Chapter Text
Cersei
“Never, You will wed the king. Aye, Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear. Oh, aye. Six and ten for him and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds, and when your tears have drowned you the valonqar shall wrap his hands around your pale white throat and choke the life from you”
The words of Maggy the Frog repeated itself to her every time she was alone. The words haunt her every waking moment and sometimes it follows her to sleep. The rhythmic pop the fabric gave when the needle pierced it and the soft sigh as the thread drags through was her only release. Aunt Genna sat across from her with her own embroidery in her hands listening offhandly as Janei told some story or the other of dashing knights.
Cersei wished she had been simple minded as her cousin, her greatest plight was a knight loving her. The girl had no concern for the war that was happening around them and why should she. Her cousin was just an awful copy of her, she was not as pretty as she was and her father was only a second son, she truly would be lucky to marry a knight. The girl was the same age as Tyrion and she supposed at that age she was only thinking about who she would marry too.
It continued like that inside their work room, the wind caught Cersei’s attention as it pushed her golden curls from her face and caressed her cheeks. It was the stinging sensation of needle piercing flesh that drew her back to her work. She quickly put her finger to her mouth and the metallic taste of blood consumed her senses. She was glad it had not stained her work, the golden lion was almost complete and then her handkerchief would be able to be sent to Jaime.
She missed her twin dearly, she hoped he was doing well, he would protect the king and the prince, she was sure. Father was foolish to not send aid to the king, it would make her marriage to Rhaegar all that more difficult if the king thought they were traitors. The door opened and uncle Kevan entered, he greeted them before sending Janei off to join her mother. Cersei wondered what has happened that was not fit for the girl to hear. It seemed aunt Genna had the same thought.
“What has happened”
“Word came from the most recent battle, they are calling it the battle of the Trident”
“And” Cersei could hear the impatience in her aunt's tone.
“Prince Rhaegar is dead, crushed under Robert's hammer, They are heading to King’s Landing Tywin hopes to beat them there, the Lannister have picked a side to support.”
Cersei felt nauseous, why would Robert Baratheon do this, why did Rhaegar have to die for the sake of some Stark girl in a war his father started, it was not fair, how was she to be queen now. She wanted to cry, she wanted to storm out of the room and demand father make Robert pay for what he had taken from her. What had Jaime even done, could he not protect a single person, if she had been born the boy and him the girl she would have been able to at least do that much. But those were the actions of a child, she was not a child so instead she put down her work and asked the question that must be asked.
“What side has my father joined?” She knew of course she did, her father was a pragmatist he would choose the side that was winning. He would turn on the king and join Robert after all Rhaegar was dead, the last dragon was gone.
“The Lannisters support the rebellion Cersei, your father wishes to save your brother” Cersei nodded before excusing herself.
She was glad to find her rooms empty, so sullenly she flung herself onto her bed and she cried, big heaping sobs that should alert someone that something was wrong so she pressed her face into her pillow. She saw her father off, offering him the kerchief that had been for Jamie, her father was not a soft man but he did press a kiss to her head and promised he would get a crown for her. She did not want it if it came attached to Robert Baratheon but she smiled sweetly and bid him farewell.
Her life continued as it always had; she would do needle work with her aunt and cousin, torment Tyrion and gossip. She was in the middle of gossiping with aunt Genna when Janie came in with a parchment, it was for her. The wax seal had already been broken, likely by her uncle but she still read the missive with a hungry eye. Was it from Jaime? It was not, the sharp concise hand writing that belonged to her father was etched across the paper.
‘You are to depart for King’s Landing within the week, Robert has agreed to take you to wife, you will be queen of the seven kingdoms’
She passed the missive to her aunt who had been waiting to see what it said. Her smile was blinding.
“This is brilliant Cersei, I told you long ago your father would make you queen, this is wonderful, I shall have you packed” She smiled with her aunt and cousin, she played the part of the happy bride but she was not. She did not want Robert, he was the brute who shattered her dreams, the only constellation was that she would be with Jaime. They called him Kingslayer now but she did not care. She would be close to him. She would perform her duty to this brute so that father would be proud of her, and once he has taken her maiden head she would be free to do with Jaime as she pleased.
King’s Landing was alive with celebration, their wheelhouse was on its way to the Red Keep and Cersei could not help but to stare outside the window. She could not understand how these people could be so happy with a brute on the throne. Robert Baratheon was claiming his grandmother was a Targaryen and that gave him a right to the throne as much as his conquest.
She was dressed opulently, her golden curls were done into a high braid and her dress was Lannister red Myrish silk with golden embroidery. Aunt Genna was beside her in a dress of a similar colour though the cut was designed for someone more plump. The air within the carriage was stifling, heavy with the scent of perfume and heat. She longed to step out and feel the breeze, but her father had insisted she arrive in proper fashion. The people must see their new queen as radiant, untouchable, not sweat-stained and windblown.
