If she could stop this wedding, she would have done so the moment the betrothal was announced. Alas, she was forced to suffer her dear son falling into the thorns of the Tyrell slut.

Another child lost.

The preparations for the feast had come along nicely. She had not participated, of course, as she was queen and therefore had more important matters to attend to, but she had seen the work in the gardens. Though perhaps she should do something about the concerning amount of golden rose banners being hung from the trees. The people should bow to the king, not his wife.

Joffrey was with her father, much to her great disdain. She wished the Old Lion would leave the city and go back to the Rock, and make her the Hand of the King. She had the experience, after all, having acted as Regent for her son ever since his coronation.

Yet with her father here, she had nothing. Only a title. Life with Robert had been no different.

She deserved to rule, she deserved to wear that crown.

Shouts rang through the halls, and then a grey cat narrowly passed by her. She almost let out a scream - almost. She was a queen, after all.

Then her son crashed into her from behind.

"Tommen!" she called out.

"Apologies, mother." He seemed fully intent to run after the cat that had disappeared around a corner, yet she held onto his arm.

"This behaviour is unbecoming of a prince. Especially not with so many guests currently in our halls."

"Apologies, mother."

"What are you doing out here, anyways? You should be asleep."

"Merlin escaped my room. I was trying to catch him to bring him back."

"We have servants for this, my dear." She tried to brush through his hair, yet was not able to tame his curls.

Tommen was tall for his age, much as all of his siblings had been. He was at this strange state of growth where his limbs were too long for the rest of his body, leading him to stumble and fall more than usual. Perhaps, she considered, he might grow up to look like Jaime. He had the blonde hair, after all, and the interest in jousts and knights. Only his strange obsession with cats and animals could turn into a hindrance towards this.

"Apologies, mother."

"You must return to your rooms and go to bed this instance. Your brother's wedding is tomorrow, and we represent the strength of the crown. None of us can risk looking tired."

"But I-"

"I can take him," a voice suddenly said from behind.

Cersei turned around to see Myrcella standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Yes, do that. And make sure he goes to bed this time."

"Yes, mother."

Myrcella took her brother's hand and led him back down the hallway where they both had come from. After watching them for a few moments, she started walking towards her own rooms.

Something she had not considered, however, was that the path she had chosen would lead her past the door.

It looked unassuming, to the unknowing. Yet another finely crafted door in the royal wing of Maegor's Holdfast, the dark wood contrasting against the red stones of the Keep's walls.

But what laid behind it…

It had been over ten years since she had stepped foot in these chambers, yet she still knew down to the last detail what they looked like. If she closed her eyes, she still saw the bed that had been far too big for its owner, the red curtains hiding the alcove, the messily painted wardrobe, and the toys lined up perfectly on the cupboard next to the window.

She had forbidden anyone from entering the room. Had locked the door and kept the key safely hidden on her body at all times.

Her hand grasped her pocket as if on instinct, feeling the weight of the metal through the fabric.

These chambers would be unlocked again one day, that she was sure of. Light would flood the room, laughter would ring through the halls, and she would finally embrace her daughter once more.

Her daughter was not dead, she repeated in her head.

Especially not after what she had heard in the small council.

Varys' words had silenced the entire table.

"I have heard a whisper that there is someone in the Riverlands claiming to be Princess Cerelle."

The Spider had smiled, as he always did when he shared surprising news, or things only he had had previous knowledge of. Usually, she would have wanted to claw his eyes out.

That name had not been spoken in the Red Keep in so long, or if it had it had not been in her presence. Everyone knew of the kind of punishment that awaited those speaking ill of her daughter or the circumstances of her kidnapping. And now Varys had simply spoken it. As if it meant nothing to him.

"And do these… whispers hold actual weight?"

"That remains to be seen, as they were accompanied by claims that House Penfenics has miraculously re-emerged. After eight thousand years."

Someone was impersonating her daughter, there could be no other explanation for it. Because if she was out there, if her dearest child was alive and free she would immediately make her way back home.

But what if this was her daughter's way of sending her a sign? What if she still was being held captive, and was able to only get out a mere whisper of her name, telling her to find her, save her?

She entered her rooms and stared at the necklace laying on her bedside table.

Her daughter's name day was coming up. Cerelle was turning eight and ten towards the end of the next moon. In the previous years, Cersei had spent that day locked in her chambers, drinking enough wine to forget even her own name. But this time would be different, she knew.

Seven times three she shall be yours.

The time had not passed yet. Cerelle was still out there, waiting to be rescued, desperate to return to her mother. It had promised.

Her daughter would return to her, she repeated in her mind. And everything would be as it once was.

a/n: let's get ready and excited, joffrey's wedding's coming up next week