option. Perhaps not as great as any marriage she might get for Cersei, but Myrcella would be another Queen Rhaella, and a Lannister queen would not be weak and unimportant.

Cersei thought ... if she learned to control her vanity and pride and how to use her beauty and her charm to her advantage, she would soar as Queen.

As they walked inside the castle, Joanna added future marriages to the list of things she would need to speak with Tywin about.

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276 AC, Casterly Rock, Westerlands

Her niece was praying. Again. The sun was barely in the sky and the girl was on bended knees in front of the statue of the Mother. A candle alight at the foot of the said statue.

Genna Lannister, much to her Septa displeasure, wasn't a very pious woman. Unlike their Little Lady, who was turning into a Little Septa. Her devotion was becoming something that even Tywin was starting to take notice of. And her brother did not like his daughter's steadfast faith.

A devout and pious Lannister, what the world had come to, Gerion had japed at their siblings' meeting. Tywin had been as displeased with the jape as with Myrcella's septa-like nature, but Genna couldn't control her smile.

But she was beginning to see the problem.

There was a great tourney going on, young squires and knights from all around the country training in the various courtyards and training grounds, and ladies of all ages tended to wake early to watch them. But her niece was inside House Lannister's private sept in Lannisport. Praying.

Genna made a practiced but not heartfelt pray. She did thank whatever higher power gave her niece the good sense of wearing a brown wool cloak that stopped her skirts from getting dirty.

Myrcella offered her one of her shy smiles, but while they tended to light her face up, this time, the girl's solemnly was turning into a very unusual gloom. Something was wrong with the girl. While Genna wasn't as close to Myrcella as she was to Cersei, whose temperament and nature charmed and delighted Genna, the girl's golden flecked pale green eyes – Tywin's eyes – were shadowed by something haunting.

Solemn, bookish, and now melancholic, no wonder the girl had gotten along with Prince Rhaegar.

It had been a shock to all, for it was Cersei Tywin was hoping to propose as the future wife to the crown prince. Cersei had put on her best behavior, trying for an opportunity to talk and charm Prince Rhaegar, but he barely acknowledged her. Genna assured the girl that it was due to Cersei's young age, for the prince was too gallant to think of romance when looking at a girl of barely ten namesday. And she even believed it, for who could ignore Tywin's little lioness. Until Genna had caught the Crown Prince talking with her eldest niece in the library, books open between them, and while she wouldn't call the conversation animated, it did appear a long one. And not the first.

It didn't take long for others to catch on to the situation.

Cersei did not take it well being in the shadows from once her life. And while Genna had not seen it, and no one seemed to, Myrcella's slightly red cheekbone and hurried put-together braid that she appeared at dinner wearing told Genna all that she needed to know.

The girls never had an easy relationship, but it had never come to physical blows. Cersei tended to be confrontative towards Myrcella, but the eldest would let her sister say her vain and at times cruel words and react with a nod and take her leave of whatever room they were in. While Genna congratulated the girl for handling the situation peacefully, she couldn't help but wonder why the girl never replied. Was it simply in her nature? Did she not felt the hurt those words would cause any other girl?

Even at a tender age, Tywin would never react to a slight in such a childish and public way like Cersei, but he would also never allow someone to go unpunished for it.

Genna had tried to do damage control and not let gossips spread of the sisters' hostility. But Cersei's confrontations were growing more public as if the girl believed she could get anyway with insulting Tywin's eldest child in front of servants.

Genna shook her head. She never had sisters, yet, it seemed her nieces' confrontations were not typical sisters' rivalry. But she also knew not to hope for a close relationship between the two. Any change of that died with Joanna.

The death of their mother changed the girls. Cersei became vainer and prouder but also more charming and capable of manipulating the girls around her. She had a flock of young girls and boys around her that believed she was the maiden reborn.

Myrcella had little company, spending her free time in the library, the sept, or doing some charity work.

