Chapter Twelve
A/N: Thank you to magnus374 and timijaf for reviewing the last chapter.
Though she went in search of Rhaegar soon after she arrived, Cersei never found the prince, who was always occupied in council meetings or fighting practices. The day of their wedding dawned with silence between them, and the girl could not help but wish they had spoken one final time beforehand.
Her father's strict instructions had worked wonders, producing a treasure trove of gowns for her to select from. There were greens, blues, a dozen reds, with threads and beads in every colour imaginable. One gown, her father's choice, was made of a satin so deep a crimson it was almost black, sewn with golden lions and dragon wings. It was a powerful gown, somehow, the kind a queen would wear… but she did not yet wish to be a queen.
The gown she chose was that of a young maiden, innocence and sweetness seeming to be stitched between the threads. The gown was pure white silk, with flowers stitched in gold and vines in silver climbing along the delicate fabric. The fabric bore a deep slash along her left leg, revealing the cloth of gold that formed her underskirt. Her father had insisted, after all, on some display of wealth, no doubt to remind the king of the power his daughter would bring to her marriage, and it had not seemed worth the fight to argue.
Cersei may have bent to her father's will on the gown, but she won the battle for her jewels, with only a simple string of moonstones across the crown of her head and her own Lannister crest pendant lying between her breasts. It had been a gift from her mother, the one thing her father had allowed to be taken from his wife's affairs after she passed. There was something of her mother's spirit in the piece, simple and yet proud; it was almost as if the woman would walk with to the Sept.
"Come along, my lady." called Septa Sarella, but there was a reverence in her tone that had not been there before. It seemed the devout woman was only the first to realise the truth, that within the hour, young Lady Cersei would be royalty.
Cersei did not call an answer, as she once would have done; her newfound dignity would not allow for such a childish response. Instead, she crossed to the heavy door and pulled it open, revealing to the small crowd gathered there the first vision of the new princess.
Awe-filled gasps and sighs of joy filled the small corridor, and Cersei could not help but smile at that, that she had provoked such a fervent response without even having to speak. She remembered her aunt Dorna saying something of the like when she was young: true beauty outweighs a thousand speeches. Aunt Genna had scoffed at her for that; somehow, Cersei could not quite remember why.
No sooner had she thought the woman's name than her aunt rounded a corner, draped head to toe in Lannister red and gold. She had been a Frey for more than two decades now, but Lady Genna still refused to don her husband's colours, not willing to 'lower herself' to wear grey and blue.
"Oh, Cersei." the woman breathed, overcome with a rare display of emotion. Lady Genna had always been a pillar of strength in public, near as solid and taciturn as her beloved elder brother. But the woman had no daughters of her own and so, Cersei supposed, she was claiming the moment that ought rightfully to have been Joanna's. "You are truly a beauty, my girl. The prince will be a lucky man to have you."
"Thank you, Aunt Genna." Cersei smiled, taking the woman's arm. Her father, it seemed, would not deign to visit his daughter in her chambers. He would stand proud at the doors of the Sept, listening to the cheers of the crowds and relishing the affection the people showed to his family over Aerys.
And true enough, as Cersei stepped down from her carriage, there stood Tywin Lannister, watching as she climbed the steps, his golden pin of authority gleaming against his crimson doublet. Draped across his arm was a crimson cloak, embroidered with gold thread, the same cloak her mother had donned on their wedding day. He remained solid as ever, of course, but as he clasped the cloak across her shoulders and took her hand in his, Cersei almost thought she saw a smile creep across his lips.
"This is the moment you have been waiting for." Lord Tywin stated, his voice low but not entirely unaffectionate. "Today you will become a princess, soon you shall be a queen, and the next king to sit the Iron Throne after Rhaegar will have lion's blood in his veins. This is your greatest contribution to the legacy of our House, Cersei. Make certain you do not forget that."
"Yes, Father." Cersei agreed, her heart in her throat. Her father's speeches were always intended to make her feel like the lion she rightfully was, but as the heavy doors were pulled open, Cersei felt no more than a cub.
There must have been a thousand people gathered in the Sept, each lord and lady desperate to claim they had attended the wedding of the future king and queen. Their voices were hushed in tone, but still a cacophony against the songs of the young wards of the Sept. The Lannisters stood proudest of all, the foremost among them gathered beside Aerys, Rhaella and young Prince Viserys; they were equally matched to royalty, now that a royal would be one of their number. The golden-haired girl craned her neck, but she could not see her favourite brother, only the little monster, peering his head around his uncles' legs.
Cersei tried to ignore the thousand faces watching her as she walked down the aisle, the scores of eyes raking feverishly over her body, as if she were a prized cow in a street market and not their future queen. The young woman held her head high, rising above their base perversions. She was a Lannister, and she would not cringe for lesser lords' indiscretions.
At long last, she reached the altar, set high on marble steps beneath the watchful eyes of the Father and the Mother, and there stood Rhaegar, cloaked in black and crimson, his silver hair like moonlight shining through the darkened sky. Balanced carefully across his arms laid a cloak of black silk stitched with scarlet, a far lighter weight on her shoulders than the Lannister brocade had been. Or mayhaps it was the knowledge that her fate rested in Rhaegar's hands instead of her father's now that made her feel free.
"We are gathered here to witness the marriage of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen, heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and the lady Cersei of House Lannister." proclaimed the septon, raising his arms to the crowd in a gesture too grand for even this occasion. "I invite you both now to speak the words and to bind yourselves together."
Cersei turned to face her intended, emerald eyes meeting amethyst, and fought the fear that seemed to smother her. 'There is no need to fear,' she told herself. 'You will wed Rhaegar and all will be well. The conflicts will end, the alliance will stand, and all will be as it was once more.'
Even she was not naïve enough to believe it, but the thought calmed her enough to allow her to speak the words, Rhaegar's voice echoing over the top of her own.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband."
"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife."
Only a handful of words and the briefest of kisses, and yet it was enough to bind Cersei to the man before her for all that remained of their lives. The septon grinned joyfully, raising his arms once more.
"Prince Rhaegar and Lady Cersei have spoken the words and sealed their vows with a kiss. They are now man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."
The Great Sept thundered with applause, some of the more callous lords even cheering and whistling at the wedded couple. Cersei met her father's eye for a moment and saw the pure joy in his gaze, even if no one would ever assume it from his expression. She did not look to King Aerys, fearful of what she might see in his eyes.
Finally, the young woman turned to Rhaegar, her lord husband now, wondering if those vital words might have changed him. He was surveying the crowd with a blank gaze, a smile of acknowledgement that did not quite meet his eyes. For a moment, Cersei feared the worst. And then he looked over at her, and his smile grew a little wider, his dull eyes beginning to shine again. It was a comfort unlike any other she could have known, realising that she had not signed away her life in vain. Rhaegar was hers, and she was his, from this day until the end of her days.
A/N: I really wanted to use the words from the GoT wedding ceremony, but didn't think they were canonically accurate for the books, so I put a hint in the end. And so Rhaegar and Cersei are finally wed, but as she acknowledges herself, it's not the end of their problems. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review!
