*peeks awkwardly around the corner* I...have got an update for you?

Thank you all who haven't given up on this story (and all new people who have joined the ride since the last chapter was posted). I'm sorry there hasn't been an update for so long, but you know, real life, lack of inspiration, final season of GoT (let's not talk about that last one) etc. I hope your patience is rewarded in this chapter and that it doesn't disappoint (like season 8 - we're still not talking about it, are we?)

I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistake.

She tugged at the golden lock with the hairbrush, willing it with all her might to grow.

And another. And another. And another. She pulled at them until her teeth gritted and she nearly cried out in pain and helplessness.

It was all to no avail. She still looked…ugly.

I can't face Rhaegar like this. She watched her reflection bite its lip in the looking glass, her eyes glazed with tears that threatened to fall. I can't face him like this.

The tournament was about to start; everyone was probably already there, waiting eagerly for the first round to begin. She had promised she would arrive in time, but moments passed by and she still couldn't separate her eyes from the unfamiliar face that stared back at her. The girl in the looking glass was pale and thin, her cheeks hollow, her eyes red from sleepless nights. There was no curtain of golden hair to hide behind; the whole world could bear witness to her weakness.

Father was probably counting last heartbeats before he would send someone to bring her to him, by what was left of her hair if they had to. Jaime was probably too excited to even notice she was not there. Despite having constantly complained about how he couldn't take part in the tournament, he had barely been able to contain his eagerness that morning while they'd been breaking their fast. He'd stopped talking about how he would have liked to compete only after Father had coldly warned him not to be ridiculous; he had duty to House Lannister and he would never become a knight of Kingsguard. There had been no mention of Ashara Dayne, at least not out loud, but her name had lingered between the Lannister twins like an axe above their necks, about to take one life and separate them forever. Cersei had been relieved when Father had dismissed them, but the relief had soon been replaced with dread when she had realized all those lords who had come to swear loyalty to Rhaegar – and their daughters, who had come to steal him from her – would see her there, looking more like a kitchen boy than the future Queen. She would be mocked and laughed at, however silently (because no-one would dare offend Father openly). She couldn't even bear to think about the possibility of Rhaegar turning away from her; she might survive everything else, but his disgust would shatter her.

She had long since come to a decision, even if she hadn't been aware of it until then.

She stood up and stormed out of the room, only vaguely aware of the two guards Father had tasked with accompanying her to the tournament calling after her as she rushed downstairs, accompanied by the sound of shoes and boots clacking against the stone floor. Desperate to run away, she stumbled at each step, using the walls of the Tower to keep her from falling every time she lost her balance. For the first time in her life, she was glad to be wearing a dress instead of armour; even though the crimson skirts were often in the way and constantly threatened to trip her, at least the dress was light compared to the armour the guards were wearing. It slowed them down, enough for her to escape their sight, even if she was rushing through the corridors without any idea where she was heading.

If she wasn't in that hectic state of mind, maybe she would have heard the sound of steps coming towards her. She wouldn't have blindly turned around the corner and collided with a person she realized in shock was Queen Rhaella.

"You-Your-Queen Mother." She curtsied quickly, her head bowed low – the only way she could hide her flushed cheeks. As terror and shame seized her, she felt like every bone in her body was trembling in the rhythm of her frenzied heartbeat. "I-I apologize, I…I didn't mean…"

"It's alright." The queen interrupted her line of unfinished sentences softly. "We are unharmed."

Cersei raised her head only enough so she could look at the queen through her eyelashes and saw Prince Viserys in her arms. The boy was turned away from her, clearly scared by her sudden appearance. For a moment, what was left of her confidence sank even lower, but then she remembered Queen Rhaella's words about her younger son's fear of nearly everyone. If anything, he didn't turn away from her because of how she looked now; he would have shied away from her all the same if she was still beautiful. The notion was comforting in a strange kind of way; Cersei took what she could get.

"I…" She cleared her throat, which allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts, and raised her head a little more. Seeing two knights of Kingsguard and two maids standing behind Queen Rhaella made her swallow hard, but somehow she found a way to force proper words out of her mouth. "I hope I find you and Prince Viserys in good health."

"We are in perfect health, thanks be to the gods." Queen Rhaella replied as she ruffled the boy's silver hair gently. Her violet eyes, however, remained fixed on Cersei. "Do we find you in poor health, Lady Cersei? Why aren't you at the tournament?"

For a moment, she considered lying and saying she indeed wasn't feeling well; it would be a perfect explanation of her absence from the tournament. However, now that she was finally face to face with the queen again, she couldn't afford to be sent away under the excuse of endangering the queen and the prince's health. She craved answers, however terrifying they might be, and she couldn't bring herself to leave Queen Rhaella's presence without getting them.

But if she couldn't use illness as an excuse, what answer could she give to the queen?

In the lack of an alternative convincing lie, all she had left to say was the truth.

"I can't go." Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft only Queen Rhaella could hear it. She hated how feeble and bitter her voice sounded, but she couldn't stop either emotion from pouring into it. "Not…not looking like this."

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She bit her lip angrily, punishing it for allowing them to escape. Why had she said anything? Why had she allowed Queen Rhaella to see her weak – again? What was it about the queen that made Cersei share things with her she would never share with anyone else?

"Well, if you have no other plan in mind, we would be happy if you joined us."

Cersei raised her eyes to the queen's sharply, torn between disbelief and gratitude. Her tongue seemed to tangle into knots every time she opened her mouth to say something, to thank the queen or to wonder why she didn't judge her for being weak, she couldn't tell.

"Milady!" A breathless call startled both women.

Cersei swallowed hard as she turned to face one of the guards she'd left behind in the Tower of the Hand. She'd lost her chance to get away; they feared Father too much to be swayed by her pleads to let her stay in the Red Keep.

"Queen Mother." The guard bowed at the waist at Queen Rhaella before turning to Cersei, his features filled with urgency. "Milady, you are expected at the tournament. Your father…"

"You may tell Lord Lannister I have asked of Lady Cersei to keep me and the prince company." Queen Rhaella interrupted him firmly, with an air of authority so definite Cersei could barely believe her own eyes and ears. Was this the same woman who had stood silently with her eyes downcast as King Aerys threatened her life on the day of Cersei's arrival to King's Landing?

The guard opened his mouth as if to protest, but then thought better of it.

"I will let Lord Lannister know." He said as he bowed again. His posture might be nothing but respectful, but his tone seemed to say 'Risking his displeasure is on your heads'.

As she watched him set off in the direction he'd come from, Cersei did her best to convince herself not to run after him. Father surely hadn't forgotten her last act of disobedience, though he had yet to discipline her for it; challenging his patience further was hardly a wise course of action. Part of her still worried about what he might take away from her as punishment for her defiance upon his return to the capital; it was impossible for her not to feel uneasy, knowing what he was capable of.

The other part of her remained steadfast in her decision not to let him know that. She was aware that she had crossed a line with him and she had to stay on this side if she wanted to ever be free of his shadow.

"I'm afraid you are stuck with us now." Queen Rhaella's voice snapped her out of her musings, drawing her attention back to the silver-haired woman.

"Thank you, Queen Mother." She curtsied with more genuine respect and gratitude than ever before in her life, then looked the woman in the eye to let her know she truly meant every word. "For your understanding and help."

"You are welcome." Queen Rhaella acknowledged her words with a nod, then beckoned for her to head in the direction she'd come from. "Come. It is too beautiful a day to be wasted inside."

Now that she was safe from public humiliation, Cersei felt inclined to agree. She fell into step next to Queen Mother, careful not to venture too close to the prince in her arms. Surprisingly, it was a gesture done for his sake, not hers. Perhaps, if she didn't pressure him, he might come to realize she wasn't dangerous on his own.

Soon enough, they emerged from the shades of the Red Keep into a garden bathed in sunlight. Green of trees and grass, red of the castle walls, blue of the sky and gold of the sun collided fiercely, like knights in the tournament must have been doing in that same moment. It was just a little too warm for Cersei's taste; she sank down into the shade of a tree next to Queen Rhaella all too easily after the queen's maids had laid a blanket onto the grass for them to sit on. Unlike the women, the knights in white remained standing in the sun to watch over them. None of them was Ser Arthur or Ser Barristan, her twin's tutor; she guessed they were at the tournament, with the king.

