The king is dead. Long live the king.
The scars of Aerys reign and the recent rebellion hung over the kingdom in torn banners, those returning from the war as bloodied and bandaged as the few who witnessed the former king's final descent to madness. A sword in the back is a coward's kill, or so they said, and Cersei couldn't help but feel the whispered words crawl across her skin like so many ants, the single name swarming her like a host of flies. Kingslayer. Jaime. He did it for me, she thinks, wandering the Red Keep late at night, as she was wont to do. He did it for me so I wouldn't face Rhaella's fate, a beast of burden for beatings and rapes. But the act still soiled the Lannister name, so soon before her wedding.
Queen you shall be. The promised words echoed in her ears with each breath in the Keep, each time she saw Rhaegar, proud and resplendent and everything she had ever dreamed of. She wasn't some blushing maiden, not after so many years at her twin's hand, but this was the Prince, now the King. It would be different, surely. Jaime, precious and loved as he was, was no Rhaegar. She didn't imagine the Prince to be the type to frequent the pleasure houses so abundant in King's Landing, but she also couldn't conceive the thought of him being inexperienced. He must know things, things her brother couldn't dream of. No, she wasn't a blushing nervous maiden, but looking out at the smattering of lantern lights over the city she was blushing, excitement and eagerness making her blood boil and rise to her skin. Queen, and to such a King as ever was. She almost pitied Lyanna Stark, or Baratheon now, for her oaf of a husband. Lyanna who had spoken so frankly to her at Harrenhall, when Rhaegar had been tempted to shirk the betrothal between the Lion and the Dragon. He hadn't wanted to marry a girl 6 years younger than him, nor have to wait for her to mature so he could marry her. He wanted a wife, and not a girl, but a woman.
The Prince hadn't been expecting the brilliance of the Lannisters. Cersei may have been a slightly too tall eleven year old when he'd seen her 4 years before; dressing in her brothers squire's clothes and playing at swords in the gardens between her lessons, but four years was a long time. Back at Casterly Rock that girl had become a woman worthy of the title of most beautiful, as her father so often promised she was, usually while assuring them both that Rhaegar couldn't possibly want to break the engagement once he saw her. So the old lion took his twins to the tourney at Harrenhall, his daughter dressed in red silks more decadent than even the royal family was wearing. Lannister gold, filling the royal coffers and marking them out as the wealthiest in all of Westeros.
Her fears were assuaged when Rhaegar didn't recognize her at first, until she boldly began a conversation with him at the first night's feast. After that the rest of their courtship was a formality, a game of wits and enchantment. The Prince hadn't needed to sweep his bride off her feet but he had anyway, and Cersei felt all the more in love with him for it. She did love him, much more than she thought she could ever love anyone. Jaime, her twin, her other half, bore much of her love… and yet Rhaegar held her admiration, desire, and adoration.
And come sun down tomorrow she would be his and he hers. The young lioness smiled into the night, the smell of the city she usually recoiled from not bothering her tonight. Her impending wedding left her with too much lightness for the stench of sewage to dampen her mood.
After several minutes she heard the steady footsteps of her King on the flagstones behind her. Quiet as they were she had come to know them well, as they increasingly pushed the limits of courtship. Arranged betrothals often led to often-stumbled first steps in a marriage, but Cersei had spent the months immediately after Harrenhall in an extended courtship, due to the Greyjoy rebellion. She and Rhaegar had had more than enough time to get to know each other, and she was almost completely comfortable around him. Only rarely did she let herself miss Jaime's company, now that he was temporarily distanced from her, and the closeness they shared as twins. They were the same, but Rhaegar was something totally unequaled, and she found it was getting easier to be with him, to speak honestly and without guarding herself. She hoped and saw that he felt the same.
Rhaegar rested his hands over hers on the edge of the window and she smiled softly. Often they found each other up late at night like this, both insomniacs it seemed. He rested his palms over hers and linked their fingers, bending slightly to set his head on her shoulder. "I figured I would find you asleep for once," he teased quietly, his deep velvet baritone sending shivers down her spine. "Although you don't need beauty sleep." Her smile broadened, but she didn't smirk. He was sweet so regularly now, little comments like that no longer felt like hard-won victories.
"I find I'm too excited to sleep, my King," Cersei murmured softly, a light blush on her cheeks though she didn't look at him.
The open admission surprised him slightly, and Rhaegar chuckled into her hair. "Excited about the wedding? What is there to be excited about? Another feast, hours of entertaining boring Lords and Ladies?"
"No," she shook her head. "I'll finally be yours. Don't tell me you've not grown impatient as well."
"Ah, well I have for some things…" his voice dropped to a slight purr, and she recognized the playful, pranking tone of the Prince who had dragged her into a foolishly improper dance at their first real meeting. "Though there is still much time between us and that."
"Much time, and much pomp and circumstance." She hummed, although the blush in her cheeks had flamed higher, "Bedding ceremonies too."
