Daeron:
"The lady Cersei Lannister is a beauty," His mother remarked casually.
"She is." He'd be a blind fool to deny that fact. He had seen her countless times, and was aware of it. The thought of her stirred little lust in him, but plenty of bitterness.
Father had been kind enough to excuse mother and himself. He was escorting her back to her chambers upon her request. Sers Barristan and Alliser were trailing them like two pale shadows.
"Do you have plans of becoming a Septon or a Maester?"
He smiled at his mother's jape. He looked over to see her smiling at being able to get a reaction out of him. He had been content to be silent. "I'm sorry, Mother." She deserved more than his quiet contemplation, but this was all so unexpected. This morning he was a prince without a castle or a wife, and now his father had given him both, but he was more wary than happy.
"You are a good boy," her hand touched his cheek. "She is blessed to be able to call you husband someday."
No, she isn't, he wanted to correct. Cersei Lannister did not want him. She had only eyes for his brother. I am nothing but a consolation and a disappointment. Her choice was my brother, but instead she got me.
The bitterness churned in his gut
"You were given a castle and a wife."
"I asked for neither." He knew he sounded flippant, but his annoyance was starting to rise. Not at his mother, but at the situation his father had put them in.
He should've been pleased. This was more than he ever hoped to have. Daeron had been resigned to his fate. He understood it would be tied to the generosity of first his father and then his brother when he ascends to the Throne. Even amidst these gifts his father gave him, he could not ignore the poison in which they were wrapped in.
A woman who chose his brother, and a castle that his father and Rhaegar desired.
Summerhall, he knew some of its history. He had never gone to see its ruins. That had been his brother's place to dwell. Daeron cared little of it. The castle was just another thing that my brother had picked over me . It was a long list.
How many times had he seen Rhaegar ride to those ruins? He wondered. I wanted to ride with him. I wanted to get him to stay to play, but he had always declined. The memories of those rejections were hard to stomach, so he buried them.
"Your father is being generous."
He wanted to scoff. He ignored the temptation. This was the Red Keep. The Eunuch had eyes and ears behind the walls and under the floors.
"This was for our king," Daeron said carefully. He had heard Father lament its fall more times than he could count. The smoldering castle meant more to his father and his brother than Daeron ever thought it could mean to him.
And it is me who will take it as my seat. He found that equal parts amusing and annoying. How often will I have to host them? He feared with it rebuilt, they'd flock to it often.
It will be my castle in name, and theirs in everything else.
She sent him a warning look at what he said, and her grip on his arm became firmer. They rounded a corner in silence. The corridor was empty.
"Princess Laela is pregnant," He murmured. "If it is a boy. I drop down in the line of succession." This did not bother him. The Throne was for Rhaegar and Daeron was to remain in the shadows.
"I am a glorified hedge knight without the knighthood," He observed dryly. He stopped to see Mother was watching him closely. Her eyes were sharp, and beneath that gaze was a sharper mind, despite father's attempts to dull it with cruelty and malice.
"Father gets his castle paid for by the lions," He said quietly. "And he has Tywin bound to our family without threat or a chance of the Lannisters claiming the throne."
"These are dangerous words, Daeron," The warning in her voice was clear. They were nearing her chambers.
"I am an anchor to sink the Lannisters' ambitions. I'm nothing more than gilded chains to clasp a lion and to stop its reach."
"You are more than that."
He gave her a sad smile. "This is where I leave you, Mother," He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Daeron felt her searching eyes, but he would not meet her gaze.
"Goodbye, my son," She accepted his choice, "But parting words from your mother."
He had already turned to go. His back was to her, but he nodded.
"If all you look for is sadness and slights then you will never stop finding them. Move forward, instead of looking back."
Daeron left after that.
"This is great news, Cousin!"
Daeron had needed Robert's enthusiasm and company after his meeting with his father and his talk with his mother. So he had sent for him before returning to his chambers. The cousins were sitting in his solar, sharing a bottle of some sweet wine that Robert had brought with him. The wine was as welcomed as his cousin.