Determined not to think about Rhaegar, Cersei let her gaze rest absently on his little brother. Queen Rhaella had lowered him to the ground gently and kept a steadying hand on him as he tried to keep his balance. The young prince made one uncertain step, then momentarily lost his footing, but she was there to prevent him from falling. He tried again, this time managing a few steps before grabbing her hand with his tiny ones to keep himself steady. He was entirely occupied with his struggle and didn't notice Cersei watching him.

However, the child she was watching and the child she was seeing were not the same. The child in her mind's eye was golden-haired, short and ugly, with mismatched eyes. The child she'd hated since the moment he'd torn Mother apart to come into the world.

Before Mother's death, she wondered, had she looked forward to having another sibling? Had she hoped for a sister or another brother? Had she relished in the thought of being revered, the greatest hero in someone's eyes?

In eyes of a child whose older brother paid little attention to him – just as he did to her?

Could Prince Viserys be the perfect little sibling she should have had, beautiful like her, innocent of any crime, even if he didn't look anything like a Lannister?

Sometimes, Words she couldn't quite place made way through her mind, but by the time she realized where that line of thought would lead, it was too late to turn back, I would catch myself thinking your twins were mine, even if they didn't look like me.

One thought led to another. Thanks to her, I was given time to recover.

And another. And our nights together? Do you remember them, Joanna?

"Queen Mother?" She heard herself saying, her voice sounding like a stranger's to her own ears.

A smile was still playing on Queen Rhaella's lips when she raised her head to look at her, but as soon as their eyes met, Queen Mother's expression turned sombre, mirroring solemnity that coloured Cersei's voice. Her silver eyebrows rose inquiringly, but she didn't speak, instead waiting for Cersei to muster the nerve to continue.

Torn between the desire for answers and fear of what they might entail, she struggled to collect her thoughts, let alone convey them. "Could we…" She cleared her throat nervously, "Could we speak in private?"

Surprise sparked in Queen Rhaella's violet eyes, but after a moment of silence, she nodded. She lifted the young prince off the ground and placed him on her lap, then gestured to the maids to leave them be. The women stood up and obeyed her command without a word, but Cersei could feel their gazes on her and the queen even as they joined the Kingsguard in the sun. Letting out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, she reminded herself to keep her voice down; the subject she wanted to discuss was for Queen Rhaella's ears only.

"I…" Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced it out, along with words. "In Duskendale…shortly before he died…King Aerys had asked to see me."

When she didn't continue immediately, Queen Rhaella closed her eyes and sighed.

"Whatever he said to you, you mustn't take it to heart." She said reassuringly as her kind gaze came to rest on Cersei again. "You have done nothing wrong. His behaviour towards you was uncivil for reasons that have nothing to do with you."

Cersei took a deep breath. She really didn't want to cause unnecessary pain to either herself or Queen Rhaella, but she had to know the truth.

"On the contrary, Queen Mother." Her voice turned into whisper. "He was kind to me that last time. Because…" She cleared her throat once more and forced herself to utter the words. "Because he thought I was Joanna."

Startled, the silver-haired woman inhaled sharply. Cersei felt her own breath catch again; what did Queen Mother think King Aerys had said to her?

"He…he told me…" Words tumbled from her lips clumsily; her dry mouth only hindered her further, but she had to know, she had to. "He mentioned they had spent nights together. He said…he hoped Jaime and I were his children. He…" She couldn't even summon the rest of his words to memory, but it didn't even matter. Only one thing did. "It…It's not true, is it?"

To her surprise, Queen Rhaella's features relaxed, as if she was relieved. Her lips even curled into a smile.

"Your mother never shared his bed." The reassurance in her voice was firm and genuine. "He only believed she had." Suddenly, the smile vanished from her face, as if she was reminded of unpleasant memories. "Until the very end, luckily for us all."

Cersei tried to make sense of her words, but kept feeling like she only knew bits of the story, still blind to the whole truth. Her need for answers was physically painful, but she couldn't shake it off any more than she would have been able to shake off an aching limb. She had to know, to be certain of who Mother had been – and who she was.

"I thought…" She breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. "I thought her intention had been to…distract him, while you…recovered."

Queen Rhaella pulled Prince Viserys closer against her chest instantly, as if even the briefest mention of the fate of her other children could harm him and her embrace was armour that would protect him. Her gaze came to rest on the top of his silver head, even as she continued to speak to Cersei.

"That was her intention." She nodded almost absently. "But she didn't do it herself."

Her answer made Cersei no less confused. How could have King Aerys believed Mother had shared his bed if she had not? How could have he not realized it wasn't her?

"But how…" There were just too many questions for her to decide which to ask first; her voice helplessly drifted off into silence.

After a few moments, Queen Rhaella locked eyes with her again.

"Your mother had a bastard sister, Lynora, daughter of your grandfather Jason and a serving girl." She said in a manner of a storyteller, ruffling Prince Viserys' silver hair gently as she talked. "I doubt you know of her. She died before you were born, I think."

Cersei shrugged her shoulders; she indeed knew nothing of the woman. She had been a bastard, hardly someone worth mentioning when there had been many much more famous trueborn Lannisters.

"I didn't even know of her existence until Joanna brought her to King's Landing after…" Queen Rhaella visibly shivered, despite the warmth of the day. "…Until she brought her here with an idea that could have got them, and even your father, killed if Aerys had learned of it."

Despite knowing Mother's plan had worked, Cersei swallowed hard. How far Mother was willing to go for her friend. For someone who wasn't family, and yet…

"It wasn't hard for Joanna to convince Aerys of something he wanted to believe anyway." Queen Rhaella said with an indifferent shrug. "He wanted to hear she loved him and not your father, so he didn't question the woman who met him at night – Lynora."

"But how didn't he realize it was not Mother?" Cersei asked in disbelief.

Queen Mother smiled nostalgically.

"When I first saw Joanna and Lynora standing next to one another, I couldn't tell them apart – and I had known Joanna for years. They were so alike."

Like twins. Flashed through Cersei's mind. But not like me and Jaime. We are different – closer.

(Are we not?)

"With your father's help, Lynora met Aerys pretending to be Joanna and continued to do so even after your mother had gone back to Casterly Rock." Queen Rhaella's smile gradually faltered as she spoke, until her eyes darkened in sorrow that made the previous spark of joy seem like it had never been there at all. "I don't even know how she managed to keep up the pretence for as long as she did."

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, as if cleansing her mind from painful memories. "I am ashamed to say I never spared a moment to ask her. I was just relieved someone else was the object of Aerys' attention and never thought about the danger she found herself every time he went to her."

After a few moments of processing Queen Mother's words, Cersei slowly nodded. She understood why that story had been kept secret during King Aerys' reign. How would he have reacted if he'd learned he'd been bedding a bastard girl posing as the woman he'd lusted after? He would surely have punished Father for his part in the plot, which would have cost Cersei any chance to be wed to Rhaegar – if it wouldn't have cost them all their heads. She let out a deep sigh of relief; they were as much as out of reach of King Aerys now as he was out of theirs. They were safe.

"But didn't King Aerys realize the truth when my mother returned to the capital?" She asked with a lump in her throat, thinking of her own first visit to King's Landing, less than a year before Mother's death.

Queen Rhaella shook her head dispiritedly.

"Lynora didn't die in King's Landing." She replied quietly, again pulling the prince closer against her chest instinctively. "A few moons prior to her death, she went back to Casterly Rock. I only learned she had died when Joanna told me so in person, years later. Fever took her, poor woman."

Cersei couldn't find it in herself to grieve for a woman she had never met, so she remained silent and contemplated all she'd heard. It was a relief to know her fears had been misplaced, but it was still somewhat hard for her to believe Mother had risked Father, her House and her own position in the Realm, all for a friend. Great Houses knew no friendships, only alliances or enmity. Friendships were a source of vulnerability, as her experience with Melara had shown.

But Ser Arthur is Rhaegar's strength – just as Mother was Queen Rhaella's. The thought crossed her mind. Maybe it depends on the friend.

"You were lucky to have her as a friend." She said absently, realizing a heartbeat too late her words could easily be interpreted as discourteous, and hurriedly tried to correct herself. "I mean, she was lucky to have you as a friend too, but…" She blinked uninvited tears away and steeled herself against the longing inside. "I wish…I wish she was here."

Queen Rhaella nodded compassionately. "I know. Her absence has cost you most. Your father…" She paused briefly, as if considering the dangers of possibly speaking ill of Tywin Lannister, but then continued gently: "I am sure he has tried his best, but absence of a mother's love in her children's life leaves a mark."