Rhaegar didn't miss the way her voice darkened slightly at the mention of that particular element of the wedding, and he sighed. "We'll see. I am the King, maybe I desire to be the only one to undress my Queen." He saw the way that made her smile, but in the dark he missed the guilt that clouded her eyes for a moment, the fear that he would discover her experience. Of course, she remembered Lyanna's words, and she had ensured that she could fake all aspects of maidenhood, especially since Jaime had been gone for so many months. Still, she didn't want to betray Rhaegar, even by omission. But it was too late, and she wouldn't take back those hours with Jaime. He was her twin, her other half, they belonged together… at least, before she was Queen.
"I would appreciate that, my Lord…" She murmured, her worries making her voice sound more fearful. She didn't mind, it was effective for persuading him against this. Cersei was a lioness, she wouldn't cringe, but the thought of all those eyes on her flesh was off putting to say the least, and the last thing she wanted was hands that weren't Rhaegar's (or Jaime's) touching her.
Hearing that fear made Rhaegar frown, and he pressed a tender kiss to her hair. "Then you shall have it. I promise you, once you're my Queen you will have anything you could ever ask for." She smiled softly and wished to kiss him, kiss him for giving her everything she had ever wanted, and could ever want. But that would have to wait for tomorrow.
"Thank you, my King," she whispered instead, and offered him one of her soft, adoring smiles. At first she had kept those to a minimum, wanting to seem more sophisticated, but she wasn't putting on a face anymore.
Her soft, sultry smiles had been growing on him, but sometimes it was nice, if jarring, to be reminded of her innocence. Cersei was only 16 though she seemed much older, and Rhaegar often forgot that she could still be the young girl he once saw around court. But occasionally it was nice to see, and especially on such a night as this. It only reinforced his desire to protect her, even from something as simple as an old custom. And besides, having waited so long to see the flesh that lay beneath her intricate gowns and corsets, the baser side of him didn't want other Lords to see her before he did. His Queen. His Cersei.
"You should sleep," he hummed after an extended silence. "We'll both need our rest for tomorrow." He knew she was as eager as he, even if a maiden. It was obvious to see he… affected her when he spoke a certain way, or caressed her hand and waist as he was now. "I'll walk you to your chambers, my Lady of Lannister."
"Targaryen tomorrow," Cersei hummed, her soft smile turning cheeky as she leaned into him. "I'll be trading one crimson cloak for another." She couldn't hide the excitement at his touch and the prospect from her voice, but she did mask the yawn as they walked.
He hummed, glancing over at her and kissing her hair as he so often did lately. "Hmm. Yes, you'll be the Dragon's Queen. But you'll still be a Lioness. I don't think I would ever try to take that from you, how fierce you can be."
The King remembered well Cersei's anger at the destruction of the ships at Lannisport, out matching her father's significantly. It had been unequalled until he had opted to lead an attack, and a raven had come saying he was injured mildly. The raven the soon-to-be-Queen sent back had given the maester a good fright, and Rhaegar a much needed laugh. Cersei was so fierce, sometimes. His Visenya, his warrior queen. He had often entertained the idea of giving her a sword again and teaching her to fight, just for laughs, and because he knew her father would never approve. A more sentimental part of him knew it would please his Queen just as much as any golden treasure would. And Rhaegar adored the softer, rarer side of her as much if not more than her ferocity. Sometimes he felt it could slip away if he didn't cultivate it, for she often seemed to find fault in things, a reason to struggle, to wall herself off when all he wanted was to see that little glimmer of vulnerability. Of his vows the coming day, among those spoken were many he promised silently. That he would never hurt her as Aerys had his Queen. That he would give her everything in his power to give her and more. That he would treasure her. And that he would strive to show her the love that made that softer part of her stronger.
Of course, his feelings were not purely sentimental, and he wasn't entirely the white knight of the songs. In his mind was always the prophecy, the need for three heads of the dragon. He wanted to right the wrongs of his father, and for that he needed children. But Cersei was young, and healthy, and of strong blood. She was not sickly as Elia recently had become, nor as fertile as Catelyn Tully, but he didn't doubt that she could prove to be. It was a complicated act, on his part, for he had come to love and care for her, and did not wish to treat her or think of her as a broodmare. But at the same time, he needed to get children on her, for his own selfish ends.
Their arrival at her door pulled the King out of his thoughts, and he smiled softly at the woman by his side. "And here is where I leave you, m'lady," he smirked, kissing her hand. "Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow we will see your new chambers, hmm?'
He watched Cersei push back a strand of her golden hair and smile softly at him, the same mirth reflected back in her emerald eyes. "Yes, I suppose we shall won't we? And you, my King, need to sleep as well." she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Get some rest, Rhaegar." Though a full six years younger than him, he forgot their difference entirely in moments like this and smiled, laughing for a moment.
"Yes, I confess I am tired as well. Though I have less preparations in the morrow than you do, my dear." He winked, "I will see you in the Sept."
She nodded, giving his hand a final squeeze before slipping into her rooms and letting the handmaidens remove her dress, the soft thuds of Rhaegar's step echoing as he walked down the great hall to his own chambers.
