Joanna:
A king does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter.
Those were the words Aerys had used to decline her husband's proposed betrothal between the Crown Prince Rhaegar, and their daughter Cersei.
Joanna Lannister wouldn't forget the glee swimming in the king's eyes at having this power over Tywin. At being able to refuse him, to humiliate him within his own castle with his bannermen and family in attendance. The audacity from Aerys was surprising even to her. She knew him to be resentful and sullen of Tywin and his accomplishments, but she didn't think him capable of such a deliberate slight against the man who had faithfully served as his Hand for nearly fifteen years.
Those turned out to be the king's parting words to Tywin as the feast that had been planned to be thrown to celebrate the end of the tournament was canceled, and the royal party swiftly departed the Rock to make the trip back to King's Landing. That had been more than an hour ago.
Tywin had then decided to gather his brothers in his solar to inform them of what had happened and to plan their response.
"It's an outrage!" Tygett emphasized his frustration by slamming the table with his clenched fist. "An insult to our family."
"He was correct, Tygett," Gerion replied, smirking as he spoke, "We are all but humble servants to the Crown."
Tygett glowered towards his younger brother. "We are House Lannister," he thumped his chest, where a gold roaring lion was emblazoned on his crimson doublet, "We are no ordinary house."
Her husband had yet to speak since he had given them the news. He was still and quiet, like a sitting statue. This was his way. To listen to others, to hear their arguments, their reasons, to quietly and quickly sift through their ideas, examine the merit of them to to project the success of them, all without saying a word.
Through his silence, Joanna wasn't fooled by her husband's stoicism. His face looked carved from stone, refusing to show any impact that the king's refusal had had on him, but Joanna could see it. She knew her husband well enough to read the signs that were there. The way his lips pressed together, the tightening of his jaw, the hue in his green eyes, how he steepled his fingers atop the table.
All of which were subtle, but telling hints of her husband's surprise, displeasure, and even a smidge of personal shame at how Aerys had spoken so cruelly about their family. The latter feeling, she knew he'd deny with all the intensity and ferociousness of a lion.
Nothing meant more to her Tywin then their family and their legacy, and Aerys had spat on the name of Lannister with his cruel rejection. He was particularly prickly when it came to the family name being insulted. After all, he had witnessed it at its worse during the reign of his father, and she knew he had vowed to make sure House Lannister would never reach such depths of mockery ever again.
A vow that had Tywin drag their name back to glory through blood and grief, and over the bodies of Tarbecks and Reynes to reassert it where it belonged within the Seven Kingdoms. Only for his arduous work to be mocked by the very king, he served, and once called friend.
A cruel jape, Joanna thought, and one her husband didn't deserve.
It was not just Tywin's reaction that occupied her mind but that of her daughter. Joanna knew how much Cersei wanted to be Queen. Due to a promise that he made her when she was younger, that she'd marry the Crown Prince and be the next Queen. Telling her that she deserved nothing less than a crown atop her head.
Words, she wished her husband had consulted with her before filling her head with such dangerous promises. It was no longer harmless. Now, it was up to Joanna to try to deal with the fallout of the king's decision not just with Tywin, but with Cersei.
One matter at a time, she reminded herself.
"You should resign, Tywin," Tygett implored his brother, "let the king find a new servant." He spat the last word out.
"Don't be hasty, Tygett," Kevan cautioned his younger brother, "Aerys would not take kindly to Tywin resigning," he spared his older brother a look, "or even accept it."
Tygett glowered at Kevan's approach, "You'd have us do nothing?" He crossed his muscular arms over his thick chest.
"I didn't say that," Kevan replied patiently.
"He'd have us pretend nothing happened," Gerion pointed out wryly.
Kevan frowned. "Not pretend or forget what the king said to Tywin or our family."
Sensing more unproductive squabbling ahead, Joanna decided to put her voice forward for the first time, "Aery is fickle and foolish." She didn't mince words when it came to the man who insulted her family, king or not. "He is short-sighted," she turned to her husband to see she had his undivided attention, "We need to think bigger, darling."
"What do you mean, Joanna?" That was Kevan, but she knew her cousin and her husband well enough to know that in meetings like these Kevan often voiced what Tywin was thinking or what he wanted to be said aloud. Her husband may be quiet, but that didn't mean he didn't get his point across.
"Aerys made the first move," Joanna explained, "a blunder out of pride and animosity directed at Tywin." She wasn't one to curb her tongue. "It is our move. He declined us. So, we take away one of his choices."
"Choices?" Tygett was scratching the blond stubble that covered his chin.
"I think our sweet Joanna is referring to a bride," Gerion winked at her, "or to be more specific one of the brides that our king would consider for his precious prince."
"I knew that," growled Tygett, glaring at the youngest brother of Tytos Lannister, who took the glare with a grin, before raising his glass in toast to him and drinking.
"For Jaime," Tywin's voice was soft, but it drew everyone's notice, as all heads turned to him, as the Lord of Casterly Rock made his voice heard for the first time.
"Yes," she smiled towards her husband, pleased, but not surprised that he was following her logic. "We remove one of his choices to better present Cersei in a future proposal."
"But who?" Kevan asked.
Joanna already had an answer to that, "Princess Elia Martell."
"The Dornish princess?" Tygett scrunched his nose, not hiding his distaste for the Dornish. A common reaction throughout much of Westeros since the Dornish were little loved or regarded outside their lands.
"A princess for Jaime?" Gerion chuckled, "it'll be like one of the stories I told him when he was younger." Leaning back in his seat, green eyes glimmering in amusement.
"The Martells are a respectable and powerful house," Kevan said in a rare moment that showed more his perspective then Tywin's.
However, it wasn't their opinions or reactions she wanted, it was her husband's. Her eyes were on him as she gave her answer. Alert and ready to decipher any flicker of movement that came across his face or reflection in his eyes that could help provide her with what her husband thought of the match.
"Explain," Tywin's one word command, came as relief and encouragement to her because it meant he was considering it.