Cersei could do little else but nod in agreement, though she barely kept what was really on her mind to herself: It's even worse now. I miss her every day, but I know she doesn't miss me. I wish I could still believe that she misses us, that she cares about us.

"I could never replace Joanna in your life." Queen Rhaella's fingers wrapped around hers gently, making her raise her head. Queen Mother's gaze was just as kind and reassuring as her touch, melting off Cersei's fury at the audacity of such a suggestion. "But I want you to know that if you ever need to talk to someone – to a woman – about anything, you can always come to me."

Even though she was still somewhat distraught, Cersei couldn't help smiling. She was genuinely touched by Queen Rhaella's benevolence and her gratefulness could be heard when she said: "Thank you, for being so kind to me."

Though her expression remained solemn, Queen Rhaella's eyes lit up, as if a candle had been lit in them to chase away the shadows.

"Let us not speak of death anymore." She said softly, gesturing to the maids to join them again. "You can tell me more about your brother. I have not seen much of him since he arrived to the capital, but he seems a fine young man."

Talking about Jaime came easily to Cersei, though she had to tread carefully not to say too much on some matters. She kept his less than perfect skills and his promise to her to herself and praised his talent with a sword, his loyalty and devotion to her as his twin (though only in the form of love a brother felt for a sister) and, surprisingly, his kindness and love for Tyrion. It was strange to speak of anything involving Tyrion in a positive light, but she kept reminding herself of the decision she had made regarding him on her last night in Casterly Rock and it was enough to make her words about him sound caring. Queen Rhaella didn't seem to notice anything amiss – or she simply chose not to make remarks. She never interrupted her and only occasionally asked questions when Cersei paused to take a breath. She was a good listener; Cersei felt like she was indeed interested in what she was saying. They also spoke of their favourite fabrics, colours, books, songs; Queen Rhaella even promised to teach her the words of her favourite song – Flowers of spring – someday and Cersei found she looked forward to it.

Morning seemed to have flown by in a few heartbeats; sometime after midday, Queen Rhaella invited her to her chambers to escape the growing warmth of the day and break their fast. Cersei wouldn't refuse even if she could; all her worries were forgotten as she talked spiritedly to the queen, with enthusiasm she hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity.

As they ate, she stole a few glances at the queen and the prince sitting on her lap and realized she was smiling as she watched them play with food. With a teasing spark in her eyes, Queen Rhaella made as if to eat a piece of apple, but when Prince Viserys reached out towards her and let out a soft whine, she paused for a moment, as if reconsidering her decision, and then put the piece of fruit gently into his mouth with a loving smile. The prince hummed contently, but soon whined for another piece, which Queen Mother provided without any tricks. Cersei couldn't remember if she had ever sat at a table where everyone was so relaxed, so happy. There was no tension in the air, no need to choose one's words carefully. She caught herself wishing she could break her fast with the queen and the prince every day, instead of being subjugated to Father's judging stares and suffocating silences. She seemed to have ceased to exist for him after the events in Duskendale (or maybe after she had belied him upon his return to King's Landing). He occasionally spoke to Jaime, but always curtly and without an ounce of affection Queen Rhaella was showering her younger son in front of Cersei's eyes.

I wish they were my family. She thought as she watched the mother and the son, longing for love Mother had had no time to give her and Father was incapable of giving. I wish it was them, me and Jaime – and Mother. And if she was here, then maybe…maybe I would even let Tyrion be with us too. Maybe.

She was snapped out of her ponderings of what could never be by the sound of door opening – and froze at the sight of Rhaegar staring at her in unmasked shock, as if he hadn't even in his wildest dreams imagined he might find her there.

"Rhaegar." Queen Rhaella didn't sound surprised in the slightest to see him. She rose to her feet with Prince Viserys in her arms and curtsied with a welcoming smile, seemingly unaware of the tension that had filled the room the moment her eldest son had entered it.

It was only then Cersei remembered she should do the same. Her bones felt like stone as she stood up in silence, her body repeating long since learned movements completely mechanically. Unable to bear the king's shaken gaze, she lowered her own and stared at her feet, wishing she could disappear into the wall behind her.

He saw me looking like this. How will he ever love me now?

"Will you join us?" Queen Rhaella's voice reached her ears. Was it just her inability to hear anything clearly beneath the sound of her racing heartbeat or had Queen Mother's voice become significantly more serious? "There is plenty of food left."

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Rhaegar answered.

"I will not." His voice sounded breathless to Cersei, but she didn't dare risk meeting his eyes by raising her head to check. "I…Forgive me for disturbing you."

"You are not disturbing us, of course." His mother replied, brushing off his apology gently. "Lady Lannister has been keeping me and Viserys company. I have sent a guard to notify the Hand of her whereabouts."

"I…" Rhaegar paused again, still clearly stunned and at a loss for words. "Good. She was safe with you. That's all that matters."

Cersei couldn't guess what he meant. Had he said that because it was expected of him…or because he genuinely cared about her wellbeing?

"Please, continue with your meal." His voice now sounded firmer, steadier. "I will see you at the feast tonight."

It was only when she could no longer hear the sound of his steps that Cersei let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Her heart thundered inside her chest and her skin was covered in gooseflesh, despite the warmth. She more collapsed than sat back onto the chair, struggling to regain her composure.

Had he meant he wanted her to be at the feast as well? Did he want to see her there – despite her appearance? Or had it been just a mere courtesy on his part?

"Lady Cersei?"

Even as she looked at Queen Rhaella, it took a few moments for her to actually see the silver-haired woman. All her senses seemed blurred; she didn't trust herself to speak.

"If you want to leave now, I won't stop you." Queen Mother said softly, clearly aware of the way the encounter with Rhaegar after so much time had affected her. "We will see each other at the feast – if you feel well enough to attend it."

She nodded without even knowing fully what she was agreeing with and rose to her shaky feet again. After curtsying stiffly, she let her quivering legs carry her away, leaning absently on the walls with her hands to keep herself steady as she went. She had no idea where she was going, too lost in her thoughts; she was only snapped out of her reverie when she nearly ran into Father and Jaime after making a turn left in one of the corridors.

"Cersei." Her twin rushed to her side immediately, sensing her distress.

She leaned on him, clenching her fists so he wouldn't notice her hands were shaking. She refused to look at Father, who was surely scowling at her display of weakness and need for support.

"How was the tournament?" The question was meant to distract Jaime, as she was unwilling to answer his or Father's questions. They didn't need to know what had shaken her so.

"Are you alright?" Her twin ignored her question like she had never asked it. She had no doubts he had intended to retell every round to her to the tinniest detail, but seeing her like this had made him forget there had even been a tournament. "Should we send for the Grandmaester?"

"No." She shook her head adamantly; the last thing she wanted was to provide the Grandmaester Pycelle with an excuse to touch her again. She just needed to return to her chambers and lie down before her body betrayed her. "It must be the heat. A bit of rest and I will be fine."

Jaime's emerald eyes narrowed doubtingly. "Are you certain?"

If she felt more like herself, she would be angry with him for questioning her.

"Yes." She nodded; her voice sounded exhausted even to her own ears.

She was about to pull him by the hand to make him follow her, but was startled into motionless when Father spoke.

"How was your day with Queen Mother?"

Her gaze clashed with his without her control. She knew there was an ulterior motive behind his unexpected curiosity and refused to play by his rules.

"It was…good." She shrugged her shoulders indifferently, determined to give him the briefest description she could think of. "We talked and she invited me to share a meal with her. I was just on my way back to my chambers."

She didn't like the calculating spark that lit up his green eyes, like a blade bathed in sunlight.

"Did you see the king?" He asked with no emotion in his voice, always in almost perfect control of his reactions.

There was no point in lying. He knew.

"Yes." She nodded, sensing Jaime's grasp on her tightening when she'd uttered the word. She nearly rolled her eyes; to her regret, his jealousy was unwarranted. "Only for a few moments."

Her answer inspired a reaction, a displeased frown. She recoiled uneasily under his piercing gaze, fighting to keep her eyes on his.

"May I be excused?" She asked as evenly as she could manage, trying to imitate his level of control. "I would like to rest before the feast tonight."