Despite Cersei's soft order the night before, Rhaegar hardly slept a wink in the night. Each time he went to close his eyes he saw his father's face. He had to keep reminding himself he wasn't Aerys, that he wouldn't be. But his father had been a good man in the beginning, a good king and a good husband, as Lord Husbands went, anyway. That was how Targaryens were though, wasn't it? They all went mad… He was determined to end that, taking a bride well outside the bloodline, but he couldn't shake the fear that he would become his father. The previous King's ghost swam to his vision and laughed, and burnt, and cursed him for what he had done. The tears of Lys would have been enough to make it look as though his father passed of old age, but Rhaegar knew better. And even if Aerys died with Jaime Lannister's sword in his back, the Prince had approved it.
When the King finally did manage to sleep, his dreams soured and he would startle awake with screams echoing in his ears. First his mother's, and then those he imagined would be Cersei's, if he ever did become like his father. He hated that he could picture his lioness bruised and battered, simpering like his mother had toward the end. That wouldn't be him. If anything, he would bring her brother back to the keep, to protect his Queen. As dishonourable as the kingslayer had proved to be, Rhaegar knew they feared the same things. Jaime had looked in Rhaella's eyes and seen Cersei reflected back at him.
Once he did get up, the King found himself swept up into the wedding preparations, entertaining and directing and only catching scant glimpses of his bride. Maybe it was for the better, with the current state of his nerves. Cersei would pick up on it right away, and he liked to think he had come to know her well enough to know she would find a way to find the fault in herself.
The last thing he wanted today was an embittered Cersei Lannister.
In the whirl of the day Rhaegar couldn't help but laugh at the sheer amount of silver, gold, and above all crimson strewn about the Red Keep. He had said to spare no expense (debt would be owed to the Lannister's after all, and he was marrying a Lannister), and obviously whoever had been in charge of decorating had taken that notion to heart. Every table for the feast was swathed in deep red, and there were more house sigils then he had ever seen clustered about the place. Not to mention that the smallfolk had taken to calling theirs the joining of silver and gold, a theme certainly carried over in the decor. However, the massive tapestry of a dragon coiled around a lioness was certainly his favourite, and he had already resolved to keep it hung in its place, and to move the smaller duplicate to the new Queen's chambers. That's what he wanted to be, the one who protected his queen and the realm. A boyish fantasy, to some extent, but not an implausible one.
Once things settled, slightly, he made his way to the Sept, regarding the amassed crowd inside with a small, quiet smile. Grinning wasn't Kingly, and he wouldn't grin at the entire city's population and more gathered to watch his marriage. They spilled over into the surrounding area and he found it all rather uncomfortable and ridiculous. He was the King, and a man of 22, he shouldn't be so nervous to be in front of them like this.
He chose to go in a litter to the Sept of Baelor, he and Cersei would ride back later on matching horses. He thought that Cersei would like that more than in a carriage like was more customary. He had had a white horse identical to his own brought for his bride, and he intended to surprise her. Already the streets were filling with onlookers and it was almost impossible to move through the square while a line of gold cloaks kept the crowd at bay. The crowd would only increase as the hours went on.
When he reached the great Sept he entered by the main entrance and blushed as a great cheer went up for the King. He knew that somewhere within the towers of the Sept Cersei was prepared so that when she was revealed to the public in her gown, he would be with her. Really, he wished he could already see her, and know what splendor she had wrapped herself in.
Within the first set of doors stood two members of the Kingsguard. Rhaegar acknowledged them as he stood waiting for the doors to swing open. His feet tapped against the stones, the fresh leather boots on his feet still slightly uncomfortable, but the fidgeting was more do to his nerves than anything. Ser Barristan appeared at his side and handed him the cloak of black and red that he would use to claim Cersei as his own. He examined the delicate embroidery of his great sigil. He couldn't wait to see Cersei draped in his color, as fearful as he had been of his father's legacy, there was something inexplicably right in her becoming his. And him becoming hers.
When the inner doors opened he made his way down the center aisle to stand between the altars of the Mother and Father. He bowed low to the High Septon and turned to watch the doors through which he had just entered. A hushed silence had fallen over the group as they waited to see the future queen. After a minute the doors swung open and there stood Cersei.
Of course, he'd expected her to wear red. In fact, the only time he hadn't seen Cersei in red was when she'd worn a blue dress he liked and had made for her, after the end of the rebellion. He still liked the red dresses better. Of all of them though, this was something else entirely.
He couldn't take his eyes off her, the crimson fabric matching the Lannister cloak draped over her shoulders, the gold of the embroidery matching her hair, pulled back halfway and in a complex twist on the top of her head, exposing her elegant neck and the slightest hint of cleavage formed by the corset's bodice. He'd seen her in one of two dresses that accentuated her figure, and yet somehow she looked completely different. In a odd way he admired the way the embroidered silks (lions and dragons, upon closer inspection) flowed around her as she walked toward him, pooling behind her in a blood-like train. Perfectly befitting his warrior queen, his Visenya.
The rest of the ceremony Rhaegar spent in a haze, his eyes never leaving Cersei's as the high Septon droned on. His own vows echo in his head over the more traditional ones, and he keeps her hand in his devotedly. To many of the lords in the inner chamber of the sept it may seem odd that he and Cersei seemed so comfortable with each other. Many of them had never found comfort with their spouses, but Rhaegar couldn't be happier with his bride. He didn't envy those like Ned Stark, who had married his brother's bride scant weeks after Brandon's demise. They were still awkward with each other, even with a child soon between them. But he and Cersei were lucky enough to have already gotten the chance to get acquainted in all the ways but one. And soon enough, they would know each other every way a husband and wife should.