"You'll be in the Stormlands with me," Robert was grinning from across the table. "Do not worry, I'll be a good and fair lord to you." He let out a loud laugh afterwards.
Daeron found his cousin's mood infectious, feeling his own smile slipping through and a chuckle followed.
"Bout bloody time," Robert saw it too. "I was beginning to think you were Ned with just silver hair."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
Robert wagged a finger at him, a low rumbling sound followed. "Clever, Cousin, but I will not fall for that trap."
Daeron hid his smile behind his glass as he drained the rest of his in one sip. He put the empty glass down.
Robert poured him another without hesitation. "You are marrying a beautiful woman." He shook his head, "And yet you act as if you're about become a Eunuch like our Lord Varys."
"There's an image," Daeron muttered into his cup.
"Cersei Lannister," Robert let out a whistle that was common for him when he was near sultry wenches and pretty serving maids.
"I am blessed," Daeron said dully as he drank to his future wife. Her image flickered in front of him, long golden hair, emerald eyes, with pale skin and high cheekbones. It was a pretty sight, b ut he could not ignore her voice. Her whispers of Rhaegar. Her simpering for his brother. Her prayers for the prince.
He frowned. His grip on the glass tightening before he banished her from his thoughts altogether.
I'm marrying a woman who'd rather be Rhaegar's second wife then my only one.
"You're not still thinking about-"
"No," Daeron cut him off before he could continue. He sent him a warning look to drop that particular topic.
"Very well," Robert understood, holding up his hands to placate him. "I'm just trying to understand this."
"You will not understand," He interrupted. Not unless your wife or betrothed chooses someone else instead of you. And I do not wish that on you, Cousin.
Robert's blue eyes looked at him closely, lips pursed. He looked to be in deep thought, or trying to will Daeron's secrets to spring up like one draws water from a well.
When Daeron met his stare with silence, Robert relented with a "Pah," and drank from his glass. "There is some good news to gleam from this," he said. "Mayhaps, Ned will get his pretty Dornish maiden."
Daeron did not begrudge his friend that. He knew how much Ned cared for the Lady Ashara. He had been determined that if any betrothal between him and the Maiden of Starfall be made that he'd sooner leave for Essos than honor it.
I'm tied to a lion, but at least the wolf gets his star.
"Indeed," He agreed to his friend's observation. "I'd send him a letter, but we'd reach him at Casterly Rock before any raven. Now that he's traveling through the north."
Robert voiced his agreement. "He'll be told the truth while also having her near," He said with a sly smile.
He saw the truth in Robert's words. The timing was a blessing for their northern friend and the dornish maiden he wished to court. They'll be together at Casterly Rock. Mayhaps another betrothal can be forged in the fires of their friends' wedding.
"Speaking of betrothals," Robert sat straighter in his seat. "There is something I wanted to talk to you about, Cousin."
"Oh?" Daeron was surprised at how quickly his friend's mood sobered.
"Aye, you know Ned went to Winterfell," on his nod, he continued. "He's bringing his sister with him for the wedding." Robert licked his lips after taking another sip from his glass. His eyes held a certain glaze to them at the mention of Ned's sister. "Lyanna," He said quietly. "She's a real she wolf," He laughed at unsaid memories.
"You want to pursue her?" Daeron was surprised. He had suspected Robert to marry a noblewoman from the Stormlands. Mayhaps, the Reach or possibly Dorne, but he never thought Robert had eyes for a northern bride.
Robert took Daeron's surprise poorly. "You think it a poor match?" He grumbled, looking down into his glass, crestfallen.
"No," Daeron hastily corrected. "I did not say that. I am just surprised," He clarified. "I did not think you were casting such a large net for a potential wife."
Robert slumped in his seat, relieved at his answer. "Aye, neither was I until my trip to Winterfell," he revealed. "She was fierce. She rides like she's half horse," He smiled. "Think on it, Cousin! A wife I could go hunting with." He brightened at the idea that was clearly being conjured in his head.
Daeron knew how much Robert enjoyed riding and hunting. There was never a visit he took to see him at Storm's End when they didn't hunt. And when Robert and Ned visited him in the capital, he always insisted on a hunt in the Kingswood or rides out to the Blackwater.