His eyes widened slightly, as if he was caught off guard by her decision to attend the feast. She was slightly surprised herself, with the fear of mockery and sneers from other highborn girls lingering in the back of her mind, but there and then, she was determined to appear before them – before Rhaegar – at the feast. She would watch them, see who would laugh at her and remember, so she could one day pay her debts.

Having nothing more to say, Father walked past her and Jaime as if they weren't even there. They followed him in silence, not wanting to disturb the uneasy peace lingering between them and him. After his back disappeared behind the door of his study, the two of them strode further down the corridor soundlessly until they reached the door of Cersei's chambers. The guard standing there went to push it open for them, but just as he reached for the doorknob, the door opened, revealing Lady Serala.

"My lady, my lord." She curtsied swiftly before stretching her hand out towards Cersei, a letter lying on her palm. "This arrived for you while you were…absent, my lady."

Is it from Rhaegar? Cersei's mind jumped to the most desirable conclusion at once, only to be restrained by her logic. It can't be. If he had sent me something, he wouldn't have reacted as he did when he saw me.

She didn't really have the strength or the will to bother with reading the letter, but she did need a distraction, so she unravelled the piece of parchment and went through its contents quickly. Even without paying too close attention, she gathered it depicted what had been happening back home in the last few weeks…and was signed Jaime.

"What's this?" She turned on her heel to face her twin.

He frowned at her accusing tone. "I would say it's a letter." He quipped sarcastically. "I don't know what it says, as you didn't let me finish."

She let out a hiss through her nostrils; by the gods, it took him ages to read anything.

"It's a letter from Casterly Rock, signed with your name." She nearly rubbed the letter into his face literally, but managed to restrain herself and only pointed at his name written on the parchment.

The irritation in his features turned into confusion. "I didn't write that."

Her eyes narrowed at him, trying to catch him in a lie, but he seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Who did then?" She demanded sharply, silently cursing the fraud who dared use her bond with her twin in this violating way. She would find them and make them regret even using the letters Jaime's name was made of.

His brow furrowed as he contemplated the identity of the person who had written the letter. A few moments passed in silence, but then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in awe as a realization dawned on him.

"I think…" He blinked in disbelief, as if struggling with what his mind was telling him. "I think Tyrion did."

Of all people he could have named, Tyrion would have to be the last one Cersei would have thought of. "Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed disdainfully. "He is only four. He can't even read."

To her displeasure, his gaze sharpened, turning into a cross glare.

"He can, actually." He countered firmly, with a haughty stance she didn't appreciate. "He is quite smart. Even you couldn't read at his age."

She very nearly slapped him there and then and she had never raised a hand to him before. How dare he rub the fact the little beast was better at something than her in her face?

A disgusting thought crossed her mind. Since she had gone to the capital, she had been receiving letters from Casterly Rock written in the same chaotic handwriting she was looking at now. She had believed it was Jaime's, but what if…

"So, all this time since I left Casterly Rock," The words tasted so bitter in her mouth she had to spit them out, lest she be poisoned by them, "I have been receiving letters from him, not from you?"

Jaime nodded with eagerness that infuriated her.

"I was too angry with you for leaving to read your letters." His posture tensed; he still hadn't forgiven her for that perceived betrayal. "I didn't believe Tyrion when he told me he wrote to you, but it seems I underestimated him. He even signed the letters with my name, probably because he thought you were more likely to reply to me than to him."

Cersei felt rage bubbling beneath. She clenched her fists, reminding herself it wasn't befitting of a lady to stoop down to violence.

"Don't sound so impressed!" She hissed furiously, struggling to keep her voice down. "He is a fraud! What if I have written…" She bit her tongue, catching herself in the nick of time, "Something he shouldn't have read?"

Jaime, as always, was blind to the danger. "He meant no harm, Cersei." His attempt to soothe her only riled her up more. "He just wanted to…"

"I don't care what he wanted!" She cut him off loudly, not caring they could be overheard. "He invaded my privacy – our privacy – just like he'd invaded our lives the day he was born!"

Jaime's eyes darkened. He was glaring at her again, this time with pure and utter contempt that had never been directed at her before.

"I will write an answer to him before the feast." His voice was cold, cold and cutting. "I will tell him not to write to you anymore. He will be better off in ignorance on his sister's sentiments towards him. It would be for the best if he forgot you even existed."

Maggy's words started echoing within her mind even before he finished, still as ominous as they had been since they had been uttered: And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.

She couldn't allow it to come to pass. She wouldn't.

"No." She said unyieldingly, letting every bit of her determination pour into the words. "You will write no letter."

Her command clearly took him aback, but she continued before he could speak.

"This is between me and him." She raised the letter between them, emphasising her meaning. "You stay out of it."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't let him. "I mean it, Jaime." Her determination was unwavering. "Yes, my bond with Tyrion is difficult at best, but it is what it is. I don't want you to meddle."

"He is my brother too." He countered snappily. "I will meddle if I think you will hurt him." And I think you will. Remained unspoken.

Cersei was not used to defiance from him. He was the only one she could count on to do as she said, without any questions asked. It seemed their bond was changing too. She was just about to accuse him of ruining everything they had, but then realized what his answer would be.

You started ruining it when you chose the prince over me.

And she wasn't sure he would be wrong.

Having no other choice at the moment, she opted to compromise, however grudgingly.

"I promise I will not hurt him." She said, keeping her eyes fixed on his. He had to believe her. "Do you promise not to meddle?"

He stared at her in bewilderment for a few silent moments, unable to accept what he had heard. Then he nodded slowly, as if a part of him would rather shake his head and deny her the promise.

The sight of him became unbearable.

She turned on her heel and slammed the door into his face before he could say anything else.

"Don't let him in." She said curtly to Lady Serala, who was busy staring intently at the needlework in her hands. She had obviously heard everything, but Cersei didn't have the patience even to threaten her to keep the contents of her and Jaime's argument to herself. The woman knew better than to cross her. "Don't let anyone in."

Without a second glance in the red-haired woman's direction, she walked over to the bed and threw herself on it, trying to trick her mind into resting along with her body.

If only she could sleep through this day, this century. If only she could wake up to another world, one where her mother would be by her side, her father would appreciate her and her king would love her.

You could have chosen to join your mother. If you had, you wouldn't care about the rest.

She rolled her eyes behind closed eyelids. Trust her unwanted companion to speak up when her taunts were the last thing she needed.

As for other things you wouldn't care about, I want an explanation regarding the fate you think awaits you at the hands of a younger sibling.

And trust her to inquire about things no-one knew and shouldn't know about.

You live inside my mind. She pointed out drily, cross that her secrets were no longer just her own. Hosting the spirit of Queen Visenya definitely wasn't as glorious as she had thought it would be. In all truth, she was getting tired of it – only to remember she was stuck in this arrangement for life. Can't you find that out on your own?

Do you know how many thoughts and memories you have? Visenya answered in equally sardonic tone. Your mind is like an endless hallway with thousands of doors on each side. You would be dead before I found the memory I want.

Cersei looked for a retort for a few moments, but found none. Suddenly, exhaustion overwhelmed her and made her rage with Visenya, with Jaime, with Tyrion, with Rhaegar simply melt off. Too tired to argue, she felt her defences fall down and thoughts start to flow.

I went to see a woman during the king's visit to Casterly Rock last year to learn if I would marry the prince. She said I would wed the king, be Queen for a time and then cast down by another. She sighed heavily, but that was the most of flare she could summon. If the younger queen from the prophecy appeared then and there and tried to strike her, she wasn't sure she would even have the strength to raise a hand to defend herself. She said the three children I would have would die before me and that the valonqar would take everything I hold dear.

Visenya didn't respond right away, probably pondering the prophecy.

Who was this woman? She said at last, not offering any opinion on what Cersei had told her.

Cersei might have refused to answer until the queen shared her thoughts with her – if the tiredness in her very bones wasn't weighing her down and robbing her of any strength of will.

She is known as Maggy the Frog in Westerlands, but it's said she's come from Essos with her husband years ago. She shrugged her shoulders absently, though Visenya couldn't see it. I don't know her real name.

Maggy? Visenya asked straightaway. Or maegi?

Cersei couldn't tell, as she was unfamiliar with the second pronunciation of the word. What does maegi mean?

It is an old name for sorceresses who practice bloodmagic. They are very rare in Essos and even rarer in Westeros.

Upon hearing those words, Cersei swallowed hard. She did drink my blood before she told me my future.

