284 A.C. Cercei Lannister X

So, the day had finally arrived, after that hellish journey and then a seemingly interminable wait (though only a few days it had to be said), she was to be married. Sitting at a mirror in the quarters that she had been assigned in the First Keep she let a sneer twist her face. It was hardly how she expected her wedding day to be, her earliest fantasies had been of her marrying Rhaegar Tagaryen, later after that dream had been crushed by that plain Dornish dug Ellia Martell her fantasy had shifted to some valiant knight of the stories that her Septa had read to her when she was younger. Over time the knight in these stores had shifted to become Jamie, and these fantasies of her being wed to Jamie some of her most cherished memories. Of course she knew that actually marrying Jamie would be difficult, if not impossible, but the fantasy was agreeable, and their couplings had helped keep the fantasy burning. She did not know if Jamie shared it, nor did she really care, it was her fantasy after all. But the most important thing had to be to keep Jamie close, to protect her, to be with her, to do as she bid, and yes, to fuck her with his perfect manhood. She shuddered a little at the memory of one of their unions, the golden hair between her legs meeting the golden hair at the base of Jamie's pillar as he filled her with himself, the perfect union of their perfect bodies encapsulated in that one, fevered image. "My lady, are you cold?" asked one of the maids assigned to her, some northern chit whose name she chose not to remember.

"No I am fine...my hair?"

"Nearly ready my Lady" the girl had piped up, she was busy with heated tongs curling Cersei's long blonde tresses into a wavy, curled mass that she would wear down, framing her face and cascading down her back. Seeing as how she was breaking with 'tradition' by wearing white, why not also break with tradition and not wear her hair up in a complicated and probably uncomfortable style?

'White to symbolise her purity and maidenhood' was how her father had put it, she smirked at that, the fool, the utter fool knew nothing. She felt a savage pride fill her with the knowledge that she and Jamie had him hoodwinked about the true nature of their relationship.

But would the Stark notice that she was no longer a maid? Maybe, he seemed to have shown no interest in the far too many serving wenches, chamber maids and even high born daughters that had tried to catch his eye during their journey to the North. Mayhaps the Stark had not yet know a woman? Possible, but she highly doubted that, a man like him, with that body and that air of confidence and power? She doubted any woman would say him no if he pressed his case.

And what of the rumours of Ashara Dayne and him, of their child that had killed the Dornish woman as she had struggled to deliver the baby, itself dead also? The Dornish woman had been reputed to have been the greatest beauty of her age, a 'dusky jewel' who had captured the hearts of Knights and Lords up and down the length and breadth of the Seven Kingdoms. And it seemed that she had captured the heart of Ned Stark, and more. At this an image of a naked Ned Stark crept into her mind, she suppressed it, she would know exactly what Ned Stark would look like naked soon enough she thought in a sudden sour twist. He would not compare well to Jamie she knew, despite his physical presence, despite his handsomeness, there could be no one more beautiful than Jamie, none who could even approach his golden perfection.

Jamie, the man who in spite of everything had betrayed her.

"My Lady, is everything alright?" asked that brainless maid again.

"What is wrong now!" she huffed in anger.

"Nothing my Lady, it's just that your face twisted there for a second, I thought I had hurt you?"

"Don't worry, if you hurt me you will know all about it!" hissed Cersei in response "continue!"

"Yes my Lady" replied the girl who returned to her task.

Now where was she, a naked Ned Stark versus a naked Jamie? She felt heat rise in her cheeks and neck, spreading to her upper chest. She moved al little uncomfortably, that dammed heat had made a beeline for her womanhood, which had tingled and moistened in response.

'Urgh' she grunted in frustration, and moved to squash any and all such thoughts.

She shifted in her seat and eyed herself in the mirror, she did look beautiful, and there certainly was not a woman among the gathered nobles or the servants of Winterfell that could hold a candle to her beauty. And for all her father's foolishness about the colour of the dress, it was a magnificent dress. It clung to her like a second skin, leaving her shoulders bare, her arms sheathed in the same silk and lace, the dress cut horizontal across her flesh, the upper swell of her breasts juts visible. The gown was not revealing as such, but its cut and style emphasised her womanly charms and figure, she was sure that there was not a man who would not find her ravishing in this dress.

And all for a dour and seemingly uninterested northern Lord, what an utter waste! Most of the clothes she had brought with her from Kings Landing were unsuitable for Winterfell, too flimsy or light and there was no 'court' here to speak of, no coteries of Ladies in Waiting to have at ones beck and call, no parties to arrange, no balls to be held. As there were no competing factions that she could see there was no need for a court and the politics and intrigue that were the lifeblood of any court, and where the competing ladies would seek to bolster their Houses position with balls, parties, salons and the like.

No, here there was nothing for her but a desolation of grey stone and endless boredom. A single tear fell from her eye to mourn the loss of the life that Cersei Lannister had once had.