Cersei let go of her brother's hand as they walked into her bedroom ahead of Father. He wouldn't approve of hand-holding, and there was no need to make things worse than they already were. She didn't look at Jaime, and she hoped he wasn't looking at her. The only thing guaranteed to make Father less happy than one of his children sneaking off against his express orders, was if he found out both of them had conspired against him together.

'Come here,' Father crooked his finger at her. She went and stood in front of him. His glacial gaze took in her messy hair, her ragged fingernails and hands black with dirt, her clothes which were Jaime's shirt and breeches. 'What in the gods names are you wearing?' he muttered. 'You look like a filthy urchin.' He clicked his tongue at the huge disappointment he obviously considered her to be. She said nothing.

'Jaime.' Father turned to his son, business-like. 'You impressed me today with your sword skills. I could not fault your dedication, nor your willingness to improve yourself. Unlike your sister here,' he hissed the word through his teeth as if even saying it pained him, 'it appears you have actually been putting effort into your studies. But you -' he turned back to Cersei, 'This is the second time today you've disobeyed me. So now, you will be punished.'

There was a long silence, where she guessed she was meant to fearfully anticipate what he had in store for her. She kept her face impassive, clenched her teeth together. I will not give you the satisfaction, she thought. She already knew, anyway. Had seen the long thin cane with the black leather handle leaning up against the wall beside her door.

Father walked over to the wall. Picked up the cane and flipped it to point upwards with deliberate flair. Then he walked back to resume his position in front of Cersei. The unjustness of what was about to happen rose up inside her like bile and came flying out of her mouth.

'If I was allowed to practise sword-fighting, I would be good at it too! I'm just as good as Jaime at fighting, and he's just as bad as me at needlepoint!'

Father inclined his head slowly, an eyebrow cocked as if he couldn't quite believe her insolent outburst. He waited an agonisingly long time before speaking, and Cersei could see out of the corner of her eye that Jaime's face had lost all its colour and he was biting his lower lip She resolved then to be brave for both of them, and show no reaction, no matter what happened.

'You really are a difficult child,' Father sighed. 'And a fantasist. As good as Jaime, at fighting?' He gave a mirthess chuckle. 'The boy can best half my guards already; in another year he'll best them all. He has more natural talent with a sword than I have ever seen from one his age. But more importantly, he applies himself tirelessly to bettering his skills, skills that are possessed only by those of his gender. Women lack strength and stategic thinking. Something that you seem to be too obstinate to understand.'

He paused and shook his head. 'I would think that at twelve, girl, you are quite old enough to start behaving properly, and repaying some of the investment I've made in you up until this point. You've had the best nannies, the best teachers, the best opportunities. And how do you respond?' He waited, as if he were sincerely inviting her to answer, which of course he wasn't, and she didn't. He continued on: 'You respond with disobedience. Defiance. Laziness. Over and over again. Well, you will learn. You might hate me, but you will learn.'

He lifted the cane and ran it through his gloved hands. 'You,' he looked at Jaime, 'Go up to the study and wait for me there. You,' he looked back at Cersei, 'Turn around.'

Jaime spoke up suddenly. 'No - don't! I... I was the one who told her to come outside. She didn't want to, she wanted to stay in her room, but I made her. It was my fault, only mine.'

Father smiled at Jaime. 'Taking responsibility, eh? Admirable.' He considered his son for a moment. Cersei glanced at Jaime, silently acknowledging his futile heroics. Jaime's eyes blazed and his chin jutted out. Cersei had never known Father to change his mind about anything once it was made up.

'Good.' Father said, with a smile that could have cut glass. 'You want to take responsibility for this little travesty? You can stay and watch. See exactly what you helped to occur. Come here, boy, and stand next to me.'

Jaime reluctantly walked over and stood beside the door. Cersei felt his eyes on her, maybe trying to give her strength or reassurance, but she refused to look at him. She thought if she did she might crack.

'Turn around, girl,' Father commanded.

She did as she was told.

'Lean over the bed. Pull down those...' she imagined the curl of Father's lip as he said it, '... breeches.'

Cersei obeyed him, refusing to let her hands tremble. The air was cold on her legs. He thought he was going to make her cry, but she wouldn't. She ground her jaw together so it wouldn't open and betray her. She wouldn't cry in front of Jaime. You can't make me.

'Keep your underclothes on,' Father said. 'Your brother is watching.'

We swam together naked but an hour ago. My nakedness means nothing to Jaime, you foolish old man.

'Don't turn your face away,' she heard Father address Jaime behind her. 'For every stroke I think you aren't watching, she will recieve another one. Do you understand?'

It felt like time stretched out and every second was endless. Cersei stared at the intricate patterns on her counterpane, at her hands crossed in front of her face. She could see her fingernails with little crescents of dirt under them. Blood roared in her ears and her mind was blank.