For all the ceremony and the crowd amassed, the wedding itself felt intimate somehow. The final words were spoken and he smiled, brighter than many in attendance had ever seen him smile before. Softly he brushed his hands over the crimson and gold shrouding Cersei's slim shoulders. Given that she was taller than many of the other ladies he didn't have to bend too much to pull the Lannister cloak off of her and hand it to Ser Barristan at his side.
The Sept was silent as the King lifted the black and red cloak and swung it with a flourish to drape over her shoulders. The rich fabric fell over her hair, and that bothered him, so Rhaegar gently leaned closer to her and eased the curtain of silken curls from underneath the fabric, so they offset the Targaryen colors with a bit of Lannister gold. He was aware of the eyes on them as he fastened her new cloak, his face a breath from hers.
Traditionally, it would be Rhaegar's responsibility to lean in and place an appropriately chaste kiss on Cersei's painted lips. But the new Queen had other plans, and before he could properly process it, Rhaegar felt her small hands pulling him to her, and her warm lips on his own. It was not an entirely unwelcome surprise, and he responded eagerly. Their kiss was not especially chaste. At first he let her control it, mildly surprised by the assurance conveyed in her movements and the hand she slid into his silver hair. But after a moment he collected himself enough to press more ardently against her, his lips and tongue and teeth playing with her own. They were lost in each other, until he felt a tap on his shoulder and came back to his sense, pulling away from her. Only then did the noise that had sprung up in the Sept be heard, and a whooping cheer from Lord Baratheon. Rhaegar was glad he was too immersed in his bride to attune to the words. Cersei seemed equally pleased, and her hand had at some point slipped into his, holding it rather firmly.
"Shall we make our escape?" He whispered into her ear, not waiting for her reply as the Septon announced her as the new Queen. Rhaegar gave her a moment, noticing the pure delight seeping even deeper into her eyes, before he gestured to the door. "I have a surprise for you, my Queen…"
Cersei managed to look at him just at the right moment, for she missed the thundering of the horses hooves and the entrance of the two white horses, one with a silver saddle and the other gold, into the Sept. He grinned; kissing her again softly (the Lords and Ladies were distracted now. And soon he could and would kiss her all he liked) and spinning her around. "I figured a litter was too plain for my lioness. Can you guess which is yours?"
"It's hardly a guess," Cersei murmured, leading them to the horses. Her fingers brushed over the gilding on the golden saddle. She smiled softly at the symbol, the dragon curled around the lion. It was mirrored on Rhaegar's white gold saddle, and she turned to him. "These must have taken ages to do."
"Months, my love." He hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist as they stood between the two beasts. "But I had the time, and I figured you would appreciate a unique exit. And we should exit before the crowd grows too anxious…" He kissed her neck just above his family's cloak. "May I help you up?"
She nodded, a bright smile on her lips. "I do appreciate it." She stepped closer to her horse, the larger of the two she noted with a small upward quirk of her lips, a disguised smirk. Rhaegar's hands moved to her waist, and she let him lift her, and then use his hands as a brace for her to get settled. As much as she would have wished it, the dress didn't permit her to sit like a man, so she sat proper as she watched him swing up gracefully. The Targaryen colors fanned out over the back of her horse, and they both looked quite regal. The red of her gown and his jerkin matched, and contrasted beautifully with the white of their horses. She admired her new husband's aesthetic taste even more.
"You look far too pleased with yourself," Rhaegar hummed, smirking over at her. "Or is it with me?"
"Guess, my King…"
"Me of course." He grinned, though the teasing glint in his eyes told her it was far more than his arrogance. If anything, the King was far less arrogant than most of his vassal Lords. At first she'd been amused, and then briefly disconcerted, but once she realized he projected the image, and got to know the real Rhaegar, she fell for him like the songs.
Their exit, and the roar that greeted them cut off her clever reply. She had never seen the city so alive with people, the street around the Sept nearly impassable, save the gold cloaks forcibly parting the crowds to clear a path for their horses. The people still crowded around them and a few reached to touch the skirt of her dress. Her father would have been utterly disappointed, but Cersei loved the adoration and her smile was a radiant as her gilded saddle. Rhaegar divided his attentions between their path and her, but when it widened out enough in the square, the King rode up beside his queen, their horses falling into step as they wove through the crowd. Cersei had never felt this level of adoration, and she smiled brightly at her new husband. All along the remainder of the ride between the sept and the castles seaside gardens, hands reached for their horses and their hands, caressed the gilded embroidery of the Targaryen cape. She saw Rhaegar chuckle.
It was almost a disappointment when they arrived at the garden, gorgeous and crimson as they were. She'd never seen so much red in her entire life, even between growing up in the Red Keep and Casterly Rock. She knew, of course, that the fact that black was missing from the decor was significant, that Rhaegar wanted the kingdoms to know that this was their wedding. The banners that hung about the grounds weren't his house banners, but those he had had made to represent the joining of their two houses, the Dragon and his Lioness. She smiled, lost in a bit of a daze until she felt Rhaegar's hands guide her off the horse and onto the ground, lifting her easily about her waist.
