CHAPTER ONE:
A Golden Age
Sometimes Rosella wished she'd have been born a man.
Her father had complimented her intelligence a thousand times over, spitting out phrases that – if uttered anywhere other than the Rock– could have been seen as treasonous.
"You are the only child worth bearing the Lannister name," Lord Tymond had uttered in his solar once while Rosella was helping count inventory, "If your brothers possessed half your intelligence we would be the ones on the throne, instead we're relegated to half-wits who shit gold."
He'd continue his muttering until Uncle Loren and Uncle Darian came into the room, discussing trade deals with the Riverlands and marriage offers for all three of his children.
Father would let her sit in and listen, giving her a stern stare if her attention wandered anywhere other than the books.
He would then drag Jason and Tyland in not long after, quizzing them on all matters he'd previously discussed with their Uncles, letting out a disappointed sigh whenever one of them answered wrong.
He was especially harsh when it was Jason, and it often was.
"Ro, can you tell us what the answer is?"
She would chime in from her position in the books, and bask in the smile her father gave her, as if she were the true heir to the Rock instead of her brothers.
If she were a son, she probably would be.
If she were a son, she could carry on the Lannister name like her father had wished her. She would be built to wield the sword Tyland had put in her hand instead of working around her ever-growing curves.
Jason would scoff and turn his nose up at her.
"Ladies don't play with swords." He'd say, and Rosella would simply stick her tongue out at him before whacking him with the wooden stick.
Besides, Jason was the only one who refused to give into her wishes.
Her mother, while exasperated at her daughter's roguish and wild antics as a child, would simply smooth her hair down and suggest horseback riding as a kinder alternative before having the servants draw her a bath.
And Tyland loved her more than he showed.
They were the smart ones, the ones compensating for a lack of strength and station.
Some at the Rock often said Rosella was his true twin, casting doubt on Jason once more.
She didn't have to wonder whose idea it was to send her East.
Her father calls her in his solar with a sour expression, open letter in hand while Jason and Tyland sit in chairs near the doors.
"Do you know what this is, Ro?"
The red and black seal is enough to confirm her fears. "It's a request from the King and Queen."
His smile is back.
"That's right. Their own daughter has just celebrated her ninth name day, much like yourself," Tymond continues, green eyes twinkling as he settles down behind his desk, "Do you know her name?"
What kind of silly question is that? She thinks to herself.
"Of course," She scoffs, almost missing the look her father shoots Jason, "Princess Rhaenyra is well-known throughout the seven kingdoms."
Tymond never takes his eyes off his heir, "Yes, she is. A letter like this was sent to all the Great Houses of the Kingdom." He leans forward and matching emerald hues meet, "Now why would the King and Queen do such a thing?"
Rosella bit down on her lip in thought, a bad habit her mother had been trying for ages to break. Her foot jiggled underneath her golden skirts, and when the thought finally came to her, she thought she could see Jason roll his eyes.
"Well, Princess Rhaenyra is their only child so far," Rosella spoke carefully, focusing on choosing the right words, "And um…"
"Come on…" Father spoke with urgency.
Rosella inhaled sharply, "She has no brother or sister, and so they are probably asking for companions or ladies." She said, recalling her mother and Aunt Joselyn's numerous conversations about possible companions for Rosella.
She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the memory of them deciding upon Johanna Westerling as one of them.
"That's right," Father smiled once more, standing up with pride, "And you know the reason why they ask for such a thing?"
"To forge alliances," Rosella answered immediately, remembering the thousands of conversations in the solar regarding possible marriages for Jason and Tyland.
She tended to tune out the ones about her own marriage one day.
"Exactly," Tymond Lannister turned toward his sons with a disdainful expression, "King Viserys has asked for your sister to accompany the Princess as her companion and future lady," He spoke sternly, Tyland's back straightening, "I'm sure I don't have to impress upon you two what an important honor this is for House Lannister, although some of you," He paused in front of Jason, "Could use the reminder. Seeing as my heir must remain in Casterly Rock to continue his duties," Father sent Jason a pointed look before returning to his desk and shuffling some parchment, "Tyland, you will accompany your sister to King's Landing and ensure her safety. Take only those you require," Father's eyes flicked upward toward the second son, "We don't want to insult the King and Queen now do we?"
"Of course not."
"No, father."
Tymond nodded agreeably, "Good, now hurry, you leave in a fortnight."
That was six years ago, and her father had long since passed.
It has been almost a year to the date and while she'd been given the customary six months to mourn, she was back in the reds and golds that suited their house, crumpling a letter in her hands as she stared up at the visage of the Father above the altar of the Sept.
Rosella wasn't sure what she was praying for.
But right now, the death of her elder brother was at the top of her list.