A command she didn't flinch at since these were points she had been considering for years. A match on her mind since Jaime and Cersei were newborn babes. They started off as conversations between her and her dear friend, the ruling Princess of Dorne, Mariah Martell, Elia's mother. And have continued with Mariah's son, and Prince of Sunspear, Doran.
"Aerys is a proud man," she began, "He thinks highly of his family and will not let just any house marry into the Targaryens."
"You'd think he'd consider a Martell over us?" Tygett scoffed.
"I do," Joanna took her cousin's dismissal in stride. She didn't fault him his viewpoint. Tygett was a soldier, not a scholar. He wasn't one to understand politics and scheming, but fighting and swordplay.
"House Martell has Targaryen blood in their veins. Aerys married his sister, and will look to try to keep the blood pure." She turned to Tywin to dispute this claim. He didn't.
"What does House Lannister get out of this?" Kevan asked, "It seems our motives are simply to steal a rival of Cersei away from Rhaegar." He sent her an inquisitive look. "How does this make us stronger?"
Joanna resisted the urge to smile at her cousin's question, knowing it wasn't his, but Tywin's. She looked towards her husband to see him meet her stare with an impassive look, green eyes flecked with gold, but that didn't bother her. She sent him a small smile and a wink and saw his lips twitch in response before she turned back to Kevan to answer his question.
"Lord Tyrell is an ambitious man, and the Reach is one of the strongest kingdoms," Joanna observed, "An alliance with Dorne, a longtime rival of House Tyrell would do well to keep them in check, to curb their influence and to give them pause. A pact between the Westerlands and Dorne would leave the Reach suddenly exposed, and vulnerable on their northern and southern borders."
She by no means possessed a military mind or an eye for strategy, but she knew her observations made sense to the others. Joanna could see how they considered her point. Tygett, the martial knight nodded to her thinking as if seeing the wisdom in being able to check such a powerful region as the Reach before it could become a threat to them. Kevan looked pensive as if he was imagining the maps in his mind, picturing her words, and the movements of it all.
"I don't know what Lord Tyrell covets more, power or food," Gerion snickered.
"Even he would recognize this alliance as something that would have to make him consider his moves carefully," Tygett finished.
"Exactly," Joanna was pleased that it seemed to win some of them over. She looked over to her quiet husband, she was certain her points were ones that he had already considered when she broached the alliance. After all, her husband dealt with politics and strategy all the time, and his mind would naturally go to such matters when presented with alliances. Weighing the worth of them before deciding it was something to consider or pass on.
"The Reach's influence in the capital grows," Tywin observed. "Their ambitions cannot be easily sated," he clicked his tongue, "a line descended from stewards, who believe themselves worthy of gold and glory beyond their blood." He drummed his fingers across the table.
"They can field the largest force," Tygett pointed out, with a sour look like it pained him to admit their superior forces.
"Don't forget the Redwyne Fleet," Gerion added, looking at his wineglass, "or their wine." He took a sip from his glass, "Very good wine," he smacked his lips together. Looking more amused than concerned about this conversation.
Tywin sent his brother an annoyed look which Gerion seemed to detect and then defect with an easy smile before pouring more wine for himself.
He japes, because he can't take being in his brother's shadow, Joanna thought, watching the interactions between the brothers. Kevan accepted his role and stayed content in his brother's shadow. Tygett resented it, trying to prove his worth through his skill at arms, a task he's accomplished, as he's considered a fierce warrior. Gerion tried to ignore it, to be indifferent, he chose japes and smirks to try to show he didn't care.
"The Tyrells will try to angle one of their kin to entice the king to accept as a bride for his son," Kevan observed.
"Aerys will not consider the Tyrells," Joanna reminded them.
"Agreed," Tywin said softly, "and neither will we."
Joanna knew her husband had little love for House Tyrell. The Wardens of the Reach were descended from stewards, raised beyond their station and made lords of Highgarden by Aegon the Conqueror. A slight that still has many of their bannermen seething with resentment.
However, their growing wealth and power couldn't be ignored, and she knew it was something Tywin had noticed too. Recognizing them as a potential threat to House Lannisters' position within the Seven Kingdoms. A position that Tywin had cemented on the bones of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck.
The Tyrells would not be considered because of their history. So, why not with their rival, House Martell? Who boasted of a rich and proud bloodline with a storied history which included strong blood ties to House Targaryen. After all, alliances weren't just about strengthening ties, but weakening potential rivals.
"What of our daughter?" Tywin asked, after seconds of silence while he considered the offer.
"We bring the match to Aerys again," Joanna answered, "Since he'll soon learn he can find no better match then Cersei and our house."
"What if he offers Rhaegar to the Princess?" Kevan put out there.
"Dorne will not break the betrothal to our family," Joanna said without hesitation, aware of the odd looks she was getting from her husband's siblings, who probably considered her daft with her declaration, but she knew better. Joanna knew how much this pact would mean to the late princess of Dorne, the mother of Doran and Elia.
Over the last couple of days, Joanna watched how well Jaime and Elia got along. If the Dornish Princess was in favor of the match, which Joanna believed she was, then she knew Prince Doran would be hesitant to break it out of the love he bore his sister. Despite the tempting offer the crown could make, Aerys wasn't without detractors, and more than a few nobles were wary of his erratic behavior.
"You sound confident."
"I am," Joanna saw her husband raise his right eyebrow at her, understanding the expression and knowing she'd explain it to him when they were alone.
"And if he refuses our match again?" Gerion asked, "I mean our king isn't always one to let wisdom rule when he prefers spite."
"The King has another son."
"Prince Daeron?" Kevan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is he any better than a hedge knight?" It was Kevan's voice, but Tywin's words. "He does not even have Summerhall like previous spare Targaryen princes."
"That could change," Joanna kept her answer and her tone vague enough to get her husband's interest. She succeeded seeing as it perked his curiosity by the look he was giving her.
"Leave us," Tywin ordered calmly, eyes not leaving her face.
Kevan stood up quietly and obediently, Tygett grumbled but got to his feet, and Gerion shrugged as if he didn't want to be there anyhow, grabbing his wineglass as he left.
"You have something in mind," a hint of amusement in his voice, the gold flecks in his green eyes seem to shimmer. Only speaking once the door closed behind his brothers.