He was glad someone was excited about their possible betrothal. "Have you talked to Ned?"
Robert made a face that clearly conveyed he had not. "I want to," He said. "And I will," He added, "But I just wanted to speak on it with someone else before bringing it to him and the rest of the Starks."
"I am honored, Cousin," Daeron meant it, tipping his head to him before taking a measured sip of his wine. The sweet taste was soothing, and the warmth he felt was welcomed.
"The Starks are an old family, Robert," He pointed out. "You should think carefully on this. They are not one to insult."
"Insult?" Robert repeated. His tone mimicked the thunder of a storm. "How would I insult them?"
"You have a bastard daughter," Daeron did not blink to his cousin's rage. He was not sure if it was the wine that made him bold or his own misery.
"Mya is a sweet girl," Robert growled in warning. Angered at her being thrown at him as a slight. "And I was not betrothed when I had her."
He rolled his eyes. He thought it a flimsy excuse, and a poor shield since Robert hid behind what Daeron was really saying. "So once you are betrothed to Lady Lyanna you'll turn your head away from every wench that comes your way." Daeron knew his words were cutting deep, but they needed to be said. "Even when she's in the north and you remain in the south, alone and unfettered. You'll not tumble with any servants? Father any more bastards?"
"Careful, cousin when you speak about honor," Robert's voice had gone dangerously low. "You're the one who fucked a woman who was betrothed not I."
Daeron frowned at the reminder. "Fair point." He relented. He would not deny it. Or the truth that if given the option again, he'd take it. She's now a Redwyne. A married woman and his thoughts still drifted towards her now and then.
"I never should have told you that."
Robert waved away his words with his goblet. "Then you shouldn't have shared that bottle with me."
Daeron wanted to groan at just the memory itself of that ordeal. They had gotten into their cups, and his lips had loosened. He was still secretly reeling from her betrothal and their blissful time in Dorne. In the moment, it seemed a good idea to speak of it. He knew now that was a stomach full of wine talking. When he eventually sobered, he swore Robert not to speak of it to anyone, and his cousin agreed.
"I am just pointing out observations that will be made by those closest to you if this match is brought forward," Daeron told him. "Do you not think Lyanna will not talk to Ned about your behavior?" He knew he made his point at how his cousin winced. "She will ask him and those uncomfortable truths will come out, Cousin." He drained his cup. "I know you to be a better man than what those stories will paint. I just caution you at the image you are painting to those who are not given the luxury of your company."
Robert sighed. "You've given me much to think about." He put his glass down, looking uninterested in what remained.
Daeron had no such qualms. He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink. Mayhaps, when I wake up this will be some terrible dream. With that encouragement, he took a long sip. "You are a good man, Robert. Do not forget that, but also do not hide that."
"Aye," Robert said after mulling on his words for a few seconds. "You speak truly, Cousin. I am thankful for your counsel."
"And I am thankful for for your friendship," Daeron raised his glass to him. He made a face when some of it sloshed out of it and onto the table and his pants. Regardless, he chose to drink before he took the time to try to clean himself up.
"My prince?" Ser Barristan's voice broke through his mirthful haze. "Jaime Lannister is here to see you."
"My future goodbrother," Daeron grinned in amusement towards Robert. "Send him in."
The door opened to show his friend. "My Prince."
"Who will soon be your brother," Daeron finished with a sudden laugh. I'm living up to my namesake, he thought wryly, Daeron the Drunken.
"You're celebrating," Jaime's observation sounded more like a question.
"Why shouldn't we?" Daeron shrugged, turning to Robert who offered no words, but a nod. "Join us," He beckoned his friend closer, "Share from our bottle and our fellowship." He made room for Jaime to sit down while Robert poured him a glass.
Jaime thanked Robert with a nod and took his seat between him and his cousin who sat on opposite sides of the table. "My father told me of this fortunate news."
Robert was nursing his drink, but looked more distracted than his previous boisterous self. He had become more reserved. It seemed he was thinking more on words previously said between them then focusing on the ones being shared now.