He must truly be mad if he believed finding her a suitable husband was the most important priority in the wake of their father's death.
Not even Tyland was pressing her on the matter, focusing his efforts on trying to earn a suitable spot on the Small Council.
"Do not tell me you are still moping about?" Rhaenyra's voice cut through her thoughts as the Princess dragged Alicent down the steps into the sept, both girls sharing a sly smirk as they joined Rosella in the aisle.
Rosella pushed herself to her feet and joined her friends, smoothing out the letter with a roll of her eyes, "You will too when your father forces you to choose a husband."
Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose at the thought, "I do not believe I will deal with such a problem."
"Rhaenyra!" Alicent laughed, dark curls bouncing as she shook her head, "You will have to marry someday."
The princess shrugged, "I will simply refuse every proposal that comes my way." She said matter of factly, as if it were a viable option these days.
Rosella wished she could be that certain about her own prospects. Instead the blonde crossed her arms and stared at the Princess, "You truly believe you can get away with that?"
Rhaenyra smiled and linked her arm with Rosella's, "I am the Princess of Westeros, I can do whatever I like."
Rosella resisted the urge to roll her eyes and let Rhaenyra drag her and Alicent out of the sept, the two girls sharing a knowing look as the Targaryen led the way.
Rhaenyra was dressed in her riding habit and she smelled as if she'd just finished a trip on Syrax.
Rosella forced herself to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose. Even after years of being fostered in the capitol, she still wasn't quite used to the rank smells that permeated the city.
Lannisport was much cleaner and riding a horse wasn't quite as rank as riding a dragon in the Lannister's humble opinion.
They ambled down the hallways of the Red Keep, servants smiling and bowing as they passed.
The three girls held their heads high in an air befitting their station, and as they grew closer to their chambers, Alicent thought it was a good idea to continue their conversation from before.
"Your Uncle didn't escape marriage either Rhaenyra," The Hightower girl reminded her, "Even the heir to the throne isn't immune."
"Prince Daemon won't be heir for very long," Rosella chimed in with a smirk, "Not if your father has anything to say about it at least."
Alicent shook her head, "My father is still upset Gwayne wasn't given command of the city watch," she explained, pouting as the three of them moved toward the balcony overlooking the courtyard, "He'll always do what's best for the kingdom, however."
Rhaenyra snorted as she flopped down onto a chaise, "With any luck my mother will finally give birth to a son and this whole battle between my uncle and your father will end," She smiled, stripping her gloves.
"You truly want that?" Rosella asked, curious as to why Rhaenyra would give up any of the privileges she had so far.
She was technically correct earlier.
The Princess of Westeros could refuse any marriage proposal.
So long as she kept her virtue intact.
Or managed to keep her affairs a secret.
More than that, Rhaenyra was next in line to the throne. Rosella always envied the ease in which she was able to get away with things.
She could go dragon riding or train in combat and no one would bat an eye.
Meanwhile Rosella had to be careful of how often she left the city on horseback, and most of her training was relegated to her chambers or at night when nobody else was around.
Tyland stepped in as often as he could to correct her form or ensure she had a balanced sword, but like most of the nobles in King's Landing, appearances were everything.
Especially when the royal family could burn you to a crisp for even thinking about rebelling.
Not that Rhaenyra would, Rosella reasoned.
At least, she didn't believe she would.
"My father has dreamt of a son since he was crowned," Rhaenyra spat out, leaning back with a huff, "It is all he has wanted his entire life. I hope he gets it."
"I wish I could be as carefree as you," Rosella stared down at the crumpled parchment in her fist, "Instead my brother has deemed me a broodmare, asking me to fulfill my duty to House Lannister at the ripe old age of four and ten."
"Your brother's a pig," Rhaenyra remarked.
Rosella burst out laughing.
The two others followed suit.
"Rhaenyra, that's not kind," Alicent chimed in, something dancing in her deep brown eyes, pausing for a brief moment, "What did the poor pig do to deserve such a comparison?"
The girls burst into tandem laughter once again.
Several nobles stared at the trio as they passed, Rosella's cheeks growing red as she nearly doubled over in laughter.
"Lady Rosella," The sharp voice of Ser Gareth Marbrand cut through their laughter, silencing the three girls as they turned to face the sworn sword.
He was dressed in the red cloak of House Lannister, a solemn look always on his face even on the happiest of occasions.
The copper-haired second son was only a few years older than Rosella, but he carried himself as if he'd seen the horrors of the Age of Heroes.
He cleared his throat as he marched closer, "You have been summoned."
Rosella and the other girls giggled as she threw her golden curls over her shoulder and waved the summons away, "My brother can wait a few minutes more–"
"It is the Queen, my lady," Gareth cut in, not a note of playfulness in his tone.