"I do," she answered with a smile.
He raised his hands, gesturing he was listening to what she had in mind.
"The Prince has no lands, but that could be changed," she said, "We could change it," she saw a flicker of understanding come to her husband's face, but he kept silent, "Castamere."
"Castamere?" Tywin's voice was soft and harsh.
"Yes," Joanna persevered through her husband's bitter memories. "A Targaryen bannermen to Casterly Rock," she knew the idea sat well with Tywin with how his eyes took to it, "His children with Cersei would be the best candidates for Rhaegar's children when it would come to future marriages. Lannister blood would still sit atop the Iron Thone."
"Cersei deserves to be Queen."
"She may not get it, Tywin," Joanna told him softly, and she could tell that bit of truth had been realized by him too, and he hadn't liked it.
"We will consider it," he finally said, "But Rhaegar is our first choice."
"Agreed," she was pleased to do it. "And what of the betrothal between Jaime and Princess Elia?"
The corner of his lips tugged upwards slowly, "I can tell this has your full support."
"It does." She had no reason to lie. "I think it a good match."
"Your reasoning was sound," Tywin nodded, but he didn't elaborate on which way he was leaning.
"If that's not enough, Tywin, then do it for our son's happiness."
To others such a plea to Tywin Lannister would have them scoff and question her intelligence, but they didn't know her husband, like she did. After all it was the happiness and love they felt for another that inspired their marriage, not family obligation. A truth, she was thankful for, and one she felt she needed to remind her husband on occasion especially when he got too consumed by family and legacy.
"Jaime would be happy and thankful," she continued, "It's a better political marriage then ours." She raised an eyebrow at him as if waiting for him to try to challenge the truth in her statement.
"Would it be such a sacrifice for our family, for our legacy, to see our son happy on his wedding day, to love the woman he's going to marry?"
Tywin took her words in silence, eyes searching her face, lips forming a thin line, a look of reflection covering his expression. After a few heartbeats of quiet contemplation, he spoke, "I'll prepare a message for Prince Doran."
Cersei:
I'll never leave these chambers.
That had been Cersei's vow since she had been told that her betrothal between herself and her prince, Rhaegar had been denied.
If I cannot be a Queen then I'll be no man's wife.
A storm fueled by her anger had gone through her chambers, nothing had escaped her wrath. She howled when she ripped and tossed her clothes. Glasses, figurines, had been thrown and broken which lay scattered across the floor. The curtains of her bed, hung limply, torn looking as if attacked by a savage beast.
Let the Rock tremble in my rage!
Looking at the damage she had done to her room, she couldn't help but feel pleased. A small consolation to the injustice done to her, but she couldn't deny the pride at seeing her wroth unleashed. It spoke to her power, and what a terrible thing her anger could be.
To her shame, it wasn't anger she had first felt at learning about the dismissed betrothal, but grief.
Cersei scrubbed at her tear stained cheeks, not wanting any lingering evidence of the weakness she felt when her betrothal to Rhaegar had been denied. She moved to the broken mirror on her vanity, a portion of the glass had shattered and pooled around the furniture to resemble a crystal puddle. The bottom portion of it remained so that she could inspect her appearance, however, she had to crouch to use it.
Red rimmed, puffy eyed, tear streak cheeks looked back at her.
This isn't me, she backed away from the reflection in disgust. I am a lioness not a scared little girl. She curled her lip in defiance towards the reflection of the weak, shameful thing that was staring back at her before turning away all together.
Lions don't cry, the cold, sharp voice of her father came to mind. A chilling reprimand that made her wince as if fearing he'd come to her chambers and see her in this state of disgrace.
Father also said I'd be Queen, she was reminded, but it might as well have been mocking her.
Cersei recalled how father had smiled the first time he had told her, she was seven or eight, he took her hand into his, and told her, One day, you will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he then squeezed her hand.
That was when he had smiled. She'd never forget it, the slow twitch of the lips before they curved up. The gold flecks in his eyes seemed to gleam, as he held her hand in his. She had returned that smile, grinning in confidence, soaking in her father's affection, savoring it as he gave it to her and her alone.
It was hers, and nothing or no one could take that from her.
From there on, it had been his promise, their secret .
Now, it is nothing but a memory to ridicule her.
She clenched her fists. You promised me the Crown Prince! Cersei had wanted to scream at her father. I was to be Queen! Wanting to lash out at him after so many years of telling her and promising her that his plan would work, she'd marry Rhaegar, and be his Queen.
But where was he?
Father hadn't even come to tell her himself that the betrothal had been declined. That duty had fallen on Aunt Genna. Father had locked himself in his solar with her uncles and mother.
You've failed him, a cold voice whispered, chilling the simmering anger that had roused up in her chest. Why would he see you? Why would he want to? The cold voice pressed on with its questions.
I didn't fail! She wanted to shout back, I didn't have a chance. Cersei found her back hitting the wall. Shivering, she slid to the ground, hugging her legs, and biting her lip, her eyes watering.
"Cersei?"
She only had enough time to blink away her tears before she heard the door open, looking up through a curtain of golden curls to see her brother walking towards her.
"Cersei?" He said again, voice low and filled with concern.
"Jaime," she whispered, a haze of sadness swirling in her mind.
"I'm here," he crouched in front of her before enveloping her in an embrace.
She had forgotten how warm he was, how well she fit in his arms, breathing in his scent, as she put her arms around him, feeling his breath upon her throat was enough to elicit a shiver of pleasure to go down her spine.
One person, two hearts.
"Jaime," she felt as if she could get lost in this moment, in his embrace. I still have Jaime .
That was when he pulled away.
"What is it?" she mumbled, she didn't understand why he let go. She wrapped her arms around herself to shield the sudden cold that came upon her.
"It's nothing," he stood abruptly, a flicker of conflict dancing across his handsome face, before he shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever trance he seemed to be. "I-I just haven't hugged you since…"
"Ah," Cersei didn't need him to trail off awkwardly to understand what it was he was referring to.
"I heard about what happened," he scuffed his boot against the floor, "I'm sorry," he offered her his hand.