"Fortunate indeed," Daeron agreed, "What else would you call marrying a woman who chose your brother. She wanted Rhaegar and now must settle for me." His smile soured. The mirth snuffed to the growing snarl he felt burning within. He felt his lips twist in bitterness. "I'm marrying a woman who'd prefer to be Rhaegar's second wife then my only one." He laughed, but it was not a joyous noise. It was sad and frail.
It was weak, he thought, and he despised the sound.
Memories of a boy came churning upwards:
Knocking on a door, calling for his brother. A wooden sword in his hand, pleading that this was the day he promised to play with him. He had hardly slept. He had been so excited that he had agreed to finally close one of his books and be with him.
The door opened, it was not a Dragon that answered but a White Sword, looking down in pity. I'm sorry, my prince. The voice was low and his face was stern, But your brother cannot come. He is busy.
He promised, the boy squeaked.
He is not to be disturbed. The White Sword answered. He found a new passage that he must study. The White Sword then bowed his head, and closed the door without another word.
The tears slipped down his cheeks as he stared at the door.
My prince, came a soft voice. It was the White Sword who was bound to him that day. You will come to the training yard with me.
Truly? He scrubbed the tears from his cheeks.
The White Sword smiled, Yes, if you are to one day be my squire than I have much to teach you.
"Cousin," Robert's loud voice pulled him out of a memory he long buried. Of a small and sad boy whose only friends were swords and shadows.
I wanted a brother, but he didn't want me…
"Yes," He tried to recover. He was no longer feeling the warm, comforting fog that made him feel lighter and happier. It was as if a wet blanket had been wrapped around him. He looked down at his glass and put it on the table. The desire to drink dampened quickly.
Daeron looked up to see the worried looks of Robert and Jaime. These are my brothers. These bonds are stronger than valyrian steel.
"You are right about my sister," Jaime agreed, "And she's a fool because of it."
He smiled, touched at his friend's endorsement.
Jaime took a sip from his glass. "She chose the wrong prince, but in the end she got the better one."
"Aye," Robert chorused his agreement, "He speaks true, Cousin. Rhaegar is the Crown Prince, but you're our preferred prince. You are a true friend and a good man."
"Thank you," He mumbled, touched by their words. He felt his cheeks go warm at their praise. He leaned back in his seat. "So tell me true, Jaime. How thankful should I be to one day be able to call your sister, my wife?"
"Cersei can be difficult," Jaime answered delicately, which got a guffaw from Robert.
"I was trying to celebrate his betrothal, Lannister," Robert's deep voice cut in, "not make him miserable."
"She made a mistake," Jaime said softly. "My sister will see that," Jaime pressed. "She could be good for you. You just have to give her a chance. She can be happy and so can you from this match."
Daeron frowned. He doubted Cersei would be anything but disappointed in their betrothal
"So," he paused to reflect on where he found himself. "I'll have a wife that desires my brother, and a brother who covets my castle." He looked out at the table towards his friends. "Am I missing anything?"
Cersei:
Casterly Rock was bustling.
Mother had servants frantically moving around the Rock helping to prepare the Lannister castle. The pending wedding of her brother and the Dornish princess was fast approaching. The gossip was that this was the largest and most extravagant wedding that the Rock had ever seen.
Servants, Cersei soured, what do they know?
Idle hands and wagging tongues, she thought when it came to this talk. Father will surely spare no expense when it came to her eventual wedding. After all she was to marry a dragon. That's what father had promised her. That's what mother had planned for her.
Let the servants gawk at this light fair that they consider extravagant. While the union between the Dragon and the Lion will surpass the Golden Wedding. It will shine over everything before it and diminish anything after it. Let all the Seven Kingdoms see and be in awe when their wedding would show the might of the lion and the grandiose of the dragon.
There had still been no news from the capital, but that did not bother her. Mother had been confident that the King would take Summerhall in exchange for a union.
"Cersei," Her brother's voice pulled her from her musings.