Rosella's laughter faded, trading a look with Rhaenyra, but the Targaryen girl simply shrugged, looking just as confused as Rosella did.
"Alright…" Rosella pushed herself off the bannister of the balcony, eyes darting between her two friends as her sworn sword fell in perfect step beside her, escorting her through the winding halls of the Red Keep.
Once they were out of earshot, Rosella turned toward Ser Gareth, "You don't have to be so sour all the time," She chimed with a smirk on her face, "Rhaenyra and Alicent can be good fun–"
"I am sure The Princess and Lady Hightower are good companions, my lady," Gareth cut her off again, his pale blue eyes staring forward as his hand flexed against the hilt of his sword, which Rosella was now eyeing, "But it is my job to protect you. I am not here to make friends."
She tried to ignore the panging in her chest at his words.
Gareth had once been her childhood playmate, squiring for her father while Rosella crawled every inch of Casterly Rock, the two often ending up covered in dirt as they returned from their adventures.
He'd been knighted before they'd set off to King's Landing, and since then he'd been nothing but cold and serious.
He'd grown into a man over the last several years, and Rosella wished she could see him smile again like the boy he once was.
"One could argue making friends is protecting me," Rosella smiled, turning on her feet as she let memory guide her backwards through the Red Keep, "After all, the more friends you have, the more protection I will be given."
The Marbrand boy rolled his eyes, gently grabbing the Lannister girl by the bicep and spinning her forward, steering her through the halls at a quickened pace.
Rosella eyed the knight's sword, the bronze hilt shimmering in the summer sun.
She grasped the pommel and pulled, the weapon sliding from its scabbard with laughable ease.
She twirled the weapon with a flick of her wrist, as if it were a toy instead of a longsword.
Gareth's eyes grew wide and his shoulders tensed underneath his armor, "Lady Rosella–"
"Come now Gareth," She teased, moving further down the hallway, "You know me well enough to drop the formalities."
"My lady–"
Rosella refused to let him finish, racing down the hallway toward Queen Aemma's chambers, passing servants and noblemen alike.
It wasn't an unusual scene to see the Lannister girl running through the halls, nor was it unusual to see her sworn knight chasing after her.
Rosella left laughter in her wake, bouncing off the condensed halls of Maegor's Holdfast, causing Kingsguard to shake their heads and servants to jump out of the way at the last second.
"Rosella!"
Gareth's voice echoed behind her, and she tasted victory on her lips, the Lannister pride welling up in her chest at the thought of breaking her knight's stoic demeanor.
Her red skirts flared around her legs as she rushed up stairs and past flickering torches until she landed a few paces away from the Queen's chambers.
She leaned against the brick wall, clasping the sword to her chest as she caught her breath.
It had been a long time since she'd ran the length of the Holdfast alone, usually dragging Alicent behind her or being dragged by Rhaenyra.
Heavy footsteps echoed in her ears and she turned the corner with a sly smile, "You're faster than I give you credit for Ser–"
She froze when she caught sight of a shock of silver hair, clearly not her sworn sword.
Instead it was the Rogue Prince himself, the deep violet eyes of Daemon Targaryen staring into the bright green of her own.
The Prince was dressed in red and black leathers, Dark Sister hanging at his side.
Six years at the capitol and still Rosella couldn't help the knot that formed at the base of her throat when interacting with the Targaryen heir.
He was as imposing as he was ruthless, and Rosella quickly dipped into a curtsey, dropping her gaze to the floor.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not–"
"I do hope you weren't planning on running my goodsister through with that sword, Lady Lannister." Prince Daemon's lilting tone brought her gaze back up to meet his, a smirk plastered across his face, "Or me for that matter."
"What?" She blurted out, trying to regain her composure, "No, my Prince, I was simply–"
"Daemon." A harsh voice cut her off once more, and Rosella straightened her back and smoothed out her skirts as best she could, turning to face the voice.
Queen Aemma was dressed in the sky blues of her father's House, pale hair matching her goodbrother. She was a Targaryen as much as she was an Arryn, and relief flooded Rosella's veins at the sight of the woman.
"Do stop torturing the poor girl," Queen Aemma chided, her hand stopping to rest around the newly formed bump on her stomach, "She hardly knows how to react."
Rosella bristled at the Queen's words and the careless bow the Prince gave her as he left, snorting at the sight of her.
Just because she wasn't a dragon didn't mean she didn't know how to handle herself.
The Queen sighed and turned her gaze toward her ward, "Now, Lady Rosella, do tell me what you have done to that poor knight of yours."
The clanking of armor and heavy breathing answered the Queen's question, Ser Gareth pulling himself up the stairs before collapsing on the ground outside the Queen's chambers.
Rosella turned toward Aemma with an apologetic expression, and the Queen shook her head.