Chapter Three
A/N: Thank you to ladyres, ptl4ever419, magnus374 and Quindecim for reviewing the last chapter.
Sand flew up in a great cloud around the stirrups, as another young knight went tumbling from his horse, his pride and reputation landing beside him in the dirt.
Cersei let out a sigh. For all the prestige that had been awarded them, the knights of the Westerlands were accomplishing no more impressive feats of valour than providing an entertaining spectacle when they fell. Two of her uncles had already been defeated, despite being deemed two of the most brilliant knights to come from the West. 'Jaime would have done better.' she thought, though her brother was only ten years old.
She looked across to where her twin sat, in the place of honour beside their father, just a few feet away from the king himself. Jealousy was not an attractive trait in a young lady, so her septa said, and nor was anger, so Cersei tried to conceal her emotions, if only to avoid another tedious lecture. Her brother had her father's full attention, something she herself could only dream of, and yet he looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. 'If only I'd been born the son.' she could not help but think.
Beside her sat Melara, gazing in wonder at the ornate painted armour of the knights from the capital with a mouth gaping wide enough to be considered highly unladylike. Melara was the daughter of a minor knight in her father's service and was the least irritating of the wards Tywin Lannister had taken in to ensure their loyalty, though only by a slim margin, as Cersei often thought. Still, her father had insisted she spend time in the company of young ladies, so she supposed Melara would have to do.
"Aren't they wonderful, Cersei?" the young girl exclaimed, watching the next two challengers ride to the post. Cersei responded with a tight smile and a nod, not trusting herself to address the foolish girl without drawing attention to herself. 'I cannot make a spectacle of myself, not when the prince may be watching.'
She had asked her father earlier about the prince's absence from the crowd, but he had merely shaken his head. "He will ride in the joust, child. It would not do for him to sit in the stands alongside the ladies when he ought to be preparing to fight."
In all honesty, it was the only thing that had kept her from fleeing to her rooms, the notion that soon the prince would enter the lists, dressed in his black-painted armour, with the ruby dragon on his breastplate. It was famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms for its beauty, although the smallfolk often said that no soldier had ever seen the armour well enough to examine it, such was his speed on horseback.
It was another half hour of embarrassment for the West, the only promising rider a freakishly large boy who was rumoured to be only a year older than Cersei herself, before the prince finally rode into sight. It would only be one more round before he competed and she found herself suddenly unable to sit still. Scores of knights competing for her homeland had approached the stands, asking to wear her favour as they rode, but she had politely dismissed them all, knowing that the prince himself would likely make the same request. 'He could not ask anyone else.' she told herself over and over again, her smile growing wider with each repetition. 'Not with my father watching, and his. They would be furious if he overlooked me.'
Cersei was so caught up in her mind that she did not notice Septa Sarella calling her, only being pulled from her reverie by the woman's hand pulling on her sleeve. The girl instantly tugged her arm away, knowing her gown to be made of azure silk that could tear or mark at the slightly provocation, spoiling her appearance before the prince. The septa looked ready to chastise Cersei but seemed to think better of it, instead indicating a drably dressed woman on the edge of the lists, wringing her apron in frustration.
"Dyanne wishes to speak with you, my lady." Septa Sarella reported, barely able to mask her glee at the horror which crossed Cersei's face at her prospective task. Dyanne only had one role in the household; to care for her dwarf brother. "It seems that the young lord will not settle, he refuses to go to bed. She thought you may be able to convince him."
"Me?" Cersei questioned, not bothering to mask her incredulous tone. "Tyrion would not listen to me, little monster; he'd probably beat me about the head with a pillow. The only one who can soothe him is Jaime."
"Your brother is with your lord father, just a seat apart from His Grace. You cannot expect the poor woman to take a message to him within the king's own hearing." The septa was trying the young girl's patience; she could see that she was being given no way to escape this.
"Then why can you not take the message?" Cersei was close to begging. She would do anything to avoid this fate. Another knight had been knocked from his horse and it would not be long before the prince took his place in the lists. If she could only stall a few more minutes.
"Cersei." Septa Sarella's voice had become lower now, more dangerous. It was reminiscent of her father's voice when angered and sent a chill down Cersei's spine. It seemed there was no more argument to be had.
Cersei stood from the bench, edging around Melara and followed her septa, biting her lip to prevent the welling tears from spilling. 'A lion does not weep.' she reminded herself. 'Nor does a dragon.'
As she wandered into the castle behind the lowly maid, dawdling slightly, the young girl turned her head across her shoulder, pulling back the curtain of golden hair that fell across her eyes to see the prince ride into the lists. She cursed her young brother, digging her nails into her palms with anger and turned towards the Rock once more. No other girl would take her place in the prince's affections, she would make certain of it.
A/N: I know it's been forever, but we nearly have a new series, I've finished my exams and I thought it might be nice to have an update. Hope you enjoy, and please review!
