Cersei Lannister wasn't always so bitter, never used to sport so much hate against the Starks…until one Lyanna Stark stepped into the picture. Rated M for swearing and adult themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, storyline or otherwise. All rights go to GRRM.

He is perfection. A man sent down from the seventh heaven…surely none can be as handsome, strong nor as true as him. Cersei sighs as she watches one Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen spar with her twin brother. Being five years his senior, the Prince spars lightly, landing soft blows rather than the ones he will soon land on the lords and knights in the tourney to come.

Jamie struggles, he is a good swordsman at twelve years of age, yet he can barely lift the heavy broadsword he'd chosen moments before.

To think Jamie was the greatest warrior in the world.

Cersei laughs slightly at that, and at her lady friends' stunned looks she waves them off. Rhaegar is a man, Jamie a mere boy, and she will soon wed the Dragon Prince when her father sends a raven back to Casterly Rock to inform that the King has accepted his offer. She knows he will; after all, she was the lioness of House Lannister.

She bursts into tears at her father's news. The King had rejected his offer, even humiliating the House in front of the entire small council. The Lannisters were simply servants, according to the King.

"He is mad." says Tywin, as he regards his daughter's tears with a chilling glare.

"Only a fool would call us servants. He will know his place. Now dry up your women's tears and have supper like a proper lady should."

She nods meekly, hurrying to her room to dry her tears. Yet they stain her eyes and she does her best before hurrying to the dining hall of Casterly Rock. Jamie notices, and that night he comforts her in the way he used to, by holding her in their once shared chamber.

"There there, sister. You do not need the Prince anyway…"

His soothing voice makes her drowsy, and she drifts off in his arms, just as she did when they were children.

Cersei looks up at Prince Rhaegar in awe, staring at his offered hand with a gaping mouth. It is his wedding, but he wants to dance with her? She accepts with a grin, feeling like her cheeks would explode from how wide her smile goes and how she cannot seem to stop.

Jamie eyes her angrily, jealously in his eyes; she is so caught up with the prince's charms that she does not even regard little Tyrion who is playing a game of knocking over every guest's drink. Prince Rhaegar was holding her in his arms, telling her how beautiful she is even as his wife dances with strangers just beside him. She doesn't care for anything else but the man in front of her. A marriage can't stand in her way, she was the lady of Casterly Rock; she always got what she wanted.

Everyone is silent. Hundreds and hundreds of lords and ladies sit on the stands, yet no one made a sound. The Stark girl is stunned, staring at the crown and Rhaegar's handsome face wordlessly while the crowd watches in shock.

"Thank you." A whisper, yet it sounded like a shout to her, and Cersei isn't sure what was worse: the fury brewing in her stomach, or Robert Baratheon's face that seems to mirror her onslaught of emotions.

He is dead, and Cersei does not even bat an eye. She resents him, for kidnapping the Stark girl and starting the rebellion, for risking his life, legacy, House and dynasty for one woman. She should be the one Rhaegar Targaryen carries off on his horse! Not the fucking Stark girl! He'd paid for his foolishness, and Cersei is to wed the new king, one who's going to be more loving, kind and handsome. She turns to her dresser without a second thought as she begins to dress for her wedding.

She wants to laugh. How wrong she was, thinking Robert would be better. No. He was worse. She tries desperately to lift his dead weight body off her so she can run away, preferable to Jamie. He'd always been there for her. It wasn't the fact that Robert had taken her with no regards to what she was feeling, what hurts most is the fact that he'd uttered the that dead bitch's name before spending himself inside her. She wants to kick this bastard in the balls and piss on that woman's grave at the famous crypt of Winterfell. That Stark whore had taken everything from her. Fuck the Starks.

She looks down at the baby squirming and crying against her chest…the sun shines off his golden fuzz of hair. This is her son, not the king's. Fuck the king.

"My son…" she weeps, "Joffery…know that mother loves you, no matter at what cost. I swear to you, I will protect you from the wolves and burn cities to the ground to keep you safe." Because he would be the only thing in the world that was hers to keep, love and cherish. They may have ripped out her claws, stomped on her fragile woman's heart and feelings, but they will know her wrath.

After all, the lion still has claws.

A/N Thanks for reading! :)