Then I would advise you not to dismiss her words. The gravity of Visenya's words was unnerving; she wasn't jesting. Every practice of bloodmagic takes a great deal of a maegi's power. She wouldn't have foretold you your future for no reason.

Cersei shivered instinctively. She didn't want to tell us our futures at first, She admitted with a lump in her throat, Only after I threatened her. Maybe she just wanted to have revenge on me.

Visenya made no remark on her words, but she did have more to say. Us? Who was with you?

One of my…companions. Cersei couldn't bring herself to call Melara a friend. The witch told her she would die the same day. And she did.

She didn't want to say more, but of course, Visenya had to ask: How?

Cersei's heart started pounding wildly inside her chest. Being on the brink of admitting the true nature of her relationship with Jaime to anyone (even if it was the voice no-one but her could hear) felt beyond strange. On the other hand, Visenya would hardly judge her; if there was anyone she could share that secret with without fear, it was someone who bore the name Targaryen.

I forbade her to go anywhere near Jaime. She threatened to tell everyone we were… She took a deep breath, trying to think of a good way to explain it. I love my brother the same way you love yours.

I disagree. Visenya countered immediately, sounding so unimpressed with her confession and completely unappreciative of the effort it had taken for her to divulge it. My love for Aegon was lasting and steadfast. If the late king had agreed to a betrothal between you and the prince, you wouldn't have looked back twice.

The words felt like a slap, leaving Cersei breathless and stunned for a few moments. No-one had ever belittled her relationship with Jaime like this; it was always admired, never scorned.

(Another reason she was caught on the wrong foot was because she knew Visenya was right. She would have left Jaime for Rhaegar – she had.)

So, the girl found out about you and your brother – what happened next?

She breathed in and out twice, until she felt confident enough to continue. She threatened to tell everyone about me and Jaime if I didn't let her have him. She believed Jaime only saw me as a sister and that the only reason she had never seen him with another girl was because I scared every girl away from him because I was jealous.

I think she believed only the parts that suited her. Visenya observed derisively. So she could reconcile her own attraction to your brother and disgust with his feelings for you.

Cersei hadn't thought of that explanation before, but it certainly made sense.

We started arguing and pushing one another as we walked back…She remembered the hits taken and delivered, threats uttered, the terror in Melara's eyes as she lost her balance and fell into the blackness. And we didn't look where we were going and…she fell into a well.

The silence lingered between them, but Visenya didn't interrupt it, as if determined to make Cersei finish the story.

Can you take responsibility for his death? The queen of old had asked her once. Can you admit to the world and to yourself that you did it? Can you face the consequences?

Pain spread through her hands as her nails pierced the skin of her palms. It hurt – but she bore it. I can.

I let her drown. She admitted emotionlessly, as if she had never been there, listening to Melara's pleads. She wanted something of mine and her knowledge posed a danger to me and my family. I listened to her beg and scream for help – until she didn't beg anymore.

Air filled her lungs as she breathed in, so loudly (or so it seemed to her) she feared she might miss Visenya's answer. She held her breath for as long as she could, but the need to exhale overwhelmed her all too soon. With the exhale, the indifference began wearing off her and Melara's warning started echoing in her mind again, sounding like a promise for vengeance.

You said the maegi wouldn't have foretold my future for no reason. She said, out of curiosity just as much as out of need for a distraction. She might have wanted to punish me for threatening her, but why did she waste her powers on Melara?

Silence rose between them once again, and lasted far too long for Cersei's liking. She considered reaching out to Visenya so she could search her thoughts for answers, but even if she knew where to start looking, intruding on the dragonqueen like that seemed like a bad idea. Visenya would surely turn against her for that and the last thing she needed was an enemy inside her own mind.

The girl was the first one to die at your hand. Visenya said at last, seemingly unaware of her less than honourable contemplations. If you hadn't learned to be merciless then, maybe you would have hesitated to kill that boy in Duskendale and then…maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation at all.

Cersei wasn't sure she understood. You are saying I was meant to kill Melara to learn how to be merciless, so I could…survive something worse?

As I have said, The dragonqueen said in a sensible tone, the maegi wouldn't have wasted her strength to use bloodmagic for no reason. The girl had a part to play, as do you, even if you don't know what it is.

I know what it is. Cersei bit back sharply. I am meant to be Queen.

Yes, but what kind of Queen?

She thought she had an answer to that, until the moment she realized she didn't.

She had never thought about it, not clearly. What kind of Queen did she want to be? Kind and gentle, beloved by all, like Queen Alysanne? Unyielding and determined like Rhaenyra? Fierce and strong like Visenya?

Like all of them, all at once? Or Queen like none before her?

I need to become Queen first. She said at last; she would think of an answer to Visenya's question some other time. And I can't do that if I don't speak to Rhaegar. I will go to him after the feast and I will not leave until he explains why he has been avoiding me.

He is the king. Visenya countered evenly. You can't command him.

That was true. But she had something that might draw him in, like it had that night in Casterly Rock, the only time she had seen him as utterly absorbed by her as he'd been today.

No, I can't. She agreed as numbness overwhelmed her. But I can make him command me to stay.

When he returned to his chambers, still shocked and out of breath, his instincts instantly made him reach for the harp, the one source of peace he could always count on to soothe his darkest moods. Music would help him calm down. Music would drive her away.

When he raised the instrument, his trembling hands nearly dropped it.

When he touched the wires, they produced unsteady, frustrated tunes that were fighting an invisible force. Beneath his quivering fingers, tones clashed and collided like knights had done that morning, clenching of teeth instead of a bird's song, screeching of iron against iron instead of a breeze whispering.

I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.

He had not been prepared to face her; the sight of her – still lovely, despite what she might think about her appearance – had caught him entirely off guard. In that moment, he had been unable to speak or even breathe, his mind captivated by her so completely there had been room for nothing else, not for reason, not for the warnings of his visions, for anything but the desire to walk over to her and kiss her hand tenderly, to breathe in the scent of her skin, to run his fingers through her golden hair which he knew deep down would grow long and beautiful again, because he had seen it in his dreams…

How foolish he'd acted; how careless he'd been.

How could he keep her close without raising her hopes? How could he keep her at a distance without making her hate him?

How could he change what he'd seen in his dreams?

Helplessness weighed upon him like he was drowning with his wrists and ankles bound with iron chains. He played and played, but the melody never pacified, never found a stable pace his heartbeat could follow. The more he fought to find peace, the more it eluded him, until he let his emotions loose and the music became a wild tangle of fear, longing, hope and loss. It went on and on, for moments, hours, ages.

Until a familiar voice called: "Rhaegar?"

The bitter melody ended abruptly; at the same moment, he became aware of the ache that flooded his hands from the wrists to the tips of his fingers. Forcing himself to relax his grip on the harp, he raised his head to lock eyes with Mother.

To his surprise, she was alone; he couldn't even begin to guess what could have made her part from Viserys. Behind her, Arthur was still standing at his post at the door, looking at him, making sure her presence wasn't unwanted. After a brief nod from the king, the Kingsguard closed the door and left the two Targaryens alone.

"Why aren't you with Viserys?" He asked, still holding onto the harp, as if it could protect him – from the only person he was certain he would never need protection from.

She walked over and seated herself on the bed next to him. Her hands grasped the harp gently and removed it from his numb fingers.

"Because my other son needs me more." She replied softly as her hands filled the emptiness left by the harp and squeezed his reassuringly. "I would like to ease his burdens if I can."

He sighed, but remained silent, unable to find the right words. How could he explain to her what was troubling him – without making her think he was losing his mind?

Mother could apparently read the answer from his features.

"You seemed shocked by her presence in my chambers." There was no doubt as to whom she was referring to. "Even though you'd asked me to get to know her upon your return from Casterly Rock."

He nodded helplessly, knowing how irrational his behaviour seemed.

She squeezed his hand once again gently. "What has changed between you and her?"

Too much. Too much had changed and he had no idea how to explain or fix it.

"I am afraid of the Hand's influence on me." He lied, unable to think of any other acceptable reason for his distancing from Lady Lannister. "He will use her as a tool to control me if I let it."

His lie didn't fool her. "Her father was the same all those moons ago." She pointed out sensibly. "His plans and desires have not changed."

Her violet eyes stared at him piercingly, as if they could see into the deepest corners of his being. Have yours?

His plans? Vastly. His desires? Immensely.

"I just…" He started, but found himself lacking words.