"You'll have plenty of time to ogle the gardens in a moment, my Queen," He teased her, always teasing her, and brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "Though now we have a reprieve from being mobbed with our guests, and I'd rather like to kiss my bride. Properly this time."
Of course he didn't mean properly. Their kiss in the Sept had been barely proper, and the kiss he placed on her now was no such thing. Not that Cersei minded. Her hand clutched in his doublet as he cupped her jaw, sending shivers down her spine and pulling her closer. A soft sort of whimper left her throat as she melted against his lips, only to be answered by a cough from behind her.
"My Lord," A polite voice murmured, stepping just into the periphery of Cersei's view. "I think it would be best you and the Queen took your places now, before the guests start arriving. I would hate for you to be caught in a position such as this by someone less discrete." Varys had that slim smirk on his face that had made him the most terrifying person in the Keep, at least in Cersei's childhood memory. It was still rather terrifying now, but she was the Queen now, she didn't need to concern herself with his gossip (her father would say otherwise, but how could kissing her husband after her wedding be anything to be worried about?).
Rhaegar must have felt similarly, for he moved his arm to wrap around Cersei's waist and chuckled. "And what position would that be?" She watched his violet eyes twinkled with mirth as he pinched her waist, leading her up the dais to their lofted table. "Is it so wrong for a man to kiss his wife?"
Cersei blushed, though her gaze stayed on Varys, defiant. She was still a lioness, and proud to be standing beside the King, as the Queen. Nor would she be the simpering submissive wife beside him. Instead, in a moment of bravery she leaned out of her seat and kissed Rhaegar once more, just as deeply. "It's not wrong for a wife to kiss her husband either is it?" She murmured with a smirk, brushing her thumb over his lip and sitting up, just in time to avoid being seen by her father as he joined them at the table.
"Lord Tywin," The king nodded, smiling at his good father as the high tables filled in. Or Cersei's side anyway. There weren't enough Targaryen's left to fill any tables, the only family he had not present at the feast. It wasn't a place for children as young as Viserys and Daenarys. Particularly the later, who was only a few months old. Motherless now, though Rhaegar hoped Cersei could fill in in some way for the girl's mother. She hadn't had a mother past her Seventh nameday, certainly she knew how it felt to yearn for family.
But that was a discussion for another time.
"Darling?" He heard Cersei's crisp voice murmur to his right, and he offered her a slight smile. "There you are. You were staring at your wine…"
"Just thinking." He promised, giving her hand a squeeze beneath the table.
Her answering gentle smile was one he rarely saw, a sort of bemused quirk of her lips. He preferred her smirks, admittedly. "About, my King?"
"You of course," You, and my sister, and the family line, as always, he thought, but the placid smile stayed in place, only the glimmer of his eyes dimmed. It was unfair, wasn't it? To marry her and crown her without telling her what he needed from her. But he'd come to love her, all of her, and he needed her. He only feared he'd put her in a cage without her knowledge, and that he'd change, and she's still be there, unable to leave him. He watched her smile morph into a pleased smirk, pushing the worry aside.
Lords and Ladies come up to congratulate them, and after a while the faces blur. Cersei realized that Rhaegar was right, she had plenty of time to study the decor as yet another pitiful minstrel sang for them, the same sort of tawdry romantic tune. Her king saw her saw and clapped, cutting off the bard and gesturing him closer so he could pay him. "Are you bored?" He whispered, as if it was the most indelicate thing.
"Even you must grow tired of that," She huffed, earning a warning look from her father at her petulance. "Plus I'm a bit starved," she added, hoping to excuse her complaints.
"You? Hungry? You rarely eat anything at our suppers, Cersei," Rhaegar grinned, and she just rolled her eyes, "Oh you are hungry. Well, we can't have that." In a very unkingly move, he stood up and walked to the end of the table, grabbing the bread that had been sitting in front of her brother and placing it in front of her. Needless to say, the servants scrambled back to get their food.
For a moment Cersei just stared at him, and then she laughed softly, shaking her head. "Was that really necessary?" She murmured, knowing a good number of their guests had chuckled at her husband's display, "It would have been far easier to ask a servant…"
"But far less fun," He winked at her, and she thought she might have to kiss him again right there. "Besides, Cersei, we're the King and Queen, no one is going to get us in trouble."
Both their eyes flicked to Tywin for a moment, and they chuckled softly. "Well, at least he can't send you home." Rhaegar hummed, taking the basket of bread and breaking a piece off for her, adding a healthy amount of the grapefruit spread he'd discovered she enjoyed to the slice before feeding it to her.
From the second table Lyanna Baratheon chuckled, nudging her husband. For once he wasn't too terribly drunk, and behaving like the adorable sod she had fallen for as a girl. "Look at them. How soon do you expect he'll get a child on her?"