Cersei didn't take it. I'm not the weak damsel, brother. She gathered up her dress and got to her feet, ignoring his hand.
He pities me, she realized, and that disgusted her. I'm as strong and brave as you. She wanted to snap, but she restrained herself, seeing him before her, it wasn't comfort she felt coursing through her, but anger.
"I would've come sooner, but I was with Elia."
The informal way he spoke her name on his tongue was a bitter thing for Cersei to hear. "Elia," Cersei repeated the name mockingly, pleased to see him frowning at her. That's right, brother, I can fight too.
"Yes," he said nothing else.
"And she's more important than me?" Cersei snapped, "Your sister?"
Jaime didn't shrink or step back in the face of her wrath, nor did he cow to her like she was used to, "Elia is to be my wife," Jaime didn't bother to hide his smile or the way his eyes seemed to light up at his declaration.
"WHAT?"
Jaime smirked at her anger. "It is not official yet, Father only just sent a raven to Sunspear," he explained, "But Father spoke to me about it, and Mother talked to Elia," that smirk melting into a smile.
That smile which he used to give her, only for her, and now Cersei had to watch as it was intended for his precious, plain Dornish princess. How could he be happy when she was so miserable? They were supposed to be two hearts, one body…
"Prince Doran will meet father's terms," Jaime went on, oblivious to Cersei's righteous anger, "Elia was confident of it," he chuckled.
"Is that why you're here?" Cersei growled, "Come to gloat?" she relished the look of confusion that flashed across his face. He really was a fool, she thought, Elia can have him. I was a fool to think he could replace Rhaegar.
"No," he recovered, "I've come to say goodbye, Cersei." He stood up straighter, "Prince Daeron invited me to court, and father approved. I'm leaving with him tomorrow."
"GET OUT!" Cersei screamed, looking around at something to throw at her stupid brother. Her eyes landed on a vase, scooping it up, she hurled it at Jaime, who ducked as it careened over him before smashing into the floor. "Get out!"
"Now there's the mad dragon, Aerys would've wanted as his good daughter," Jaime japed, unbothered by her rage.
"Out!" Cersei howled. His indifference to her anger only fueled it, like kindling to a burning fire.
"I'll miss you too, sweet sister," he glided out of her room, before she could find another object to throw.
He got his princess, but she was denied her prince? She glared at the door he left from, her heart thundering like a war drum.
Where was the justice in that? Where was the wisdom?
Now her brother was leaving to go to the capital while she was stuck in the Rock?
I should be going to King's Landing.
That was where her prince was. Cersei knew that if she had time with Rhaegar, she could make him want her, love her. To convince his father of the merits of a match between them.
A sudden knock to her door pierced her thoughts on her future in the capital with Rhaegar.
"Cersei?"
"Tyrion?" She was surprised to hear her brother's voice on the other side of the closed door, since it was past his bedtime.
The door opened slowly, Tyrion's misshapen head poked through, "Cersei," his voice soft, and sleepy. He slid into her room, garbed in his red and gold sleeping attire.
"Tyrion, why are you not in bed?"
"I couldn't sleep," He didn't meet her gaze, eyes transfixed on the floor, "I-I heard about what happened," he said timidly, "I wanted to make sure you were alright." He looked up at the last part, mismatch eyes shimmering with sincerity.
"Oh Tyrion," her voice cracked at the love and concern her brother had for her. Unlike Jaime, she thought bitterly, her twin was happy to leave her for the capital with his princess.
She pushed those infuriating thoughts aside so that she could focus on her tenderhearted brother. Cersei cut the distance between them to wrap her youngest brother into her arms. Who would've thought that it was by holding Tyrion in her arms did she find some peace, feeling the weariness and frustration melt away.
"You spoil me," She kissed the top of his head.
He giggled, "I'm your, brother," he reminded her, "It's my duty."
Cersei laughed, "Is that so?"
He bobbed his head up and down.
"And it's my duty to see you back to your chambers," Cersei ignored how he pouted at that, "Before mother or father find out you've been sneaking around."
He ducked his head, fearful at getting caught especially by father. "It was only just this once."
"I know," she soothed the concern with a brief hug. "They'll hear none of this from me."
"Thanks!" He grinned.
She wondered if Jaime had been brave enough to tell Tyrion that he was abandoning them to go off to the capital. Cersei squashed the idea of asking her baby brother about it, not wanting to ruin the mood by bringing up Jaime.
"Come," she lifted him off the ground. "It's time for bed," She stood up, carrying him. "And this time you need to stay in bed."
He yawned, "I will."
"I know you will."
They were nearly to her door when he spoke again. "You'd be a great Queen."
Cersei felt tears swell in her eyes at her brother's encouraging words.
"Someday," she said softly, unsure if Tyrion had heard her or not. She left her chambers with him in her arms, "Someday."
Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com
Joanna:
"You wanted to see me, mother?"
"I did," Joanna's hands still holding the letter from her husband.
The time has come, her husband's voice whispered to her. She was expecting this day for some time, but it didn't make it any easier.
Putting aside her own feelings on the matter, she turned to see her daughter standing before her, a curious hue in those bright green eyes. Cersei had flowered and was maturing into a beautiful young woman, golden hair cascading down past her shoulders, emerald colored eyes, fair skin, and a slender figure, that had entranced servants and visiting noblemen alike.
Far more beautiful than me, she thought wryly. It wasn't envy that came to her, but apprehension. Joanna knew what lurked in the hearts of men having experienced unwanted advances and fending them off when she was younger.
She had no doubt her daughter's beauty would entice many men, stirring their lusts and bringing with it unsolicited attention. They'd prey on her youth and ingratiate their way into her good graces with false charm and honeyed lies, before trying to worm their way between her legs.
The thought let alone the image of her daughter being victim to such vermin was enough for the Lioness of Casterly Rock to clench her fingers tightly around her husband's letter while a snarl threatened to slip past her lips. She smothered it, not wanting to show any frustration or concern in front of her daughter especially when she was about to send her off to the very place that bothered her so much.
She'll be safe, Joanna told herself, knowing Cersei's best shield from these men was the crimson and gold she wore, and of the roaring lion.