He just couldn't bring himself to admit his greatest secret to her. What if she laughed at him – or even worse, began to fear him? What if she came to think he'd gone mad, like so many Targaryens before him?

"I can tell you what I have observed of her since she came to the capital." Mother interrupted the silence that had emerged after his voice had drifted off into disheartened silence. Her expression was solemn, but calm, like her voice. "There is a fierce pride about her, as can be expected, given who her father is."

He couldn't disagree. Cersei Lannister indeed was proud – so proud that she would rise to her feet again and again, no matter how many times he knocked her on the ground, ever more determined to strike back. Accepting defeat was not in her nature – just one of many things he admired about her.

"But beneath the façade, she is just a young girl who wants to be loved." Something sparked in Mother's eyes for a moment; tears – or sympathy? "Even though she is afraid to love – because she has been taught that love is weakness."

That didn't come as a surprise. Tywin Lannister was hardly a man who encouraged or provided affection.

"She can be selfish," The queen continued, "But she can also be kind."

That was true too. Everything about her was complex, her family, her character and her future.

Maybe her future was the least complex of all, if only he could bring himself to acknowledge it unquestionably and act accordingly.

"And while her loyalty to her House is strong, it is not unyielding." Mother said with finality to her tone. "I think she would be more likely to help you stand the ground against the Hand than help him undermine you."

That did surprise him; then again, he had spoken to her so rarely he could hardly claim he knew her thoughts. They had spoken mostly in different tongue – the tongue of blades and steel. There had been so few words exchanged between them.

(It occurred to him in that moment how little he knew about her. What sweets did she like best? What was her favourite song?)

He shouldn't entertain such thoughts. He needed to keep his distance. He needed to…

"Those are the sides of her I have seen." Mother's voice interrupted his thoughts. He didn't miss the implication her words held – that he had seen sides to Cersei Lannister she hadn't.

If only she knew.

But she could know – if he could bring himself to tell her.

He removed one hand from her grasp and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Where to begin? His dreams and the old prophecies? The moment he had first become interested in Cersei Lannister?

"When we visited Casterly Rock last year, she confided in me about…" The words 'prophecy' just wouldn't leave his mouth, forcing him to look for a replacement, "Something that troubled her." He finished uncertainly. "It is what first sparked my interest in her."

He took a breath and licked his dry lips. Luckily, Mother didn't attack him with questions. She sat in silence and stared at him attentively, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"I made a deal with her on our way back to King's Landing." If he could not admit one truth to her, he could admit others. "I promised to teach her swordplay. And I did, at night, in one of empty rooms beneath the Red Keep."

Mother's expression remained unchanged, as though she wasn't at all surprised by that revelation. She must have suspected they had been meeting, even if she couldn't guess when or where. Still, she didn't speak and Rhaegar was grateful for it, because he doubted he would be able to share all his secrets with her if she interrupted him.

"And when Father decided to take her to Duskendale, I tried to reason with him – for her sake." In that moment, the guilt he felt over Father's death sank even deeper. He had begged him not to take her with him, not to stay in King's Landing himself. "I should have begged him to stay in the Red Keep." He barely noticed his voice had turned into whisper. "They both should have stayed."

Father would still be alive. I wouldn't be King. Maybe I wouldn't even have dreamt that dream.

Mother took his hand into hers again. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen." She said gently. "You can't blame…"

"But I do." He cut her off gravely, knowing what she was going to say. She couldn't understand the depth of his despair. A man who could see flashes of the future – and still so helpless. "I was too focused on her, on what she had said to me, on what it meant…"

"And what was it?" She asked him, loudly and clearly. Her gaze was filled with resolution, as though she had decided she wouldn't leave his chambers until she got the answer.

In face of that fierce determination, his already cracked walls stood no chance. He wanted to share this burden with someone, someone who wouldn't use it against him.

"A woman in Lannisport had foretold her her future." He wanted to say more, but this secret – this prophecy – wasn't his to share. Despite everything, he didn't want to betray Cersei Lannister's trust. On the other hand, he felt he had to explain his curiosity about it, lest he risk being deemed a naïve fool. "It was very…detailed. And not…impossible."

Whatever reaction he had expected, pure and unconcealed rage wasn't it. Mother was still sitting calmly next to him, but fire was burning in her darkened eyes and her grip had tightened around his hands almost until the point of pain.

"Living in the future," She all but snarled at him, looking like she was barely holding back. He had never seen her in such a state; he could barely recognize her, "Brings only pain and misery to the present. Without you even noticing."

Her nails ran into his skin, her gaze burning into his.

"Do not let prophecies take over your life." She told – no, commanded – him. "They will ruin it and lives of all those you love."

Her ominous words made him shiver.

"What do you know of prophecies?" He asked in a trembling voice, genuinely afraid of her in that moment like he had never been afraid of Father.

The intensity of her gaze lessened a bit, as if she had sensed his discomfort and didn't want him to be frightened. Nonetheless, her eyes still gazed at him sharply, insisting he heeded her warnings.

"I know your father and I were married because of one, even though neither he nor I wanted it." She wasn't snarling anymore, but her voice was cold and her tone contemptuous. "I never forgave our parents for forcing us into it – and I don't think your father had either."

He hadn't known that. He had thought Mother and Father had married because it was a Targaryen tradition, not because of a prophecy – prophecy whose contents he still didn't know.

"But what could it have said that made them wed you?" He asked, careful not to sound too eager to hear the answer. "If you were both so opposed to it?

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him with suspicion about his intentions. She had never looked at him like that all his life; it was like he was locking eyes with a stranger.

"The Prince That Was Promised was supposed to be born from our line." She said at last, sounding like she was spitting the first five words. "Apparently, that presumption was worth condemning both of us to an unhappy life together. I do not wish to insult your father's memory, but he was a better brother than a husband."

When she put it like that, taking prophecies into account did seem cruel. Guilt crept into his mind; wasn't he doing the same? He had been ignoring Cersei Lannister without even a word of explanation as to why for weeks now. Maybe he had managed to fool himself into believing she wasn't affected by it, but their accidental meeting today had turned that belief into ash.

"The Realm needs you here and now," Mother knelt down in front of him, her tone now beseeching, "Promise me your decisions will not be affected by prophecies."

His breath caught in his throat. How could he make that promise? How could he make it and mean it?

"But what if…" He tried weakly, but she cut him off.

"Promise me." She insisted, almost desperately, as if on the brink of breaking.

He took a deep breath – and pulled his hands out of hers.

"I am sorry, Mother," He said, his voice filled with regret – and resolve, "But I can't."

She stared at him with wide eyes for another moment, stunned by his refusal. Then she stood up and straightened down the skirts of her dress, the sight of a gracious, dutiful queen.

"If you will excuse me, Your Grace," He could feel the distance between them growing, her faith in him fading, "I need to return to Viserys."

Unable to find words, he merely nodded her dismissal. She curtsied and was gone in a few heartbeats, but her disappointed expression lingered in his mind long after he'd stopped hearing the sound of her steps.

He wanted to go to her and say the words to keep her happy, but he knew she wouldn't believe him. She would probably think even less of him if he tried to trick her. His actions had not only cost him the most trusted ally in the castle, but even worse, he had lost another family member, even though she was still breathing. Viserys was still too young to support him and Aemon was too far away.

He felt more alone than ever before.

Living in the future brings only pain and misery to the present.

How much could he take before he drowned in it?

The hall was filled with clinking of plates and goblets, with vivid chatter and loud laughter, with scent of meat and fruit and all sorts of wine gold could buy. The briefest glance revealed it was a feast only the royal family and the wealthiest Houses could afford. Ashara knew Starfall would never witness such extravagance – and it was only the first night of the tournament.

From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the boy sitting at her right. Her betrothed had barely spared her a few looks and even less words over the course of the evening, too busy staring at the plate in front of him, as if it held all the secrets he desired to know. Next to him, his twin mirrored his stance, silence surrounding them like walls of a fort. Between them and her father on her left-hand side, there was no way to escape it.

Because of her upcoming marriage to the Lannister heir, the Daynes were seated next to the family of the Hand, closest to the king on his right-hand side. On the other side of her father sat the Martells, Doran, Oberyn and Elia. Across the hall, on the king's left-hand side, sat the Velaryons, the Baratheons and the Hightowers, three families with past ties to the royal family. Furthest from the king's table were the Tullys, the Tyrells, the Starks, the Arryns and the Greyjoys. Whoever made sitting arrangements knew their history; placing the Greyjoys, the Starks and the Tullys in too close proximity would have been a disaster. The Arryns and the Tyrells kept them just far enough apart to keep the old grievances buried beneath pleasantries.