She looked up to see her young brother, a boy of 7. He was standing and being measured by tailors from Lannisport to fit him with new clothes for their brother's wedding. He was wearing a red doublet with a roaring lion stitched into it with golden thread woven along the fabric.
"You look so handsome, Sweetling," She cooed, seeing his cheeks turn red and his chest puff at her praise. She smiled at him, but her eyes turned to the tailors to see how they'd react. Would they sneer at her words and mock her brother?
Let them try, The audacity angered her, and her gaze did not leave them for the heartbeats that followed her words. To her satisfaction, they said nothing. Expressions that were furrowed in concentration and not one to mock or insult.
Good, satisfied, Cersei's fingers touched the golden bracelet adorning her wrist. It had been her latest nameday gift from Tyrion. She looked down to see the golden chain and with it were five finely carved lions.
They're us, Tyrion told her happily when she had opened it. Your pride, He'd go on to explain. So even if you leave the Rock. His face crumpled at that thought and she had kissed his cheeks to comfort him, overwhelmed by his thoughtful gift.
That had bolstered him to continue.
We'll always be with you, he finished proudly.
Its wonderful, she had told him, gushing over it and him, much to his delight. But if I recall, these are meant to be worn, she reminded him. Her smile growing when his mismatched eyes lit up in understanding.
He then took the bracelet and gently clasped it to her wrist, looking pleased when it was finished.
She looked down to admire it then, and thanked him with her words and another kiss. My sweetest lion, she praised. Cersei knew her mother's fingerprints were on the gift, and seeing her face when it was given confirmed it. However, she knew it was all from Tyrion's heart. He inspired it, and thought of it. Mother just had the means to bring it to existence, but it was all Tyrion.
"You will be the most handsome lion in attendance."
Tyrion preened, "Really?"
"Yes." Cersei would not let his doubt linger even for a heartbeat. "You must promise me a dance. I'm certain many maidens will seek you out."
Tyrion blushed at the thought, before he mustered the discipline to look serious. "I promise," He vowed, "You can have as many dances as you want with me."
Cersei grinned, "Perfect, because I'll want several." Her fingers were touching the littlest lion on the bracelet. "Thank you for being so generous."
"Do we know when Jaime will be arriving?"
"I do not know, sweetling," She saw his face fall. "But we will get a letter from Father when they depart the capital. It should be any day." Pleased to see Tyrion cheer up at her words.
They'll be traveling with Prince Daeron. This may be her brother's wedding, but Cersei knew the importance of ingratiating herself with the prince to help smoothly secure a betrothal between them.
Are you certain? She had asked her mother one night. Cersei could not sleep. Doubt had coiled itself in her heart like an agitated serpent.
As I can be, was her mother's measured response. I do know that Aerys spent many nights at the royal palace, attending and hosting feasts and tournaments. He had been devastated at its destruction.
That had comforted her only a little. It spoke of Aerys' desires, but not of her own target.
Mother sensed that. Summerhall will ensnare the king to our goal, my sweetling, but it is up to you win the prince's favor.
And that's what worried Cersei. She could not forget Princess Elia's words that were given to her when she had been in Dorne last year.
He knows you favor his brother over him. Elia warned him. He will not forget that. Then something like a sad smile passed over the Dornish princess' features, and I'm uncertain if he will forgive that.
I had no choice, she argued hotly. It was not fair. She was following Father's instructions. She could not be punished for that!
You wanted Rhaegar well before Father's honeyed words were poured in your ear, a small voice whispered inside her. You wanted him then. You want him now.
Elia regarded her sympathetically. I will help you, but this will be no easy task. Betrothed or not, the Prince is not a man to forgive slights against him especially those made to favor Rhaegar.
Cersei sighed. Her time in Dorne had been a defeat. The Prince had not stayed more than week after she arrived. He left with his friends, Robert and Ned. First to the Stormlands and then his friends went on to the Eyrie with the Prince receiving an invitation from House Arryn to stay as well. Jaime would join them after his time with Elia, but Cersei had no way of following.
Disheartened, she returned to the Rock with her brother. Disappointed that she had failed her parents again when it came to winning over a prince's affection.