Only a fool would try to insult House Lannister. At that thought, relief and gratefulness filled her towards her husband, at their family's reputation that not only had he restored but had maintained. It was their family's unquestioned standing and power within the Seven Kingdoms that protected her and her children from those who would try to do them harm.
Built on the bodies of dead children, Joanna ignored the reminder, better theirs then mine . Not caring how cold that sounded, she loved her children and her family. She'd make no apology for that. Neither did her husband when he brought ruin to the rebellious Reynes and Tarbecks. They threatened their family's standing, and Tywin was bold and brave enough to answer-swiftly, and brutally. An answer that warned all that House Lannister was a family to be reckoned with.
She returned herself to the present to see she had her daughter's attention. Cersei's eyes drifted from hers and to the letter in her hand. A flicker of realization came to her face, lips parted as if to form a soft, oh, in understanding.
"Please, come sit," she gestured to the table, walking side by side with her daughter who already stood at her height, and was still growing. Joanna watched as Cersei gracefully slid into her seat, elegant in her movement, and poised in her posture, quietly waiting for her to continue.
"A letter from your father," Joanna didn't waste time, noticing how Cersei took to the simple sentence with unhidden interest, "He believes its time you come to court." She watched her daughter's eyes widened, a smile came to her lips, a bit of red to her cheeks, which Joanna suspected was due to certain thoughts on the Crown Prince.
"Truly?" Cersei breathed with unveiled excitement, eyes flashing, "When do I leave?" She sounded breathless with giddiness.
"In two days' time," Joanna ignored the slight pang in her chest at seeing her daughter's enthusiasm in leaving her and their home.
"Two days?" Cersei's smile which had been as bright as the sun suddenly dimmed. "Why can't I leave sooner?" Impatience seeped into her tone, and eyes darkened with annoyance.
"Your Uncle Tygett will be gathering a retinue of soldiers and knights to escort you."
Put out by the news, Cersei was smart enough to not further complain, and nodded her head in understanding, "Very well," she acquiesced, but with how her mouth curved, it was clear, she was doing it out of obedience and nothing else. "May I go pack?"
"You may," Joanna allowed, watching her daughter slip out of her seat and make a hasty, but still dignified retreat out of the chambers, it was at the door, that she stopped her daughter, "Cersei," she called, "You must tell Tyrion."
Cersei turned at that, elation discarded with a look of guilt flickering across her face, eyes downcast. "I-I had forgotten," she admitted sheepishly. She remained like that for a few more heartbeats, before Cersei raised her head, eyes determined, "I will tell him now." Her fingers fidgeting on the sleeves of her dress "Assure him that I'll write often," she continued, "and will insist to father that we visit when we can or he can visit us," her voice trembled at the last part. Knowing the challenge, it would be in convincing him to let Tyrion visit them in the capital.
"Good," Joanna comforted her daughter with a small smile, "He'll understand, but in time."
Cersei nodded, and left the chambers more burdened then elated.
Joanna had not meant to hamper her daughter's good mood, but Tyrion needed to be told. She remembered how poorly Tyrion had taken to Jaime leaving. An offer that had been sprung on them unexpectedly, a hasty decision being made that had Jaime suddenly leaving the Rock. Having only time to tell his younger brother, an hour or so before he left.
The reminder of what happened was enough for Joanna's heart to ache. Tyrion had cried, pleaded for his brother to stay with him, grasping his leg, begging and believing that if he did something differently than Jaime would stay with him. She remembered the anguish look on her son's face at seeing his brother in such a state, and knew that he was regretting the choice in that moment to leave Tyrion.
Tywin had not been pleased by their youngest's outburst. However, he was calm and almost gentle in his reprimand of Tyrion, taking him to the side, and quietly reminding him that as a pride, lions had to be strong for one another and that what Jaime was doing was to help make their family stronger. Tyrion always wanting to please him quickly wiped away his tears, absorbing everything that he said, before readily agreeing to do the same for the family when the time had come.
Joanna wouldn't forget her husband's response to that. A small smile before he then gently patted Tyrion on the back before telling him to hug his brother and wish him well in the capital. Which Tyrion promptly did. Tywin had then told Tyrion to continue with his studies and that he was expecting the reports by Maester Desmond to remain glowing even after Jaime's departure.
And they do, Joanna thought with pride, having been given similar reports each week by the maester. Her happiness towards her youngest curdled slightly when her thoughts returned to how Tyrion would take to Cersei leaving. They had always been close, a tight bond that only strengthened and grew when Jaime left for the capital, and she wondered and feared how Tyrion would react…
"Is this necessary?"
"It is," Joanna chose to ignore her daughter's sharp tone. She understood that Cersei was in a vulnerable and taxing state after having to tell Tyrion of her leaving for the capital. It did not go well, but regardless, Joanna had requested her daughter's presence after supper. The two had much to discuss and plan for Cersei's time in King's Landing.
Joanna had chosen to use the solar to hold this important meeting. She sat at the end of the table with her daughter sitting to her immediate right, candles flickered with light, and glowing embers burned from the hearth providing warmth. A glass of wine within reach of her while her daughter had to settle for lemon water, something she didn't care for if Cersei's envious glances towards Joanna's wine was any indication.
"You may be a lioness, but you walk into a viper's den," Joanna observed, "A rat's nest of intrigue and schemes."
"What does a lion fear of snakes or rats?" Cersei scoffed.
"Even a mighty lion can fall if pricked by a poisonous fang," Joanna sipped from her wine glass, "or have its pride lead it towards its own doom."
Cersei ducked her head.
"Your confidence is admirable, my dear," She said soothingly towards her daughter, placing a finger beneath her chin, and gently pushing up so that she could meet Cersei's eyes. "You have made us proud," She noticed the swell in Cersei's chest at the praise, "But do not mistake cautiousness for cowardice."
"I won't," Cersei assured her, determination shimmering beneath her green eyes.
"Good," she removed her hand from her daughter's chin, "Only a fool goes into battle without a plan, and I assure you darling, this is our battle."
