Cersei took a deep draught from her glass, emptying it for the third time this night. Even a mention of this cursed wasteland drove her to wine, and now she was in Winterfell and drowning in cups. She had always wondered what fool would willingly inhabit this hellhole. The answer was the miserable cunts that let their brats roll in the dirt along with the animals and wore the fur of those very same animals.
The door creaked open and Cersei's male face walked in. Jaime looked from her to the wine glass and raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the window.
"Did my wonderful Lord Husband have anything of particular interest to impart to you tonight?"
Jaime leaned over the chair and kissed her neck softly, "It isn't smart to overindulge, Cersei. Not while we're here, under observation."
"And, yet, here you are, dear brother, in my chamber, late at night," she in turn raised her eyebrow at him. He backed away from her, lips pressed into a thin line and fingered his belt where his sword normally hung. Cersei gulped wine again, smoothing her hair, irritated.
"King Robert has informed Lord Stark of the… arrangement. It will be announced during tomorrow night's feast."
"And Lord Wolf made no objections?" Another drink. She would give them credit at least for their wine was good.
Jaime leaned against the window and peered out towards the lights of Winterfell's keep, "All he asked was the wedding takes place in their home. Which works even more in Baratheon's favor, as this way our father won't have time to object."
"How poetic, the lion and wolf married at Winterfell, the den of wolves." Cersei looked up at her brother and Jaime imagined misery or despair in her eyes. He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. He was trying to be soft, gentle, but Cersei never had any of that. She surged forward and roughly sucked his bottom lip drawing a moan from him. She tasted of deep-spiced wine and honey and he could happily drunk from this cup for eternity. But this time, he pulled away.
"Let's leave, right now, Cersei. Forget Winterfell and Kings Landing. Forget Robert and the Stark girl. Just you and I, away from everything and everyone." His breath was harsh and his chest rose and fell heavily.
She stared at him for a moment, before letting out a harsh laugh, "Now when you're confronted with an arrange marriage, you come up with plan of escape. Oh, no, Jaime, you'll suffer the same as me. Leaving isn't an option. Robert will not be around much longer if he continues in the same lifestyle and I will not abandon Joffery. He will take the throne and I will be there to see it." Her voice had steadily risen and was now at shouting pitch. She stood up and shoved him away from her, "I've suffered seventeen years and will not give it all up at the turn of the tide, because you're afraid of a sixteen year old girl."
Jaime had become more accustomed to her recent outbursts. The stress of motherhood and Queen's reign had driven her to delve deeper into wine cups and aimless fury. The best way back into her good graces was apologies and often flattery, but tonight was different. He hadn't come to comfort her. He had come to be comforted. He knew it was pointless to continue conversation when she was obviously furious about more than just his suggestion of flight. He turned on his heel and strode from the room.
He would find Tyrion and they would drown in their own wine as well.
Arya and Merilyn were curled up in bed, whispering quietly. All the girls had shared a room at one point; until Sansa insisted upon her own now that she was nearly a woman. Merilyn had always found her sisters' presences comforting and never wished for her own.
"Sansa thinks Prince Joffery is handsome," Arya looked at her sister uncomfortably and shook her head, "I don't."
Merilyn stroked Arya's dark hair back, "Sansa finds Joffery favorable because he is a Prince. Our sister dreams of finding the knights and princes of Old in her own life."
Arya made a blech noise and snuggled closer into the mattress, yawning, "I'd rather be a knight than find one."
"And what a valiant knight you would be, Arya!" Merilyn laughed. There was a knock on the door and Merilyn called for them to enter. Their mother walked in, smiling as she saw both her daughters in bed and half asleep. Her smile turned sad as she looked at her eldest daughter.
Merilyn's birth had been the hardest of all her six children. Maybe it had been because her body wasn't ready for another child, but Catelyn could not resist giving her husband and lord one final goodbye before he left her to wage war with Baratheon. In his absence, he had received a daughter through a labor of a full day and insurmountable pain. But her beautiful, kind, perfect daughter had been worth the entire struggle for Catelyn. She had watched her grow into a woman, and now would watch her as she was sent away from home, from everything her young daughter held dear and knew. Tears pricked her eyes and she steeled herself quickly, kissing both her daughters good night. She would let Merilyn Alayne Stark have a final night as a carefree child before tomorrow's nightmare.
Ned had spared no moments relaying King Robert's brilliant plan to Catelyn.
"It's absurd, Cat. She's hardly a woman and Jaime Lannister has long since been a child. He's almost our own age! She would be forced to leave the North. I cannot agree to that." He paced in front of the fire as Catelyn observed him from their bed.
"Ned, think about what you're saying. All her life, we – her parents have been preparing her for this very thing, marriage. And now she is promised a very, very promising arrangement! You cannot think to forgo this and marry her to some farmer of the North."
"At least with a farmer of the North, she would be safe!" Ned roared, angrily.
Cat stood up and placed a hand upon her Lord Husband's arm, "Merilyn is a Stark, strong and noble, like the line you've come from. She is brave and deserves more than a simple man from a small town. This gives Winterfell stability, a tie to the Lannisters. Do you imagine Jaime Lannister will murder her in her sleep or something?"
Ned took a deep breath, "I just cannot believe this is what we have come to. That our children are the game pieces of other's battle."
"That's how it's always been. I was given to the Starks and my mother to the Tullys. And now Merilyn will become a Lannister and do us proud."
Ned had left to go to the Godswood after that. Catelyn knew he would not ever come to terms with this marriage in the private mind of Eddard Stark – the father, but Eddard Stark – Lord of Winterfell would concede. Even though Ned had said he thought of Robert Baratheon as a brother, the King was still the King and thought this match better than any other her parents could arrange for her. And Ned's duty to his King and the Seven Kingdoms came above all else. She would soothe him in the morning light, telling him it would not be the loss of a daughter. Merilyn would not be abandoned or forgotten.
Silently, Catelyn stood and looked into her chest that was hidden at the bed's foot. Inside were keepsakes from her past: each child's blanket she had sewn during her carrying of them, locks of her children's hair, odd toys that she had saved from the fire, and there at the bottom was her own wedding dress she had worn oh so many years ago.
She pulled it out and thought of her husband and how her marriage had been arranged as well. She'd been betrothed to Ned's brother first, had known nothing of young Eddard Stark until his brother, her betrothed's death, and then in a whirlwind of madness had found herself married to this stranger. They had learned, had grown together.
Was it wrong to wish the same kindness she had found in her marriage bed on her daughter?