She pushed away those dour thoughts and memories. I am a lioness, she reminded herself. I will not fail my family and my house. If it is a dragon they want then I shall deliver it.
If I had more time with him then, I'd have him. She was certain of it. Despite her future goodsister's caution, Cersei could not help but think it should be easy for her to crack once she has the dragon here at the Rock. How could he resist her?
There she saw her reflection in the looking glass that the tailors were using to measure and examine her youngest brother. In seeing her, she felt the doubt melt away to be replaced by hardened confidence.
Why should I not be confident? She was a beautiful woman now. Her six and ten nameday had passed only a few weeks ago.
E veryone remarks on my beauty, at how lovely I am, and men are such base creatures. She thought, feeling the lustful gazes in the eyes of many when she came into view. He'll look at me and all will be forgiven and forgotten.
He Prince will be thankful to have me at his side when he sees me. He will consider himself blessed to call me his wife.
And to lie with me, her cheeks grew hot at the wicked image that came to her, stirring her own desires. Her reflection looked back at her with a flushed face and a light gleam in her green eyes.
I will charm him with my beauty, seduce him, she decided. She'd have the time. The guests would be here for days for the wedding, and she'd be the lovely host to accommodate him.
How could he refuse me? She wanted to scoff at the mere thought. It felt insulting.
She knew her friends told her caution and that he would be fickle, but she pushed those aside the more she thought about her own plan. Yes, the more she thought about it the more she knew that she had the truth of it not them. They will all see at the wedding.
I have the means to ensnare this prince. Running a hand through her golden hair, she saw the merits of her plan. Words are wind, and when I'm in his gaze, he'll forget all about these supposed slights against him.
I'm worthy to be a queen, meant for a crown prince, and you will be getting a bride that will outshine your brother's. She smiled, satisfied at how it will go for her. I shall sink my claws into him and he'll never know it.
She almost wanted to laugh, looking back at the doubt she displayed. That she'd allow to linger in her heart. I was foolish, she decided, a second of fear nothing more. She felt her confidence swell with what she was set to achieve. I will show them all my worth.
The tailors were finished. They were talking amongst themselves, she dismissed them and instructed them on where to go for payment.
"Come, Tyrion," She held out her hand, helping his stunted legs off of the stool and steps he had been standing on.
He took it, allowing her to help him down. When they were done she looked down at him and smiled, seeing his mismatched eyes looking up at her in return.
"I pity Jaime," she told him.
Tyrion's face scrunched up. "What do you mean?"
"You," she pinched his cheek eliciting a giggle from him. "It's his wedding, but you'll be so finely dressed and handsome." She tried to smooth his coarse unruly hair with her hand. "You'll have all the ladies wanting to marry you instead."
"I don't want to distract them from Jaime," Tyrion's eyes betrayed that he liked the idea of the attention, but they dimmed with guilt. His free hand fidgeting at his side.
The sincerity in his words were touching. "Jaime, is so fortunate to have you as a brother."
Tyrion grinned.
"And me as well," She added, his smile only widened with her declaration. "Now come it is time for your lessons."
He went without protest.
Cersei regarded her reflection which was smiling back at her. Her confidence bolstered. Her certainty was firm. She went to rejoin her brother, thinking that he'll someday be getting a new and royal brother. And that thought had her smiling the entire way.
It was done.
She was giddy beyond belief at the happy news brought to her from the capital, from her father. Mother had given her the news with a warm smile, and a letter from Father which she read hungrily, looking for affection and compliments in the words and between them. Afterwards, Mother allowed her a glass of wine to celebrate the good fortune that was her betrothal to Prince Daeron Targaryen.
I'm the first, she thought exultingly later that night in her chambers. I will be the first Lannister tied to the Targaryens. Her chest swelled with pride at the feat she accomplished.
Servants and guards alike had congratulated her, and given their compliments about the betrothal. Mother wanted the news to spread as quickly as it could. She had riders go out to Lannisport to get heralds to announce so that all could hear about the betrothal between her and the prince. Mother knew the way to the people's heart. She had sent gold along too. To insure that denizens of Lannisport had wine and ale to raise to toast to Tywin Lannister's daughter's good fortunes.