Outside, the crowd roared for Robert’s name. Smallfolk waved scraps of cloth dyed Baratheon yellow. She felt her lip curl. Fools, every one of them. They cheered for a usurper and knew nothing of what they had lost. If they had seen Rhaegar, heard him speak, they would have known what a king should be. Instead, they celebrated a simple man with a hammer; their only solace would be that she would be their queen.
When the gates of the Red Keep came into view, her heart beat faster. The sight was familiar and strange all at once. She had walked those halls before as a girl, her father’s daughter, certain her beauty would win her the crown, that if the prince would only catch sight of her he would become enamored. Now she returned not as a guest but as the prize for a victor. The stones seemed darker than she remembered, the banners foreign. Even the air felt wrong.
The wheelhouse came to a stop in the courtyard. Gold cloaks stood at attention, and beyond them she saw knights in bright mail and torn surcoats; remnants of war wearing the smiles of men who had survived it. Aunt Genna left the wheel house first, she waited for her father’s nod before she descented. It was strange how he knew she would look for him . The sun caught her hair as she stepped down, the gold blazing like fire. For a moment, the crowd hushed. It was enough. Let them see her. Let them remember that a lioness had come to rule.
Her gaze swept the courtyard until it found him,Jaime. Her twin. He stood apart from his other counterparts, his white cloak stark against the red stones, his face unreadable. He had always been beautiful to her, and he looked even more so now, though harder somehow, she could not have that, she preferred him softer, more like her. The weight of his new title must hang on him like armor. Kingslayer. She wanted to run to him, to touch him, to make sure he was real, but there were too many eyes watching.
She should have been looking at Robert, it is what was proper, so she inclined her head, regal, distant, every inch the queen-to-be and turned to face the men gathered on the steps. Her father moved to greet the men waiting on the steps. Lord Jon Arryn was among them, his expression calm, and beside him Robert and the Stark boy she forgot his name but she knew he was fostered in the Eyrie with Robert.
Cersei had imagined this moment too many times. She had thought she would hate him or against her better judgment spit on him at first sight, and she did, though not in the way she expected she greeted the Arryn lord first and him last. He was larger than she remembered, his frame broad and solid, his face sun-browned and bearded. There was a dangerous sort of charm in his grin, but it was dulled by arrogance. His eyes raked over her as if she were meat and she sighed beneath her breath.
The rumors were true then, this so called king was a womanizer and a whore monger who already had bastards at his feet. She could not blame the Stark girl from fleeing with the prince, her life would be the subject of ridicule and hardship. She could already tell his eyes would stray from her quickly. She was the greeted beauty in Westeros, everyone said so and she would have trouble keeping her husband in her bed. It did not matter, with him in the bed of others it would only leave space for Jaime. She would not mind that all, the brute might even assign him to her, claiming them family. Yes, that would be nice, to have them both so close right under his nose.
“My lady,” he said, his voice booming through the courtyard. “The realm has remained marveled by your beauty; the only thing greater would be the crown on my head.”
The courtiers laughed. Cersei smiled because she must, lowering her head just enough to seem demure. Inside, she imagined his skull cracking against the steps. The laughter in the courtyard had not yet faded when Lord Tywin stepped forward. His expression was calm, controlled, though Cersei could sense the weight of his silence. He bowed, exchanged quiet words with the new king. Robert’s booming laugh followed soon after, loud and graceless. His hand fell to Tywin’s shoulder in the manner of a man greeting a drinking companion rather than a great lord.
“Your Grace,” said Lord Jon Arryn, stepping closer. “The Lady Cersei and Lady Genna has come far. The roads have been long and crowded with celebration. Perhaps she might rest before the feasting begins.” She had just now noticed the hand’s pin on his doublet and secretly fumed that they did not offer it to her father. She knew logically Robert did not know her father the way he knew the Arryn lord but merit should hold some value
Robert’s grin widened as he turned to her. “Aye, the lady must be weary indeed. We’ll have time enough for merriment and… plans. King’s Landing will be her home before long.”
There it was before long. No vows spoken, no promise declared, just a careless hint tossed before the court. Her father inclined his head, unruffled to any but the most watchful eye. But Cersei saw it, the flicker of cold displeasure, a tightening at the corner of his mouth.
Jon Arryn continued, his tone smooth, practiced. “The realm shall have its joy soon enough. When the Tully girls arrive, we shall see the great unions sealed in one grand ceremony. A fitting end to a time of war.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Tully girls. Catelyn and Lysa, each had been promised something different in the whispers Cersei had heard along the roads. No one yet knew what name each girl would take, only that the Tullys would be bound to the new order one way or another. Her aunt had guessed Catelyn would go North as she would have had the mad king not burned her betrothed.
