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Lady Stark

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The Seven Kingdoms were at open war. Robert Baratheon won at the Trident and Prince Rhaegar was dead. She was confined at Casterly Rock while her father and uncles tried to get Jaime back. Aerys held her other half as leverage for his father. The king knew how much Jaime meant to her lord father. Cersei thought about Lyanna Stark, the northern girl who was the cause of this thrice dammed war. Prince Rhaegar was taken by the wild beauty and stole her away from Winterfell. She played a waiting game and not for the first time she wished she had been born a boy. If she were a boy she would have been the heir to Casterly Rock. She would be fighting along with father and uncle Kevan, but she was a girl, who was to be sold like a horse to the highest bidder.

Her father promised her she would be a queen. Cersei didn’t know if father would make well on his promise. The players in the game changed drastically in the past few months, ever since that tourney. Rhaegar plotted and kidnapped Lyanna that same night. Baratheon had been furious and declared to avenge his intended’s honor. Father had almost smiled assuring her that it was time to seize the day. Soon they were all embroiled in a bloody war that threatened them all. Her lord father was aiding Robert’s Rebellion. King’s Landing was to be under siege in the upcoming weeks. She didn’t like being kept in the dark, hated even more to be in close quarters with her foolish cousins and her monster of a little brother. The little beast was off without a care in the world. She couldn’t glance at him without hating the mere sight of him.

She was in her room trying to pleasure herself thinking of Jaime and his cock. She tried to remember that night when he deflowered her; it had been a couple of months before the tourney and their lives changed. She had seduced him. It had always been her. She was the one to plunge ahead and convince him to do things. She was braver, smarter, and more ambitious than Jaime had ever been but her lord father only had eyes for Jaime, brave, fearless Jaime who was now a member of the Kingsguard. They had thought that the solution. She was to marry Rhaegar Targaryen and be queen. There wasn’t any other way; Jaime had to be with her always. Such fools they were, her lover was at King’s Landing while she was in the Westerlands treated like a child.

Her fingers slid inside her opening and she imagined Jaime’s fingers and mouth in her. He had her at least three times before she stood up and left for Casterly Rock with the old Hand of the King. She didn’t know it then but that was the last time she saw her brother. She thought bitterly to her father’s explanations. “The time has come child. We have to go before is too late for us.” Her father had the same cold, hard glint in his eyes. He meant his words and would not alter his plans. She pleasured herself until his name spilled from her lips. She slept better that night; thinking of Jaime soothed her a little.

“Wake up child, your father arrived last night. He is waiting for you at his solar.” Aunt Genna shook the sleep away from her.

“Myra, fetch some water.” Her aunt told one of her servant girls. The fat woman helped her up the bed into the privy. “You look a fright Cersei.” Cersei had a half a mind to shut this woman up. She was the Lady of Casterly Rock. Her lord father never married after her mother Lady Joanna died in the birthing chamber. “Your father has wonderful news to tell you. Lyanna Stark is dead and King’s Landing has fallen. You shall be queen.” Aunt Genna said giddily.

She went along; for the sake of things, if this old woman was right she couldn’t look like a commoner. She was ready for audience in less than forty-five minutes. Lord Tywin Lannister didn’t like to be kept waiting, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and saw how beautiful she was; golden hair, perfect skin, luminous green eyes, svelte and proud. She was a queen, all a queen should be.

She walked down the halls of Casterly Rock until she reached her father’s solar. She knocked on the heavy wooden doors. “Come in Cersei.”

She stepped in and curtsied, “have a seat child. I have most wonderful news for you.”

Cersei sat in front of her father. “The war is over. Robert Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne.” Her lord father said as if the news were just a remark about the weather. She felt her heart swell, Robert wasn’t Jaime but he was dashing and strong. He was heroic and he would make a wonderful King. She was sure of it.

“He is to be married in three days.” Tywin Lannister did not betray any feelings. Cersei didn’t understand, the travel from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing was at least five days unless Robert travelled with her lord father. The wedding couldn’t be held in the Westerlands however; it wouldn’t be beneficial for the crown.

“I don’t understand father?” She said with a puzzled brow.

“Baratheon is to marry one of the Tully girls.” Cersei felt such anger toward her father. She could have easily clawed his eyes out but she was a lady. The Lady of Casterly Rock, ladies did not raise their voices, she was a lioness and lionesses did not cry.

“What am I to make of this father? I am not one of your banner men or your lords. I don’t understand why these news should concern me at all.” She would remain composed. Tywin Lannister did not appreciate tantrums. She was not a little girl. She was a woman grown.

“You are to marry Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.” Tywin stood up. Cersei couldn’t not even if he asked. Winterfell, she remembered the direwolf sigil and the words. “Winter is Coming.” The north, that was so far away, she had never been so far away. The northern kingdom was so foreign so cold and strange to her.

“Father surely a better match could be made. You promised me I would be queen.” She said with a calm voice void of any feeling. Father hated any displays of childish emotions as he called them.

“Alas I did child but Jon Arryn made the marriage agreements before Robert took the throne.” Tywin’s only sign of affection was a small squeeze in her right shoulder. “Cheer up, the North is the largest kingdom in Westeros. You will be lady of Winterfell.”