And her closest companion seemed to be baby Tyrion.

If Cersei hated her youngest brother and pretended to only have one sibling, Myrcella took to Tyrion as if the boy was her own child. She read to him, played with him, sang him to sleep, taught him the letters and numbers, sow his clothes, carried him around the castle when he was tired of his rooms, and treated him as if the boy wasn't a dwarf who her beloved mother died giving birth too.

Joanna had confided in Genna that Myrcella had a gentleness to her that while it might make her weak, but that was not without its own charms. She wished that gentleness would be preserved but knew sooner or later would be crushed.

Genna understood why, for her pale and dainty niece caused in her a sense of protectiveness. And she was Gerion's, perhaps even Kevan's favorite for that.

"Aunt Genna, have you come to pray?" the girl asked with a low tone.

"I came to find you. You should be preparing for the day. Your septa should have awoken you for that propose, not to pray."

"I know, Aunt Genna. I will get ready in time. You have my word. I beg you, do not put the blame on Septa Saranella, for it was I who awoke her for an early praying."

Genna was beginning to notice the circles around her large eyes. "And what made you come here? I thought you were going to attend midnight holy service?"

"I did," the girl shifted, her hands clasped on each other. "When I returned from Lannisport with Briony and Septa Saranella, I saw," Genna noticed how the girl hid her trembling hands in her sleeves. "I saw something that shook me."

"What?" Genna asked, suddenly worried for the girl's paleness.

"A crime in the gardens, by the well, Aunt Genna." She said very fast, then took a deep breath to calm herself. "Or what should be a crime, but both my companions told me such thing would not be punished."

The girl looked so frustrated and indignant that Genna wanted to laugh. Her niece was too sensitive and strict. At that time of the night and in that place ... Myrcella likely saw a couple engage in some carnal action that shook her pious core.

"And you came here because of it?"

At Genna's little smile, the girl seemed to lose her spirit. Perhaps, realizing her actions were, in her innocence, foolish.

"I needed to confess my sins. Septon Dorian takes confession in the early morning, and I needed to pray to the Father and the Mother."

"My girl, you did not commit a crime that needed confession for," This girl was too pious for her own good. If Rhaegar does pick her, he might end up with a second Naerys.

The girl said nothing to that, only turned her eyes down.

"Come one, let's get you ready. Nothing like a tourney to turn one's gloom into glee."

Even as she said it, Genna knew her niece did not believe her.

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282 AC, the Tower of the Hand, King's Landing

How could the sea be so calm when there was a storm brewing on the land? The peaceful summer morning seemed almost like a joke from the Gods Above.

Myrcella clutched her book of prayers, the one she hid from her Lord Father, that was gifted to her by the Queen. Holding on to the book as she tried to calm her beating heart and trembling hands.

She wished her mind could be as tranquil as the sea. But she had not known such serenity since that day.

A commotion in the courtyard had awoken her. Surely it must have awoken half the Red Keep. Myrcella, who always had a light sleep, knew her night ended right there. Just like other times when she awoke too early, she rose and went to her window seat to read.

But on that day, the noise did not end after a couple of minutes, and Myrcella sensed something was not right. Her view was over the Narrow Sea, the opposite side where said noises were coming from.

The sun was barely rising outside. She had to wait to know what was happening.

It had been hours after that Briony had entered with the news – shocking news.

Afterward, sleep was never easy, and she had taken to drink a calming tea before bed. It worked little, for when she closed her eyes, all Myrcella heard were screams, and all she saw was green.

Like every time she found herself lost, and they were many for a maid of her age, she turned to her faith for guidance.

But for the first time in her life, her morning prayer did not go to the Mother, nor the Crone, nor the Father.

"May the Warrior grant me courage for what I am about to do," she whispered for the hundred time as a knock came.

Myrcella Lannister hoped the Warrior heard her, for courage was something she lacked. Craven, weakling, stupid. Even half a country away, Cersei's voice was present in her mind.