“Yes, three beautiful blushing brides though how shall any compare to the Lady of Casterly Rock” Robert joked slapping his stark friend on the back. The Man looked sullen, his lips were set in a scowl and her steel grey eyes watched her. He had long straight hair that was pulled back from his long face. She supposed her face would also be in a permanent scowl if her father and brother were burned alive, and she could not forget about his sister.
“Your Grace is too kind,” she said, voice smooth as silk, still her eyes were on the Stark lord. They are friends, Robert would take counsel from this man, it would be best if he liked her. Her father’s gaze met hers briefly, an unspoken command to endure. The performance was over.
Robert turned away. “Ser Jaime!” he called, waving a thick hand. “See your sister and aunt to their chambers. Maegor's wing is ready, I’m told.”
The corridors of the Red Keep were quieter now, the sound of celebration fading into the distance. Servants curtsied as they passed, their eyes flicking curiously toward her and then away. The smell of oil and candle wax clung to the air, the same scent she remembered from her girlhood visits, though the halls felt smaller now, dimmer somehow. Jaime guided them through Maegor’s Holdfast, his steps sure despite the maze of turns. Aunt Genna followed beside Cersei, her bearing regal though her face was drawn from the long day.
“You remember this place?” Jaime asked softly.
“Of course,” Cersei said. “Father told me to memorize it, that it would be my home.”
Genna’s lips curved up faintly. “And it still shall. Patience, my dear Cersei, the kingdom is crippled from Robert’s war, they need Lannister gold in the coffers.” Patience. The word tasted like bile in her throat, how much longer did she need to wait. How hard was it for the brute to declare her his intended bride.
They reached the chambers selected for her at last; a tall oaken door carved with dragons stood before her betraying the true owners of the keep. Two handmaidens curtsied as Jaime pushed it open, revealing a solar rich in detail: gold-threaded tapestries, Chaises hung with crimson upholstery, polished floors that gleamed in the sunlight. It was a fine room and yet cold, she was glad aunt Genna would be close to her while they waited for the Tullies.
Genna stepped forward first, surveying the room with a practiced eye. “The servants have done well,” she murmured. “We will be comfortable here until you are moved to the rooms of the queen.”
“It will do,” Cersei replied. Her voice was even, but her gaze lingered on all the details and imagery around the room.
Genna moved to adjust one of the drapes, then turned to Cersei with the quiet authority only an older Lannister could carry. “Rest, child. Tomorrow will bring counsel, talk of alliances, and more eyes upon you than stars in the sky. You must meet them looking every inch a queen.” Cersei inclined her head, unwilling to show the sting in the word child.
Jaime smiled faintly, stepping closer. “She’s right, you know. Even lions must sleep, the road was long.”
That earned the smallest laugh from her. “And what of you, ser lion?”
“I am to attend to the king,” he said. “He’s hosting a supper tonight for the men who fought beside him.” His tone held no warmth. “I will stay only as long as duty demands, he has proven to be one into his cups.” He frowned at his own observations.
She reached for his hand then, quickly, before she could think better of it. “Take care, brave brother.”
He squeezed her fingers once before letting go and placing a tender kiss on her head. “As should you sweet sister.” Cersei would have scoffed, she was no sweeter than a scorpion but it had never mattered between them, Jaime would always find her his sweet, daring sister just as she willed it.
Aunt Genna watched them, a fond expression that she usually reserved for her sons playing on her face. Then, in a show of softness, she reached forward and embraced him. “Your mother would be proud,” she said quietly.
His face reddened as he bowed his head slightly to her, then to Cersei. “Rest well, both of you.”
When he was gone, the silence seemed to deepen. Genna crossed to one of the doors in the solar, making her claim on the room inside. Pausing to glance back. “You’ve borne yourself well today. Remember, whatever airs these lords put on, there is no house greater than ours. Hold to that, and you will not falter.”
Cersei nodded once. Genna gave a small approving smile and left, closing the door gently behind her.
Alone at last, Cersei stood by the window. The city spread below her in a haze of red tiles and shadows, the sound of revelry drifting faintly in the air. Somewhere out there, the man who would be her husband laughed and rejoiced in his victory, and her father measured every word that passed between them.
She turned away from the window and made her way to the room she claimed for herself unfastening her jewels one by one until only her hair remained, a pale river in the light. She called for one of the servants that had been assigned to her rooms to help with the bodice of her dress. Her own servants and handmaidens would have the space ready by the next day but she wanted to be comfortable.
When the girl was finished she curtsied and left the room. Cersei slipped beneath the coverlets, though sleep did not come easily her mind raced with all the promises made to her. Maggy the Frog, her father and now the King. Before long, he had said she drifted off thinking of it.