Robert glanced at the King, still feeding his smirking Queen bits of sweetened bread. Instead of replying he stared for a moment and let out a booming laugh. "This isn't Dorne, my Lord, though you do have good taste." He raised his glass in a mock toast.
Lyanna's smile fell as the surrounding Lords and Ladies laughed, including Rhaegar and Cersei, if you could call her polite chuckle a laugh. She got up after a moment and walked up to the high table, carrying her gift for the Queen. "Well, I apologize, My King, but I assumed you'd be so inundated with gifts I only brought one for your bride," she smiled brightly at Cersei, the two of them having become close friends in the past year since Harrenhall. "And I'm sure Robert meant no offense by his comment… it appears he's already gotten well into his cups."
Cersei laughed, a real one this time, Lyanna happened to know. "Any other day I would have been offended, Lady Lyanna… though today we can let it pass," she smiled briefly at the king.
"I suppose I should be grateful for that," she chuckled, handing Cersei the brightly wrapped package. "I wouldn't open that here…"
The Queen's brows rose almost comically, her naivety showing crystal clear. Though Lyanna knew Cersei was not a maid, she had had the pleasure of enlightening her on quite a few things in their conversations, and they had often made a joke of it. "Ah… I see. Thank you?"
Both Rhaegar and Lyanna laughed, earning them one of Cersei's customary petulant scowls. "Both of you, really?" She huffed, hiding a pout.
"You'll like it. Both of you will." Lyanna grinned, taking the Queen's hand for a moment, "I'm not trying to embarrass you. My husband accomplished that for the both of us."
"I noticed," Cersei smiled, setting the gift next to her chair. "Thank you, anyway."
Lyanna nodded, giving her closest friend's hand a squeeze before she returned back to her table, leaving the King and Queen to the numerous other gifts and guests.
After a while the gifts wore on, and even Rhaegar was growing tired, and hungry for the feast that was to come (Cersei had eaten all the bread but the single piece she fed to him, despite how tight he knew her dress was). He did his best to smile genuinely at each Lord and Lady, and thank them for each token or parcel they received. It wasn't until Jon Connington stood in front of him, with a long, silk wrapped package, that both he and Cersei's attention was refocused. The man had always displayed an admiration for the King, an obsession that Cersei had half a mind to be threatened about in fact, but their interest wasn't on the man himself, but rather the object in his hands.
"My silver prince," Jon murmured, "And our new Queen, Cersei," he bowed, but Cersei's jaw worked at the disdain for her in his in his voice. "I think it fitting for you to have a true King's sword, My Lord."
Rhaegar stood, hurriedly but not impolitely so, and dropped his wife's hand to pick up the wrapped object. His slim fingers hurried over the silk and pulled it back, and a grin lit up his face. "Valyrian… Where on earth did you find a Valyrian steel sword?" He held it up, his queen ducking slightly to avoid his arm.
"I had this one fresh forged, my King. A new sword for a new era."
Rhaegar was silent a moment, torn between awe at the weapon and the weight of his father's rule behind him. "Thank you, Lord Connington. It's quite the weapon. And I do believe it needs a name…?" He glanced not a Jon but at Cersei, showing her the blade.
He knew that she felt threatened by a gift like the sword, and that underneath the strong exterior she presented, his new Queen was still sometimes fragile girl of but 16 years. He didn't want her to think that she was less important to him than a sword, no matter how magnificent the weapon.
Evidently the crowd didn't interpret or see his gesture, as shouts came up from all ends of the courtyard. Some were good suggestions, he was partial to those of Silverfyre and Skysfall, though he waited, watching his queens brows dip in concentration. Valyrian swords were objects of a family line, to be passed down for centuries, though many had been lost. And though the sword would continue down the Targaryen line, he and Cersei were the one's to further it, of course he wanted her input.
"Eastern Sun," She murmured after a moment, smiling softly up at him. They were both intelligent enough that she didn't need to explain the fairly straightforward name. Targaryens of the east, Lannisters of the sunny west. He also knew that Cersei was often referred to as the Light of the West, and smiled softly.
"Eastern Sun." He echoed, only louder, so their guests would hear. He held the sword out a moment longer before returning it to it's sheath and taking his seat once more. He brought Cersei's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. "I've taken the light right out of the west," he teased softly, smiling over at her, "They'll need a new sun."
The rest of the gifts flew by, and by the time the feast was laid, all the guests were too starved to wait long. Evidently the King was much beloved by his people, though there were a surprising number of gifts for his Queen. Rhaegar smiled as they stood, stepping to the center of the dais before lifting Eastern Sun, and cleanly cleaving the top off the pigeon pie. The doves flew out to the cheers of the crowd, and soon enough he was happy to have a bite of that pie in his mouth. And then several more.
The King and Queen kept to themselves after that, huddled in behind the high table. At least this time their feeding of each other was expected, and escaped Robert's gaze.
As the sun set over the gardens, the Lords and Ladies began to grow restless, and the celebrations moved into the Keep, the hall decked out richly in the same colors as the gardens. There was dancing and drinking (though both Rhaegar and Cersei were kept from too much wine by her father. Wedding night or not, a certain level of decorum was expected.), and after another few hours of revelry, calls for the bedding.