Since the beginning of the feast, many had left their tables to join the conversation at one of the other ones. The Baratheon heir had joined the Stark children while their father had moved to sit next to Lord Arryn. The two men more talked than ate, but they were too far away for her to hear or read from their lips what they were talking about. Lord Tully was speaking to Lord Baratheon and Lord Hightower was seated at the Tyrell table, talking to the head of the House in all but name, according to the rumours, Lady Olenna Redwyne.

"Would your betrothed mind if I steal you for a moment?" A familiar voice whispered teasingly into her ear as a warm hand curled around her shoulder.

She was on her feet even before answering Elia. "I don't think he will even notice." She said lowly as he passed her friend by. "Besides, I am not going far."

Elia returned to her spot next to Oberyn while Ashara took Doran's empty chair. The eldest Martell, as serious as she remembered him from her childhood, had exchanged the company of his siblings for that of Lord Tully and his brother. Next to them, his lack of muscle that came from polishing skills with various weapons was even more obvious, but those who underestimated him and the sharpness of his mind did so at their peril.

Rare few underestimated his younger brother, especially after the incident with Lord Yronwood years before. The Red Viper, as he had been called since, shot her a daring grin, which she returned in a blink of an eye. It seemed like they had never changed from the spirited children who had shared games and secrets in the Water Gardens – before they learned there were more dangerous secrets, more dangerous games.

"I must confess I am jealous of the Lannister boy." Oberyn said as he raised a goblet of wine to his lips. "It is his luck that he didn't have to choose between two most beautiful women in the Realm. An impossible choice."

"Save your flattering for girls who don't know you as well as we do." Elia interjected before Ashara could reply.

She snorted in amusement under her breath. Clearly nothing had changed between the Martell siblings.

"Well, judging by his behaviour, I don't think he had any choice in the matter." She sighed; this marriage might not have been her choice either, but it didn't mean she wasn't displeased by Jaime Lannister's absolute lack of interest in her. "I could forgive his distraction during the tournament – he is just a boy after all – but he has barely paid me any attention during the feast."

Oberyn's impish grin widened. "If I didn't know you as well as I do, I might think you were offended by his lack of interest in you."

His tone was teasing, but his words kept ringing in her ears. She hadn't expected the boy to fall in love with her instantly, of course, but she definitely hadn't counted with him ignoring her completely. She wasn't used to being ignored; her beauty guaranteed the attention of men. So what was so different about Jaime Lannister that he couldn't even pay her the simplest courtesy?

"He is young." Elia came to her rescue. "He could be intimidated by the mere idea of marriage – or the fact his bride is older than him." She winked mischievously at her friend. "I am sure Ashara's charms will make him come around soon enough."

Ashara bowed her head in mock modesty. "I will do my best."

"I'm sure you will." Oberyn said cheekily and helped himself to more wine.

Suddenly, the cacophony in the hall grew quieter.

As one, Ashara and two Martells turned to the king's table. He was on his feet, heading towards the Hightowers. Every pair of eyes in the room watched him approach Lady Leyla Hightower and offer her his hand.

The girl's astonishment was obvious; only after a not so subtle nudge from her father did she raise her hand and put it in the king's. She seemed to barely keep her balance on her shaking legs as she followed him to the middle of the hall, where the few dancers were moving out of the way to make room for them. The bewilderment in her features had been replaced by dread and when the king turned to face her again, she didn't even try to meet his eye, but kept her gaze on his chest. Her skin was almost paler than the fabric of her dress, as though there was not a single drop of blood beneath it. Ashara hoped for her sake that the Grandmaester was ready to react should the poor girl faint, because it was definitely not out of the realm of possibility.

The king seemed not to notice any of it – or maybe he simply didn't care. His posture was still rigid, but he met Lady Hightower's hesitant steps with grace, his attention fixed solely on her, as if he wasn't aware of the numerous eyes on them.

Or as if he was only too aware of them.

All of a sudden, his intention became clear to Ashara. He had chosen the plainest girl in the room, the one nobody – not even the Lady herself – believed could become Queen, so he could show the lords his decision wouldn't be so easily guessed. The next girl he chose might just be the next Queen – or he might save the last dance for the chosen one. Nobody would know until the very end.

Despite herself, she was impressed. The new king might be many things, but he was not foolish.

"Well, I am not fooled by his display." Oberyn stated flatly as he took a gulp of wine. "The Hightower girl is about as likely to be the next Queen as I am."

Ashara couldn't help grinning. "You would make a lovely Queen, though."

Oberyn sighed theatrically. "I know."

"Lady Ashara."

She turned her back to Oberyn to face the owner of the voice that had called her name – her betrothed.

"My lord." She was stunned to see him standing there, looking almost as nervous and pale as Lady Hightower.

"May I…" His voice drifted off into silence before she could even begin to guess what he had meant to ask. When he finally found the words, it was the lowest of whispers. "Will you dance with me… my lady?"

Taken by surprise, but in control of her features, she gave him her loveliest smile. "I would love to, my lord."

He helped her to her feet, then led her among the dancing couples. His back was turned to his family, which allowed Ashara a good view on them. Lord Lannister looked only slightly less stern than usually as he observed them – or maybe his gaze was resting on the king and Lady Hightower, who were dancing nearby.

Her gaze then fell on Cersei Lannister.

The girl was glaring at them, anger twisting her lovely features. When her eyes met Ashara's, the furious glint in the emerald orbs became murderous for a moment before the girl's gaze returned back to her plate, as if she couldn't even bear the sight of them.

Ashara couldn't understand why the girl was so upset; it wasn't like she had stolen her brother's attention just as they had been discussing something important. They had barely looked at each other all evening. Besides, the boy would soon become Ashara's husband; Cersei Lannister could hardly expect he would have as much time for her as before.

Something wasn't quite right about her rage and Ashara was determined to find out what. She needed a weapon that could be used against her new family if she wanted to survive in a lion's den and this – whatever it was – might just be it.

"Your sister seems upset." She whispered to her betrothed just before they started dancing. "Is she unwell?"

His eyes widened in fear for the briefest of moments, as if he was on the brink of leaving her and rushing instantly to his sister's side. The dance made them part then, so she didn't have the chance to try to guess his thoughts for long; when his eyes locked with hers again, his features were schooled into a solemn, unreadable expression.

"She was unwell earlier today." He replied formally. "She should have stayed in her chambers, but she insisted on going to the feast."

They parted again, so she couldn't answer him right away. Casting another glance at the Lannister table, she saw nothing had changed. Cersei Lannister was still looking at everything except for the couples that were dancing.

It occurred to Ashara that maybe she wasn't the reason for the girl's fury.

"I suppose she didn't want to offend the king." She suggested quietly when they came closer again. "She had already missed the opening of the tournament this morning."

Cersei Lannister's absence from the tournament had been a source of gossip all day. It had been suggested her captivity in Duskendale had cost her her mind, her health, her maidenhead. As far as Ashara could say, the only thing that stood out about her was her short hair, unusual for a highborn girl. If that was the only mark the imprisonment in Duskendale had left on her, she should consider herself lucky; there were scars than ran far deeper.

"Queen Mother wasn't there either and the king wasn't offended by her absence." When he spoke to her again, Jaime's voice held a note of anger too. It was somewhat uncanny how alike the twins were; their faces might be just one face and its reflection in the looking glass. "Why should it be any different for Cersei?"

Ashara thought the answer was rather obvious.

"Because Queen Rhaella is his mother." She replied firmly. "Of course his treatment of her is different than his treatment of everyone else, including your sister."

When his eyes narrowed at her and he opened his mouth to object, she realized his views on the matter were far from objective. His sister was clearly a weak spot that wasn't to be touched – yet.

"Please, let us not argue." She said softly when they met again, before he could speak. "We have only just met and we are supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. I don't think we should start fighting within the first week of our acquaintance."

He blinked in surprise at her words, his objections dying on his lips. Luckily for him, they were again separated for a few moments. Ashara waited for their next reunion impatiently; what answer would he give her?

To her surprise, the next time she laid eyes on him, he was smiling.

"Maybe within the second week." He said quietly, teasing glow colouring the emerald orbs.