A small bag of gold to us, Mother had told her, but to them they'll not forget. Let them know that when the lion prospers so do them.
Mother had also allowed some for those inside Casterly Rock to partake. Thanking them for their hard work in preparing for the wedding and to let them rest and revel in the news of Cersei's betrothal.
She put aside the smallfolk and servants who were beneath her. This was not their day. It was hers.
I'm to be a princess. She felt as if her heart was spinning in delight. A Princess of Summerhall. Father had gotten her a prince and a castle. She was so ecstatic she giggled at what was ahead of her.
It shall be splendid, she would make sure of it. I'll have it be the jewel of the south, she thought dreamily. The best feasts and tournaments, Lords and knights from all over would come to bask in the glory and gold of Summerhall. They will see the dragon and the lion and know our worth.
Conjured images of Targaryen dragon and lannister lion banners flapping above a spectacle castle that would serve as their seat. Summerhall will be the envy of every knight and lady in all the Seven Kingdoms.
She was so giddy she was nearly dizzy. Collapsing onto her four poster bed, and grinning up at the red tapestry above her. My children will be princes and princesses, she relished it.
The betrothal is set. She had been told that would be the more challenging task. What lie ahead of her would be simple. The Prince will see Summerhall and myself, and be thankful of the importance and gifts given to him by my family.
He is pleasing to look at, recalling the hard, muscled figure from her time in Dorne. She dispelled a breath and a contented sigh followed. It's his eyes, lilac and lovely. She thought of princes with golden hair and lilac eyes, and she smiled.
His pride will give way, she told herself. He'll see me, and his desires and lust have him forgetting all about his wounded pride.
I am too enticing to ignore.
"Cersei?"
She propped her head up at the sound of her brother's voice. "Come in, Tyrion."
The door opened to show her littlest brother. "Mother told me about your betrothal."
"Did she?" Cersei regarded her brother trying to read his mood. The only shadow in her light had been her fears at how her brother would react.
He bobbed his head up and down. "I'm happy for you." His smile was faltering.
She was moving in an instant to him. "What is it, sweetling?" She hugged him.
"You'll be moving," he hiccuped.
She could feel his small body shaking in her arms. "Not for a while," She soothed him, running her hands up and down her back. "I'll still be here with you." She assured him. "And you'll always be welcomed at Summerhall."
"Really?" The hope in his voice made her heart tremble as if he had doubted it.
"Of course," she silenced what ever doubt he allowed to build in his frail heart. He worried so much because what he looked like. Letting it fester and root within him. "Do not ever think differently." She leaned back so she could see his face.
His mismatched eyes glistened in the firelight. Tears marred his face, and she wiped them away with her fingers. "I will," he promised.
"Good," She kissed his cheek. "And when I'm not here," she saw how his mouth parted with distraught, she pushed forward. "Jaime will be here."
"Really?" He sniffed.
She knew how much Tyrion missed Jaime ever since their brother moved to the capital. "Yes," She affirmed. "He'll be the Lord of Casterly Rock after Father, and he'll need to get more familiar with what that means."
"I can help him!" Tyrion's face lit up.
Cersei smiled, "He'd be so thankful for it," she told him. The words were on her tongue but she hesitated, her selfishness trying to push them away, but her love for her brother triumphed her own feelings. "Princess Elia too." She would not let Tyrion's happy reaction be any form of condemnation on her. "She is to be Jaime's wife and Lady of the Rock. She will be living here with us."
It was difficult to say, but she said them for Tyrion. Her own misgivings on the dornish princess were ebbing away. She found herself having little to say against Elia, anymore. The fact that she was kind and lovely to her youngest brother did her favors in Cersei's eyes.
The words only brought a new smile to Tyrion's face. His mismatched eyes were sparkling in conjured thoughts of having Elia here at the Rock permanently.
She would be lying to herself, if she said it did not sting, even slightly his reaction. Her wounded pride aside, it did give her comfort in knowing that when she left the Rock for Summerhall, Elia would be here to look after Tyrion.