Cersei bristled; hiding it behind a contrived bashful smile, hoping Rhaegar would keep his promise from the night before. The last thing she wanted was to be manhandled by Lyanna's brute of a husband or groped by men older than her father.
But thankfully, Rhaegar just chuckled. "I've deciding against a Bedding Ceremony, my lords. She is my Queen, after all, and as I've waited over a year to wed her, I'll not wait a moment longer to bed her."
That got him a look from Tywin, but Cersei was too busy chuckling as he scooped her into his arms, kissing her brow as he walked from the hall, ignoring the jovial protests of their guests. "Thank you," she laughed quietly, surprised he kept carrying her, through the keep.
"I promised, didn't I?" Rhaegar hummed, slightly more serious than he had been before.
She nodded, not sure how to interpret his demeanor now that the face he put on for the festivities was off. "Yes, you did. And I am grateful…" she reached up and cupped his cheek, her fingers brushing his ear. "My King."
"My Queen," He smiled down at her, his violet eyes pensive as they so often were, boring into her. They didn't speak further on the way to her new chambers (theirs, she hoped), and a small thrill went through her as he laid her on the bed.
Cersei stared up at him as he undressed her slowly, undoing the laces of her corset first, his nimble fingers loosening the ties between her breasts easily. He didn't touch her, yet, he didn't do more than pull the corset gently from her and then begin to peel away the layers of her gown, as if he was unwrapping a gift. She was afraid to speak, with him staring at her like that.
He wasn't Jaime. Nor was he the beast Lyanna had warned her about. Rhaegar was somehow more pensive in the bedchamber than ever, considering her like a piece of art. Her hands went up to carefully undo his doublet, and though she'd undress a man before, her hesitance wasn't feigned. Her slim fingers shook and he stilled her hand, the Queen only in her slip with the King staring down at her.
"Cersei?" He caressed her fingers, "There's nothing to be nervous about…" His voice was soft, softer than she'd been taught to expect, and he knelt in front of her, tilting her jaw tenderly so he could kiss her again.
Her lips moved against his easily, and she continued to undress him, her hands finally resting on the bare skin of his chest when she pulled back for air. "I'm not nervous," she murmured, a semblance of her traditional pride in her voice, "I trust you. I love you."
She did too. Over a year was time enough for her to be sure of that, and for her to invest a part of herself in him she'd never thought she'd give to anyone, even when she'd been promised the Prince.
His touch was still soft as he guided her back onto the bed, and softer still as he slid his hands up her sides, removing her small clothes while he kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His hands ran over her bare chest and she gasped, blinking her eyes open without realizing she had shut them. Rhaegar wasn't Jaime, he knew how to touch her in ways her brother still fumbled with, his hands were rougher, but more skilled.
He kissed her again and she forgot about Jaime, immersed in her royal husband's touch.
Cersei had been prepared to fake maidenhood, terrified that he would catch her in her lie, but with the way he was kissing her and caressing her, there was no way she could pretend to find any of this uncomfortable. Besides, she hadn't had her brother in a year, and being with the King, her King, was intimidating enough for her to easily seem naive and inexperienced. Rhaegar's lips left her own and traveled down her neck, making her mewl softly and shiver despite the heat of the room and the summer night. "It's alright," he whispered into the valley between her breasts, making her arch beneath him in delight. His hands ran over her chest, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and he kissed down to her navel with a soft hum. "I won't hurt you."
She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she trusted him, but she didn't know how to say it without sounding suspicious. Instead she nodded, her eyes barely open, just enough to watch his silver head move lower.
He kissed each of her hipbones, and then the flat of her stomach between them, before pulling up and kissing her lips again. "Cersei…" He breathed against her lips, and the sound of her name in that velvet voice made her moan softly, finally moving. Her hands tangled in his hair, pressing him to her and parting her lips, inviting him to kiss her deeper, to taste her mouth again. She wanted him, she needed him, and she could feel the press of him against her thigh that meant he needed her just as much.
"Yes…" she whispered, pulling back and panting from the kiss. "Yes… yes… please Rhaegar." It was almost a whimpered plea, and evidently all the assurance the King needed.
Lyanna had told her more than her Septas had and more than she'd learned from being with Jaime about how men bed their wives. Of course, Robert was one example of a husband, but the stories Lyanna had told her had often soured her hopes for her own wedding night. Falsely, as she was now learning.
Rhaegar smiled softly at her words, kissing her again and cupping her cheek as he hovered over her, making her look at him. Cersei was used to be in charge, but this was blissful somehow, and she only closed his eyes at the first press of him into her. Part acting part honest adjustment, she winced slightly and let out a slow breath, surprised when he stilled and waited for her to nod and pull his head down for another kiss.
He didn't bed her quickly, and he never stopped being gentle with her. Every touch was more about her than about him, his eyes never leaving hers until she arched under him and tilted her head back so he could nip at her neck. it was perhaps over the top, how much he wanted her to enjoy this. But he'd grown up in his father's shadow and was hell-bent to be the opposite of everything he was. That included how he treated his wife. Cersei would be his Queen as well as the realms, and he wanted her to feel that way. Even as he neared his edge he held off, watching her, wanting her to feel as good as he felt. Kissing her deeply again, he ran his hand to where they were joined and teased her, moaning as she bucked into his hand and broke the kissed to gasp.