A smile escaped her lips without her even planning it. She shouldn't encourage him to dismiss serious matters with jests, but for now, it might actually benefit them.

"You should spend some time living under the same roof with Oberyn Martell." She told him, half-teasingly – half-truthfully. "That experience teaches one patience and restraint like no other. There is hardly anything you can do that will provoke me."

His smile disappeared almost instantly. Another weak spot.

"I will try not to anger you, my lady." There was no playfulness in his voice anymore – as if he intended to try to keep his word and knew he would fail.

She yearned to know exactly what was on his mind, but decided against pressuring him. For now, she would pretend they were still jesting with each other, even though she meant her next words as seriously as he had meant his last.

"A wise choice, my lord." Her smile was just a bit too sweet to be honest. "Because I can be quite dangerous when I am angry."

"And look-look at the Lannisters!" The Baratheon heir, a bit deeper in his cups than he ought to be, pointed in the direction of said family with his forefinger. "It seems they forgot which one is supposed to wear breeches and which one gown!"

Lyanna bit her lip for the hundredth time since he had joined them. He had told many jokes trying to impress her – and she had been trying even harder not to laugh at them. She didn't want to give him (or Father) any reason to think she was falling for his charms. She was not. Just because he had quick wit and amiable nature didn't mean she would agree to be wed to him. She had plans for her future – plans that were far more important than one persistent lord.

Unfortunately, she couldn't simply ask him to go away. He was the future lord of Stormlands, as Father had mentioned to her more than once, but more importantly, he was Ned's friend. She didn't want to hurt her beloved brother, so she bore Robert Baratheon's attention with patience she didn't know she was capable of.

In attempt to appear polite, she glanced at the table where the Lannister family was seated. Only two of three seats were taken, but she didn't even try to locate the missing lion. To her utmost delight, the sight of the golden-haired girl who looked more like a boy than a girl gave her an idea. If she cut off her hair, maybe she could sneak in to compete on the tournament. And then she could ride and fight and win…

"I feel I'm getting closer to melting your cold northern heart, my lady." She was suddenly exposed to the smell of wine coming from too short a distance. Robert Baratheon no longer towered above her, but bowed down so their faces were in the same level.

She must have smiled at the wrong moment. By the gods, I will never smile again, she swore, wishing he had remained up straight.

"I…" She cleared her throat, struggling to move a bit further away so she could breathe.

Her eyes met her brother's; Ned only shrugged helplessly.

Well, if he refused to help her, then she would pull him down with her.

"How long did it take you to melt Ned's heart?" She asked, taking shallow breaths through her mouth.

Robert threw his head backwards and laughed, taking the smell away, thank the gods.

"He fought me every step of the way." He clasped Ned's shoulder with friendly familiarity. "But I broke him at last. The first time he cracked a smile, his teeth gritted so loudly it could be heard at the Moon's door."

Now she did laugh, truly, because she knew it took a long time for Ned to relax around people he wasn't close to. He was different than her and Brandon and even Benjen, who were loud and wild no matter whom they were surrounded with. It didn't make her love him any less though.

"Will you dance with me, my lady?" An unfamiliar voice spoke, bringing her back to her senses.

She opened her mouth to refuse, but was caught off guard when she realized who had asked her for a dance. It was the king himself.

"Um…" Her first instinct was still to say no, but she was aware that Father would disown her then and there if she insulted the king. Having no choice, she forced herself to nod. "I would be honoured, Your Grace."

She allowed him to lead her into the middle of the hall by the hand and took her place facing him as the music started again. As they danced, it took every bit of her willpower not to look at her own feet and every bit of her focus to execute the steps correctly. The king was less a real person and more a wooden dummy in her mind, an opponent that couldn't surprise her if she just remained concentrated. She knew Father was watching (as was probably everyone in the hall) and that she had to present herself in the best light to the king and the lords of the Realm. She couldn't embarrass herself, her family or the North. She wouldn't. She just had to endure this for a little while longer and then…

"My cousin should think twice before he speaks about matters he knows little about."

She nearly missed a step when the king spoke suddenly, but managed to keep her balance. She remained silent for a few moments and a few steps that took her to be certain she could spare a bit of her attention for the conversation.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" She asked when they came closer again.

For the first time since he had asked her for a dance, she actually saw him instead of seeing through him and was quite cross with herself for finding that he was handsome. Not in the way Robert Baratheon was handsome – she could admit that Ned's friend was handsome, however grudgingly – King Rhaegar's beauty was…almost otherworldly. His features were regal and impeccably shaped and his long silver hair reminded her of winter's first snow, untouched and unblemished. But her attention was drawn to his striking violet eyes, their darkness perfectly dissimilar to the paleness of his hair and skin. He was…

"Lady Cersei's hair was a small price to pay for her escape from Duskendale." His answer interrupted her musings. "She saved herself from those who meant her harm and she should be admired for it, not mocked."

That made her mind abandon the thoughts of him for a moment. "She saved herself?" She asked in disbelief, barely restraining herself from scoffing at the suggestion. Southern girls weren't like Northern girls. They didn't save themselves but waited to be rescued – except for perhaps in Dorne. And Cersei Lannister wasn't Dornish. "How?"

Judging by the way his eyes narrowed, he didn't appreciate her display of scepticism. Which was unfair, in her opinion; how many ladies did he know that fought their own battles instead of having men do it for them?

"You can ask her yourself." He said at last, his tone dancing on thin line between firm and cold.

Lyanna wasn't unsettled by his stance. He might be King and he might be…fine-looking, but she was still determined to have the final word.

"I most certainly will." She said with a saccharine smile. "That should make for an interesting story. Thank you for mentioning it to me, Your Grace."

When his eyes widened in surprise, she knew she had won.

They spent the rest of the dance in silence.

When the music finally ended, she turned her back on the table where her family was sitting and went straight for the Lannister table. The chair next to Cersei Lannister was still unoccupied, so she rushed to it as fast as she could without actually running. She almost seated herself without a word, but then remembered her manners.

"Excuse me, but may I join you?"

Cersei Lannister raised her head and shot her a bewildered look that soon gained a stern edge.

"My brother sits here." She said dismissively and returned her gaze to the plate in front of her.

But Lyanna wouldn't be chased away so easily. She wanted to hear about the Cersei Lannister's escape from Duskendale. If she got to annoy the unkind girl with her presence as well, that would make it even more fun.

She glanced around, as if looking for the named owner of the chair, then lowered herself leisurely into it. "I don't see him." She shrugged her shoulders in mock indifference. "I won't be here for long. I just wanted to ask you something."

Cersei's brow furrowed as rage sparked in her green eyes. "If you have a jest about my appearance on your mind, I suggest that you rethink whether you want to say it out loud."

"I have no jest on my mind, but my question is about your hair." Lyanna returned her gaze calmly, not intimidated by the unsaid threat. "I want to know what happened to it – what happened to you in Duskendale."

Her answer seemed to have confused Cersei for a moment, before suspicion coloured her features.

"Why do you want to know?" The golden-haired girl asked warily. She clearly still believed Lyanna was hiding a prank at her expense up her sleeves.

"Because I was told you had saved yourself instead of waiting for someone else to save you." Lyanna said straightforwardly. Wordplays weren't her strong point; if she had anything to say, she said it directly. "If that is true, then I am impressed."

Cersei shot her a sharp look. "It is true."

In return, Lyanna shot her a challenging grin. "Tell me every little detail and maybe I will believe you."

Offended, Cersei crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why should I tell you anything?" She demanded acidly. "Why should I care whether you believe me?"

"Because," Lyanna helped herself to the other girl's goblet and a cup and poured water into the goblet. She put the goblet in front of Cersei and looked at her intensely, "I am probably the only lady in this hall who is more impressed by one's survival skills than one's sewing skills. All these girls would have waited to be rescued if they had been in your place in Duskendale. I, like you, would not."

The intensity and suspicion in Cersei's gaze lessened. She stared at Lyanna in contemplative silence for a few more moments, then stretched her hand out.

"We haven't been formally introduced." She pointed out firmly. "Lady Cersei of House Lannister."

Lyanna accepted the offered hand. "Lady Lyanna of House Stark."

They shook hands. Cersei had a strong grip, stronger than Lyanna would have expected.

"Now, I want to hear all about your battle scars." She glanced at the short golden hair suggestively, then locked eyes with Cersei again with an amused grin on her lips. "To me, you can boast about them all you like."