"I'll get the betrothal," Cersei promised, "I can make Rhaegar love me."
"I do not doubt it," She agreed, "But the King has sent his friend across the Narrow Sea to look for a Valyrian bride for his son and heir." That had been in the most recent letter from her husband, informing her of Steffon Baratheon and his wife traveling in search for a bride for Rhaegar. That had prompted Tywin to decide it was time to bring Cersei to court.
"Across the sea?" Cersei sniffed derisively at that, "Foreigners?" Her tone haughty and dismissive.
"The Targaryens have married outside of Westerosi families before."
"It will not matter," confidence filled her daughter's tone, "The Crown Prince will not want some stranger once he sees and speaks with me." She straightened up in her seat, her poise assured, her eyes gleaming with images conjured in her mind, no doubt, of her successful betrothal between herself and Rhaegar.
"Is that so?" Joanna admired her daughter's confidence and could not fault it, but she did not like to see it lean too closely towards foolishness. A slip that needed to be corrected.
"There are other potential suitors already in the capital." She saw Cersei's confidence slip. "They've been around the Crown Prince for weeks if not months." Joanna didn't like to puncture her daughter's hopes, but she needed Cersei to understand the task ahead of them, and accept it may be more daunting then she envisioned.
"Lady Ashara Dayne has been there for a month," Joanna had heard stories of Lady Ashara's beauty which many considering her one of the fairest ladies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her brother and Lord of Starfall had already declined numerous requests for his sister's hand in marriage from suitors across Westeros. Trying to use his sister's famed beauty and his brother's friendship to the Crown Prince to secure a betrothal between his house and House Targaryen.
"A Dayne?" Cersei scoffed, but there was nervousness shimmering beneath her green eyes. She tried to mask it. "Our family has more wealth then they could dream of having!"
"True, but you forget that her brother is Rhaegar's closest friend and a sworn knight of the Kingsguard." She saw Cersei's pose falter, "The Daynes have also married into House Targaryen before. An advantage we do not have."
A bitter admission to make, and a disadvantage, they had to accept. Joanna put her dissatisfaction aside knowing it served as nothing more than a hindrance. She was determined to see her family not the Daynes win this pursuit of the crown prince. Despite her reservations on the match itself, Joanna understood her duty to husband and house.
This is the role we women play. Our duty to our fathers, husbands, families.
A role she taught her daughter, and a duty she imparted Cersei to embrace. Even when it meant that she'd have to endure the parting of her child. An acrimonious feeling that soured her stomach. Seeing Cersei leave for the capital was a difficult and a different farewell then the one Joanna had already experienced when Jaime left for King's Landing.
Jaime's future would bring him back to the Rock, to her. Even as a man and then a husband, and a father, and a lord, Jaime would still be a constant presence in her life for the remainder of her days, but not her Cersei.
Her daughter's departure from the Rock were the first steps down a different path that led away from Joanna. Cersei's duty would be to her husband, and to their new family. If it be with Rhaegar it would be Dragonstone and then King's Landing she'd call her home, no longer the Rock. She'd visit as is expected of a dutiful daughter, but they would be few and far between and only grow scarcer as they got older. A mother to her own children, with responsibilities that kept Cersei away from the Rock and towards her own family.
"Mother?"
"Hmm?" Joanna blinked back into the present, looking to see Cersei's inquisitive eyes on her. Chiding herself for letting such melancholy thoughts distract her. "My apologies dear," She smiled, hoping to temper her daughter's stare, "You were saying?"
If she was annoyed by having to repeat herself, Cersei didn't show it. "I was asking what else I needed to know."
"Oh?" That caught her off guard.
"Yes, mother," Cersei was earnest in her answer and in her expression, "I-I don't want to disappoint you and father."
"Darling," Joanna's heart ached for the fear she detected in her daughter's tone at the thought of disappointing them. Realizing Cersei's newfound concern must have stemmed from Joanna's talk of the Daynes and the other rivals for a betrothal with Rhaegar and of the very real possibility Cersei could fail to any one of these women.
Joanna moved her hands across the table and took Cersei's hands in her own. "Do not talk like that, not ever," She squeezed her daughter's hands, looking to see her words sinking in, "You understand?" she was pleased at the shaky nod she received.
"You will make us proud," her hands remained clasped with her daughter's, "especially if you listen to your dear mother," she saw a smile bloom on Cersei's face, a giggle followed that brought a matching smile to Joanna's lips.
"Now, where were we."
Rhaella:
"I'm a dragon!" Viserys padded across the floor on pale, chubby legs. Flapping his arms as if they were leathery wings and letting out roars.
Rhaella smiled from where she sat on the sofa. Where she had the perfect view of watching her youngest son's antics. Two years old and he was proving to be quite the handful. Viserys was temperamental and energetic in ways that his older brothers hadn't been. He left servants and guards scurrying after him when he was in the mood to play. While also having them endure his loud tantrums and protests when he was being willful.
He was quick to petulance when he wasn't given his way, complaining and crying, but he could smile and giggle with little provocation. It was with his older brother Daeron that Viserys was at his most well behaved, adoring his older brother, and following him around when he could and begging him to stay and play with him when he visited.
Daeron wasn't bothered at all by the attention or the affection of his younger brother. To Rhaella's pride and delight, Daeron had taken to the role of older brother with ease and enthusiasm, doting on Viserys whenever he could. Viserys seemed to soak it all up, and was quick to clamor for more, receiving little from his father or from Rhaegar, the former was a blessing as far as Rhaella was concerned. While the latter wasn't surprising, knowing how distant her Rhaegar could be.
However, he would visit and play his harp for Viserys when he would settle down or be quiet long enough to listen, but those times came more out of Rhaella's prodding then Rhaegar volunteering. Not that she faulted her eldest. He had responsibilities that Daeron didn't have with much more on his mind and his schedule, that kept him busy throughout most of the day and into the night.
"Your Grace?"
Rhaella blinked to see the newest member of the Kingsguard and the one assigned to her for the day, Ser Alliser Thorne. He was standing by the doorway, a guard dressed in the Targaryen colors at his side. The Crownland knight had been hand selected by Aerys to replace Ser Harlan Grandison who had perished defending the King in the Duskendale Uprising.