As she saw it as a punishment more than anything else, “I’m your only daughter and you would sail me to the end of the world. Away from my home, to the home of savages and wildings.”

“Spare me the mummer’s spectacle. I’ll find a way to release your foolish brother from his Kingsguard oath. Your union shall bring us prosperity. The Westerlands and the North together, power is power don’t forget it Cersei. Your future does not trust us. It was a trial convincing him to take your hand.” Her lord father said and then picked a book from the shelves. She took it as a hint that she was dismissed.

She spent the rest of the week making arrangements to leave her home. They would travel to Winterfell that same week. Tyrion wouldn’t be travelling with them; it would only be father, a group of Lannister men and her. She only cried when Aunt Genna hugged her the night before she was to leave the Rock. She had been the only mother she knew. “You’ll do well Cersei. You’ll be the lady of Winterfell. You’ll have your own castle. Cheer up girl.”

“Aunt I don’t want to go. I miss Jaime; we were supposed to be together. Father was supposed to be the Hand, Jaime was supposed to be in the Kingsguard and I was supposed to be queen.” She said with tears in her eyes. She would was to be the wife of Eddard Stark. She heard tales of the Quiet Wolf, the men said he was cold, ruthless in battle a warrior she supposed he was quite a catch. She was overwhelmed, it was wrong. She should have never gone to that Maggy witch. She remembered the prophecy but she wasn’t queen. She would never be queen.

As they travelled North Cersei learned many things from the guards and his father. Jaime refused to be the Lord of Casterly Rock. He swore an oath; it didn’t matter because he was known as the Kingslayer. Jaime killed Aerys, and King Robert made him part of the Kingsguard along with Barristan Selmy. Cersei didn’t understand why Jaime refused his title. She also learned that Robert married Catelyn Tully while Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King married Lysa, the younger sister.

She remembered the Tully sisters; they were pretty but not beautiful. She was beautiful, regal. They stopped at various inns; it took them almost three weeks to reach the Northern lands. She learned a lot about her betrothed, Eddard Stark was never to be Lord of Winterfell. He was the second son of Rickard Stark. Brandon Stark was to marry Catelyn Tully but he died strangled in King’s Landing. After a fashion he was to be Tully’s husband but Hoster Tully saw a more advantageous match when he lent his men to Robert Baratheon.

The welcome party was a small one, a maester, an old woman and a tall serious young man. He couldn’t be called ugly but he wasn’t dashing like Jaime or handsome like Robert. Eddard Stark was serious, his features cold, like this forsaken place. Ever since they crossed the Neck a bitter cold set in her bones. She shivered a little as she stepped out of the carriage. Her lord father helped her out into the snow.

“Lord Stark.” Tywin said with a greeting, almost a ghost of a smile in his face.

“Lord Lannister.” The lord of Winterfell said just as formally.

“Lady Cersei.” Eddard Stark addressed her. Cersei curtsied, never forgetting her manners and breeding.

His face didn’t betray any emotions. She was used to men looking at her with desire almost from the moment they lay eyes upon her. This man however merely glanced at her before addressing her lord father again.

“Lord Tywin you will find your accommodations to your satisfaction.” Lord Stark wasn’t a gracious host. He led them inside the surprisingly warm castle. It was truly beautiful although it lacked some finesse. She would make sure to change a few things once she was the Lady of Winterfell. Lord Stark left them in the dinning hall and went to attend to something important or so he said.

The old woman who was at their welcoming party led her to her quarters. “These are to be yours my lady. Ned’s quarters are next to these.” She motioned to an adjoining door.

“Thank you. I wish to be alone now.” She smiled frostily and was glad when the woman let her be. She sighed; this place was to be her home from now on. At least the bed was soft and the place was warm. She would at least be able to run the whole household. Eddard Stark seemed to avoid being in her presence. He retired early and left at dawn to see to his affairs.

The day came and she was surprised when her father escorted her to the old Godswoods. The Starks kept the Old Gods, she’d known but it seemed strange to wed outside of a Sept. She wore a golden gown; it was beautiful, made of fine details and fitted perfectly to her figure. She brought Myra along with her; the young woman helped her put her hair in one of the latest styles. She wore her emerald necklace, it had been her mother’s and father gave it to her on her last name day.

“You look beautiful m’lady.” Myra smiled at her. Cersei smiled tightly too. All her beauty would be wasted in these cold lands. She wished for the hundredth time that Jaime were here. Her father waited outside her door. He commented on her beauty.
“Don’t disappoint me Cersei, your brothers have shamed me for a lifetime as it is. Do your duty and give this man sons. Give him sons with Lannister blood.” Tywin told her as they walked to the Weirwoods. It was very cold and the heavy Lannister cloak helped her to stave off the chilliness.

Lord Stark stood there with a Septon in front of an old Weirwood tree. The ceremony was surprisingly fast. Finally they came to the part that she knew, “Who gives this woman?”

“I Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock do.” Her lord father said with a strong voice.

She felt cold air when her Lannister cloak was removed. Eddard Stark put on a much heavier grey cloak. She looked to his cold grey eyes as he fastened the cloak on her shoulders.

They looked at each other in the eyes for the first time. Her husband kissed her gently, nothing like the fire she felt whenever Jaime’s lips touched her own. She didn’t feel anything for this man, not an ounce of anything but indifference.