There was a whistling sound, and the cane hit her. It hurt worse than she'd expected, like fire. Almost immediately, tears sprang into her eyes. She squeezed them shut.

'One,' counted Father.

Cersei promised herself she wouldn't cry out. And up until the fifth stroke, she kept her promise. By the tenth, she didn't care any more.

Afterwards, she blamed Tyrion. If he hadn't delayed them with his stupid puppy, Jaime and her may have got away with it. Ruining everything as he always did, ever since he'd been born. Not that she regretted going with Jaime to the rock pool. She didn't regret anything she did with Jaime.

She lay on her bed, her backside and legs numb, face hot with dried tears, missing her mother so much it made her ache all the way inside. If Mother were alive, she never would have let Father treat her this way. She would have stopped him. What sense did the world have, when something like Tyrion lived, and someone like Mother died? Her beautiful, doting, compassionate mother. Mother was worth a thousand dwarves.

Cersei's stomach hurt from not eating since breakfast, and she was thirsty. After a long time, she got up and lit a candle, retrieved her crumpled gown off the floor. She balled it up and found a shard of broken vase beside the bed. Carefully, wrapping her sleeve around the end to stop cutting her hand, she dug the sharp edge of the crystal into the stitches that held the sections of dress together, snapping each one. She unpicked every embroidered flower. It took over an hour but by the time she was finished, not even the most skilled seamstess in Westeros could have restored the gown.

She lay down on her bed, slept for a while. It was late at night when Jaime crept into the room and woke her by sliding his cold feet into her legs.

'Hey Cers,' he said.

She turned over to face him. Nothing needed to be said, so she just lay next to him and felt his warm breath on her face. He touched her cheeks with the tips of his fingers and wiped tears away that she didn't know were there.

'I hate him,' Jaime said. 'I hate him so much.'

Cersei sighed. 'Hating him achieves nothing.'

'Are you hungry? I saved you some food. You want it?'

'Thanks. Maybe later.'

Jaime snuggled closer, put his arm around her. 'I didn't watch, you know. He made me look but I didn't see.'

'How do you mean?'

'I go away... inside of myself. Like, I'm there but I'm not, you know? Do you do that too?'

Cersei remembered wishing that she could escape her body, but being unable to. In contrast, she'd felt more present in her self than normal, more sensitive and with heightened awareness to every burning shock of pain.

'I can't,' she said, jealous that Jaime had a means of escape like that. 'How do you do it?'

'I don't know. It just happens when... things are too much.'

'Watching me getting a beating was too much?' she laughed a little. 'You should try being the one getting it.'

'Every time he hit you, I felt it,' Jaime said, his voice serious. It was almost funny, because Jaime was never serious. 'It hurt me just as much. No Cers, it hurt me more to watch you getting hurt, because... it was you.'

Cersei saw in the candlelight that Jaime's green eyes glimmered with tears. She knew he was speaking the truth, and that no matter what happened, he would be on her side always. That she'd never be truly alone as long as he lived, and that other people could try and keep them apart but they would always find a way to be together.

'What did he make you do, in the study?' she asked.

'Writing. Reading.' Jaime sounded disgusted. 'For five hours. He told me Tyrion could read better than I can.'

'Who cares. You have arms and legs that work properly.'

Jaime looked thoughtful. 'I worry Father is going to find out about that puppy. I told Tyrry to put him in the servant's entrance porch, behind the kitchens, in a box. Father never goes there, he should be safe.'

So you two can train the mutt up together, run around in the woods together hunting, while I'm stuck inside with Septa? Great, Cersei thought. 'I hope Father does find out,' she said, bitterly. 'It will serve the little monster right for making us get caught -'

'Hey, it wasn't Tyrry's fault. He's too young to understand, Cers.'

'He's a horrible little - cursed - little creature -'

'Shhh Cers, shhh it's alright.' Jaime hugged her tight and kissed her hair. 'You don't mean it. He loves us and we're all in this together. All of us.'

Cersei lay still. Easy for you to say, she thought, no-one beat you until you almost couldn't breathe because Tyrion wanted to show off a dumb dog.

She lay quietly beside Jaime, listening to his breath grow deeper and more rhythmic until she was sure he was asleep. She dozed and dreamed they were standing on the edge of the waterfall and he was telling her to dive off, that he would be right behind her, but when she looked down she was scared of how far away the water was. They were so high she felt dizzy, and as she stood on the ledge, it got higher and higher until clouds drifted around their feet. She knew the falling would be the worst part, that it would make her feel sick, but then Jaime grabbed her hand and dived off with her, and the falling wasn't scary at all, it was like flying.

She woke up to Jaime talking softly, whether to her or himself she didn't know. 'Father was wrong. He says you can't do the things I do, because you're weaker than me. But that's not true. You are just like me.'

She closed her eyes, and then she was asleep.