Tywin had suggested several knights for the prestigious opening including Prince Lewyn Martell of Dorne, but each one was rebuffed by her husband. Aerys' time in Duskendale had frayed his senses and churned his paranoia. He would not be malleable to Tywin's suggestions instead relying on his new spymaster, a eunuch from the Free Cities, Varys. Aerys had come to select the Crownland knight, Ser Alliser Thorne to fill the coveted position.
"Yes, Ser Alliser?" Looking to the knight, just over thirty, garbed in the white of his order. He was slim and strong, with black hair and black eyes, that stuck out in his pale armor. He was dour, but diligent in his duties with a sharp voice. Regardless, he took his role seriously, and most importantly Rhaella never had cause to doubt his skill or his loyalty.
"Word from the gatehouse," he informed her, "Prince Daeron has returned from his hunt."
Viserys exploded with a loud cheer at the news, babbling happily and smiling at hearing the return of his brother who he had clearly missed these last few days.
"Thank you, Ser Alliser," Rhaella smiled towards the knight, "Could you have him sent here when he arrives."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Ser Alliser bowed his head and escorted the guard out of the room instructing him of the message and making sure it was delivered.
She was surprised by the news of her son's return, having not expected him to return for another few days. He had left less than a week ago with a small retinue of guards and servants as well as his closest friend, Jaime Lannister, his sworn shield, Ser Gwayne Gaunt, and his newest friends, Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. The two of them having arrived at the capital some weeks ago with Lord Jon Arryn to allow his ward, Robert to see and send off his parents who were embarking on a search to find a bride for Rhaegar across the Narrow Sea on Aerys' behalf.
Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark hadn't been expected to stay in King's Landing for long once Robert's parents had departed, with Robert going back to Storm's End to act as Lord and Eddard to return to the north to visit his family back at Winterfell. However, an unanticipated friendship had been struck between the two wards of Lord Arryn with Daeron and Jaime with the four young men all being of a similar age.
A development that made Rhaella pleased, delighted at seeing Daeron with new friends and strong friendships. Before Jaime came to the capital, Daeron had few if any friends, having spent most of his time alone in the Red Keep, his companions or friends in the form of the knights and guards who protected him.
No boy should have that life, she thought, especially not her son.
It hadn't helped that while Daeron was alone, his older brother Rhaegar had a group of friends and admirers, squires and pages, who followed him around.
The arrival of Tywin's son and heir to the Red Keep had been an unexpected boon. Rhaella had been thrilled upon learning of the fast friendship that had formed between Jaime and Daeron while her son had been away at Casterly Rock to attend the tournament. Her gladness only deepening at seeing it firsthand and watching it grow these past two years.
In seeing them, it reminded her in some way of their fathers and the friendship they shared in their youth, along with Steffon Baratheon. Rhaella could still recall fondly of the times just after Aerys had been crowned King and had named his friend, Tywin to serve as his Hand. Back then, she, Aerys, and Tywin would get together for drinks either in Maegor's Holdfast or at the Tower of the Hand. There, Aerys would spin stories, entertaining and delightful that would bring laughter from her lips and smiles from the reserved Tywin. Her husband had a gift of charm once. He'd ply it well, and few if any were resistant to it.
How we've changed, she thought with a touch of sadness. Aerys friendship with Tywin fractured and seemingly damaged beyond repair. While her husband's time as a prisoner in Duskendale had leeched whatever charm and goodness that had once resided in him. Confinement had twisted him into a man who leapt at shadows, feared delusions, and cursed the whisperers whether real or imagined.
"Dae!" Viserys' excited greeting pulled her out of her thoughts in time to see Viserys running into the open arms of Daeron, who smiled and scooped him up.
"Hello, brother, miss me?"
"Yes!" He giggled when Daeron tickled him.
Rhaella watched her sons' interaction with a smile. Thankful at the affection between them. "You're back early."
"Aye, a rider tracked us down," Daeron revealed, all joviality he had just shared with his brother snuffed in an instant. "We were ordered to return."
This was the first she was hearing of this.
"Father summoned me."
Those simple words brought a shiver down her back. A testament to the man her husband has become. A tingling of pain bloomed from the bruises on her arms, another reminder of the cruel man her husband had shifted into. Rhaella brushed her hands across her sleeved arms, as if trying to soothe the pain that lingered, while also wanting to push down the memory that threaten to bubble up from Aerys' visit to her chambers the night before last.
"Ah, Your Grace, My Prince," the soft girlish voice of the Eunuch Varys brought her eyes to the door to see him standing in the doorway. Bald as an egg, dressed in rich, pale silks, his powdered hands clasped together in front of his bulging stomach, a smile on his smooth face, that curdled the Queen's stomach.
She had no love for her husband's newest member of his small council, Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, a eunuch from Lys. He boasted an impressive spy network throughout Essos that caught her husband's interest resulting him an invite to come to Westeros and to serve the king.
"Lord Varys," Rhaella made herself smile at the eunuch. "What a surprise."
"Your Grace," Varys bowed towards her before his eyes turned to Daeron who stood silent and sullen as he stared at the Eunuch, "My prince," he greeted smoothly, looking unbothered by Daeron's chilly reception, "I had heard you returned to the Red Keep, but I wasn't sure."
Daeron cut through Varys' poorly played humility, "Spare me, Lord Varys," Daeron had Viserys to his side, a protective hand on his brother's shoulder, while his eyes remained on the Eunuch. "We both know your birds sang to you of my progress throughout my return trip back to the capital."
Varys giggled, "your bluntness is refreshing, my prince," he ducked his head in deference, "You are right about my birds, but I'd be a poor spy master if they didn't sing to me."
"Lord Varys," Rhaella called to him, "is there something I can help you with?"
"Your Grace, such a helpful soul," his smile was sickly sweet when he turned to her, "I come with a message from the king. He has requested an audience with Prince Daeron and is awaiting him in the Great Hall."
"Then let us not keep him waiting."