"Cersei…" He groaned, feeling her tongue trace his teeth experimentally and her body clamp down around him more."Cersei…" He rolled his hips faster; close to his release and hoping she was nearing hers.
His patience was rewarded a moment later when his bride suddenly went rigid below him and let out a high cry, her nails digging into his back and her hips bucking wildly. He'd been with enough women before to know she had reached her pleasure, and with a few deep thrusts he buried his face in her neck and his release deep within her.
The King didn't move for several minutes, panting into her neck and feeling her hips roll softly against his as she hummed, her eyes closed and her hands caressing his back. His weight had to be crushing her slim frame though, and reluctantly he rolled them onto their sides, pulling the Queen to his chest. There was silence in the bedchamber for a while, the distant sounds of the end of the revelry in the grounds and the great hall coming in through the open window. Finally, Rhaegar spoke.
"Cersei? I need to tell you something. And I need to ask you something."
His voice was soft but her heart practically seized in her chest, and her emerald eyes snapped open. "What is it? Rhaegar?" She whispered after reigning in her worries.
He swallowed. "You know… of my father's cruelties. I promise I will never be cruel to you like that, in bed or otherwise. I am not my father. But I do...I need something of you."
"Anything," she promised and he wanted to tell her never to promise him that. "Anything, my lord."
"What do you know of prophecy?" He asked softly, his hand resting on the small of her back, thumbing over the pale gold of her skin.
There was a brief flash of confusion across his bride's brow, and her expression tightened into a thin line. "What do you mean, Rhaegar?"
He sighed, looking to the wall behind her with a resigned expression. "There is a prophecy, about my family. 'The Prince that was Promised' it's called. The savior that will come." After a moment his eyes drifted to her emerald ones. "The Dragon must have three heads, Cersei, three heads born of the blood of the Dragon."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, Cersei…" The King swallowed, 'The Targaryen line has weakened over the centuries. The practice of marrying brother to sister has created far too much madness in the family. My father…" he sighed and shook his head. "But you're not of the blood. Not to offend you my Queen. I need you, to be my Visenya, my warrior Queen, and to give the dragon it's three heads, of purer blood, untainted blood."
He watched Cersei's jaw work, and her eyes darken in the dim light. "You mean three children. Just say what you mean, my lord. I know my place, as your wife. And I fully intend to fulfill my duties and bare your children, please do not assume me so naive as to forget the principal duty of a Queen. Three is hardly too much to ask… though I'm still unsure of what exactly you're asking me."
"I'm not asking anything more than that.I just mean to tell you that despite my motive for marrying you, despite my need for a wife as strong as the Lioness of House Lannister, I desire to be a good husband to you. You will make a fine Queen, Cersei, and a fine wife. I hope to be as good a King and husband to you."
"But?" Her voice was a fearful murmur, and he knew then that she didn't expect to receive such kindness from him so soon, or at least now that he had her and was no longer courting her.
He shook his head and cupped her cheeks carefully. "My lady. Have I ever given you reason to doubt my affections for you? I joke, yes, and I delight in teasing you, but I hope I have never shown cause for you to fear me, or expect me to hurt you."
Cersei swallowed, looking away for him like a shy child, an expression he'd never seen before on her. "No. No of course not, my lord." The title was starting to grate on his nerves. "You've been nothing but kind to me in the last year, and since we first met I have enjoyed every moment with you. However… I've heard how men change with their wives, and I admit I was surprised by your… kindness tonight."
"You shouldn't be surprised." Rhaegar sighed. "I promise you I will always be kind to you, and respect you. You need not fear me, and you needn't call me My lord. Especially not here."
Cersei nodded, a small smile forming on her lips as she kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rhaegar… But, you said you had something to ask me?"
There was an awkward moment of silence between them, both looking at the other and then looking away. Rhaegar kept his hand at her back so she couldn't move away from him, fearful of what her response would be to his question. Many would be offended… and he wasn't sure what he hoped her reaction would be. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know. "Were you truly a maid, before tonight?"
Cersei gaped at him. She looked the worst possible mixture between aghast, hurt, and guilty. He sighed. "It won't change anything. I meant every word I spoke to you, I just hope that you enjoyed this night as much as whoever you had before. I won't ask who."
She blinked for a moment and closed her mouth. The awkward silence stretched out for another few minutes until she spoke. "More. I enjoyed it more. I… I apologize My lor- Rhaegar, for…" she stumbled over her words for once, "I… I don't know how to explain… but… oh by seven." she huffed, covering her face with her hands and pressing her fingers to her eyes, stalling the tears that threatened to spill.
"Cersei…" he took her hands in his and guided them back. "Look at me. You don't need to explain. I only hope that whoever he was, he treated you with the care you deserve. And if someone hurt you-"
"It wasn't that. No. None hurt me."
He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply again. "Thank the Seven. That's all I wanted to know. You may sleep now."
"Will you stay with me?" She smiled at him and he chuckled, nodding.
"Of course. Go to sleep, my Queen."