Wolf and Flame
☽ ◯ ☾
years ago.
SHONE LIKE GOLD, The Queen's hair. She admired herself in the looking glass and she thanked the gods for the resemblance between her and her cubs...all except one. The Baratheon King had taken much from her, even his blood felt entitled to her firstborn. She grimaced at the thought of the silky black locks that haunted her so. How her other children's hair gleamed especially when next to the black of her eldest. Like a raven hawking the truth and yet her husband by law seemed deaf to its warnings.
"Your Grace?" One of The Queen's many servants appeared in the frame of her door with wringing hands and a downcasted face. Peeved, Her Grace demanded the girl get over her apprehension. She had no time for timidness, yet she relished in it. She was feared, there was no doubt of this, and fear was the greatest asset to a woman. Mankind does not maim, nor rape, a woman it is afraid of, it cowers at her feet.
"Spit it out." Queen Cersei insisted in a sarcastic singsong as she dropped her brush onto the golden, much like all her possessions, vanity. Which in turn made the timid girl flinch, much to The Queen's further vex.
"The princess...there has been an unfortunate incident that requires your attention." The girl finally persevered through her fear and informed Her Grace.
Cersei's heart sank without hesitation, "Myrcella?" She asked in an uncharacteristically frail voice. It was now her turn to do the wringing of hands. Fear, or more accurately paranoia, plagued the Lannister woman to where it was familiar, yet only her children could pervade her composure in such a way.
"No, My Queen...The Princess Dyane." The girl clarified in the slightest of awkward manners. "Between her and The Prince." A phrase commonly spoken.
For the second time The Queen's heart sank, "Did they get into another joust? Has she hurt him?" She stands with a hand over her stomach, as though she threatened to be sick.
Before the servant can dare to deliver her answer, Cersei is already gone, racing down the royal halls.
Gods damn this child, Cersei thought as she heard the tale, and she hadn't a clue which one she was referring to. Joffrey had done something cruel, or perhaps only morbidly curious, whether you had asked Cersei's opinion, so much so little Dyane had to be held back by the arms of two squires as she kicked and screamed like a baby goat with hate in her eyes. The two have never behaved civil with one another, Joffrey seemed especially uncaring of others even at such a young age, and Dyane was so easily provoked.
By the time Her Grace had made her rounds to The Princess's room to calm her, she has already heard the story twice over and did not care for it again. The King had already taken it upon himself to disciplined her boy, smacking him so hard he became without two of his baby teeth. Cersei had promised him another bastard for The King's strike, that cruel fool.
Nevertheless the girl of a mere 8 years continued to babble what borderlined on hysteric nonsense. To The Queen's even further vex. She tried hushing the girl, pulling her so close to her chest only to muffle her cries, but Cersei seemed cursed to endure, at least that was what she summarized as Dyane continued to wail much alike her first day.
"Mother! Have you've seen what he has done?" She shouted through her tears, desperately. "My Blackbelly!" She shouted again, mad with grief for her kitten that she loved dearly. It was merely a kitchen stray one of the bakers had been feeding scraps, Joffrey had sliced her open to see her kittens. The Queen defended him greatly, claiming boys his age were inquisitive over the sort of thing. The King disagreed.
"I vow to kill him dead!" She promised in a crazed cry, this startled Her Grace so much that she struck Dyane without another thought. Dyane held her cheek and peered up at her Lannister mother with a look of betrayal, in shock's stead. Cersei's eyes widened in a moment of sudden awareness.
If Dyane so vehemently desired to kill her brother Joffrey over a feeble cat, what would she do for the throne? And what sympathy would she have for the bastards of a mother who'd strike her so freely? Quickly the Queen took her eldest in her arms, soothing like a mother should have the natural impulse to.
"Hush now, my sweetling..." Cersei pressed a feather-soft kiss on the girl's forehead, "There'll be none of that." The queen smiled softly into the black locks that haunted her so, pressing another kiss there too. Like a prayer to appease angry gods, she vowed to the dark hair she'll atone for her indiscretions at the mercy of her golden children.
She never did atone as she had promised.
☽ ◯ ☾
SexyandShifty
╰┈➤ AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Haiiii :p do u guys like flashbacks? I think they provide some context for the characters and their dynamics. Also soz this took so long I kept scrapping ideas and got frustrated with my writing.
YOU ARE READING
Wolf and Flame
Fanfiction౨ৎ ˖° 𝐃𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 was unnaturally charming but not overwhelmingly so. Yet however charming the girl may be she was twice as odd. Whatever the nature of her strangeness, it seemed to haunt her with a lingering presence.