"Ah, my son," Aerys greeted Daeron with a thin smile while his eyes held a suspicious hue to them as he took in the kneeling prince. The King of the Seven Kingdoms sat atop the infamous Iron Throne, a seat of steel and spikes, a skulking monstrosity that looked more like a beast than a chair.
It served as a testament to Targaryen dominion over Westeros, each blade that made the throne taken by Aegon the Conqueror and his sister/wives from their fallen and defeated foes. Forged by the dragonflame of Aegon's dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, it took nearly sixty days to hammer and carve the swords into the Iron Throne that stood before them. Steps of steel swords etched into it to make the incline up to the seat itself, with the Iron Throne resting atop a platform, it towered over anything or person in the Great Hall.
A king should never sit easy, those were the words of Aegon the Conqueror on his decision in making the Iron Throne. She couldn't help but find them fitting as Rhaella looked up at her husband, seeing him squirm in the seat knowing the Throne had pricked and poked him, drawing blood with its unflinching touch multiple times in his reign.
"Father," Daeron greeted the king cordially.
Upon arriving to the Great Hall, she noticed her eldest Rhaegar was already there, standing quietly off to the side with Ser Arthur Dayne at his side. He had greeted her with a nod and a small smile. Standing at the base of the Iron Throne were the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower on one side and Ser Jonothor Derry on the other.
Rhaella had chosen a spot off to the side of the Iron Throne as it loomed above her. Choosing a position that would allow her to see the interactions between her husband and their children clearly. The Hall was empty, and she found herself grateful for that. Not having to be watched and judged as she listened or reacted to whatever reason her husband had decided to summon her sons. It was a small mercy, but one she savored all the same.
What is the meaning of this, husband? She wanted to ask of her brother, trepidation stewed in her stomach, a chilly finger of unease trailing down her back at trying to figure out what her husband was planning. A difficult task as it forced her to sort through his delusions and madness. Over the course of the past year, his reign was marred by cruelty and fear.
Whatever it was, she knew her husband well enough to know this wouldn't be good. Masking her worry as she looked towards her silent sons, neither speaking or addressing the other as they stood below their father beneath the Iron Throne. She knew it was no accident this summons location was here, a chance for Aerys to remind them all of his position as their king and them his loyal subjects.
Aerys' silvery hair fell past his shoulders in a tangled, matted mess. The King having refused any bath or groom since he escaped Duskendale. His finger nails had grown long and dirty, an unkempt beard covered his face with the tip of his beard nearly reaching his chest. Pale sunken eyes looked out from his unwashed face, looking down at his son before him.
"Forgive my delay, father," Daeron apologized, still kneeling, "I rode as quickly as I could."
She could see her husband enjoyed holding this power over their son. "You may rise."
Daeron quietly obeyed, standing straight, his hands behind his back, his eyes staying on the Iron Throne after only a brief flicker in his brother's direction.
"I have a gift for my sons," Aerys snapped his fingers.
Duskendale should have been your grave, she thought darkly. Discovering nothing good had come from rescuing her husband from his prison within the walls of the crownland port. Rhaegar was ready to rule, he was fit and just and could guide Westeros to a brighter and prosperous future. Instead Aerys was saved and now he plagued and worried the capital and the Seven Kingdoms of his growing paranoia and obsession with delusion and flame.
The Gods mock my prayers, she thought bitterly. She had prayed for deliverance from her husband's clutches when he was taken prisoner. A selfish admission, but one she made freely. She sought peace and freedom, and knew she'd never feel such relief if her husband's shadow remained cast over her. She had prayed before to the Gods when she was freshly betrothed to her brother, hoping for a way out of her marriage, but one never came.
The Gods had been silent to her pleas. So Rhaella did what was expected of her, she did her duty to her parents and married her brother for the good of Westeros and of House Targaryen. Just like before, the Gods didn't answer her and after months of confinement Aerys returned to her. Another chance of separation snatched from her, and she believed herself punished by said quiet gods at the monster her husband became, and the treatment that followed by his hand.
Her finger gently brushing across a bruise that he left upon her arm, she had been sore and weak from his ravenous groping. The only solace she had was after he finished was that he left. There in the darkness, bruised and in tears, she understood she was receiving an answer to her prayers. This punishment for her sinful thoughts and hopes of a life away from her husband.
" Dark Sister," Daeron gasped in astonishment.
Rhaella looked to see a servant had walked out from the Small Council chambers, carrying a plush and velvet pillow, black and red stitching, with no doubt the Targaryen dragon emblazoned on it. Atop the pillow rested the famous valyrian steel sword of her ancestors, Dark Sister .
"That's right, my son," Aerys sounded pleased that he had correctly guessed it.
Upon hearing the sword's identity, Rhaegar looked to the famous valyrian steel sword of their ancestors with great interest.
"One sword," Aerys announced, "but two sons." He smiled through his silvery beard, showing his yellowing teeth. "That is why I have decided only the strongest, and most skilled of my sons will have the honor of being given Dark Sister."
No, Aerys, Rhaella wanted to scream at her husband. The cold creep of understanding crawling up her spine as she saw through her husband's schemes and what it meant for her beloved sons.
Aerys stood up, "A week from now, you my children will fight and prove your worth to me in a duel of single combat; with the victor being granted the right of this sword for it to remain with them and their heirs."
They want it, fear gripped her heart with icy claws. Neither of her boys protesting their father's decision. Her eyes darting to their faces first to her eldest, Rhaegar, whose expression was contemplative and then to Daeron, whose look was determined. It was Dark Sister they wanted. Neither looked to have any qualms with fighting each other to get the famous weapon, and in the process to earn some small amount of favor from their father.
What have you done? Her eyes moved to her husband, her stomach turned at seeing the look that passed across his face. The smile that curved from beneath his mangy beard or the way his eyes seemed to dance in the torchlight.
Instead of their sons coming together to challenge their father. He brought them into conflict with each other, strengthening his position while weakening theirs. A show of power. He was going to tear their family apart.
He was pitting their children against each other for his own gain and she hated him for it. But not as much as she hated herself unable to defy him or shield her sons from his poisonous machinations.
In that moment, all she could do was watch and it broke her heart.
Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com
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