THE LADY - Jacaerys Velaryon

v. Observe

THE CASTLE WALLS were draped in decorations, red and black ornaments decking to ornate stone walls on the Red Keep in the name of prince Daeron's name celebration. Daella adored them. She thought they added colour to the rather dim and dark room.

"It looks gorgeous!" The young Tyrell girl squealed, twisting her head in every direction to catch a glimpse at the extravagant room.

Cyrelle rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest before speaking up. "I've seen better." She deadpanned, watching as her niece's excited behaviour dropped. Daella turned to look up at her aunt, a frown on her face.

"You need to watch what you say, one day you may lose your head." Daella replied curtly, twisting an auburn curl around her slim, ring adorned fingers.

"Please, little flower. They've been trying to behead me for years...hopefully they pluck up the courage and actually go through with it. I'm getting a bit tired of this cat and mouse game we're playing" Cyrelle drawled, dusting off the sleeve of her dress before staring forwards once more.

Daella sighed at her response. Her aunt was good at that. The wittiness. The fast replies. Daella couldn't even come up with a simple one word answer half the time, and her aunt is coming up with insults like her life depended on it.

A trait Daella wished to gain in the future from being mentored by the Lannister woman for so long.

But the future was a while away. And Daella was a child. And impatient child.

"How do you do that?" Questioned the green robes girl. Her hair pulled back behind her face, with a few curls framing her features, her dress clung onto her. Her sleeves long and flowing, making every movement seem like water, her skirt was embroidered with flowers, each one as pretty as the next. A fine dress. One of Daella's favourites.

"Do what?" The older woman asked, confused.

"The—the wit! Your brilliant! It's like you have every possible witty answer embedded in your mind already." The Tyrell exclaimed.

Cyrelle chuckled. "Practice my dear girl."

Practice. But it wasn't the practice of sword swinging, we're you clash and clang and you slowly improve until you finally get a hit. It was the practice of the mind. Silently observing people who don't normally get looked at so closely, watching their every twitch and reflex. Finding their weaknesses and using it against them. Practice that was take an incredibly long time.

"How does one practice for such a thing?" Daella asked, her nose scrunching as she squeezed her brain on an answer before it could be given.

Cyrelle shrugs before answering, her lips pursing as if she is trying to lock the information away and hide it on her tongue. "It takes time, little flower. You watch those who are more in thought about themselves then the care of their own house, you watch those who hide in the corner at celebration—tucking under crevices praying they will disappear into the shadows. Those who protect us, those who control us. You observe. You watch as their eyes twitch whenever a topic is brought up, as their hands shake when coming towards a certain person. You keep your wits about you, because your not the only one watching."

"You play games with those who believe they have a chance at winning, you give them hope that one day they'll catch you off guard so they can watch as you get stomped underneath their foot. You find out information from those who are believed to be less than us, who we put more trust in than our own allies because who will they tell? The rats that live in their streets? You target the servants who you can tell despise their lord or lady, and sympathise with them, and they give you everything you need. People put trust in those who correspond with their thought. Because why would you betray them when they can drag you down with them.

"It is a game, Daella, all of it. If you choose your players correctly then you will be moved forward. If you choose wrongly, you will have men battling for you head." Cyrelle said, before turning to Daella.

"Once you become of age, you will play a game many dedicate their lives too. A Game Of Thrones. You will watch as houses crumble and rise. All of them wanting the same thing. To have their blasted blood placed upon that bloody chair of melted down metal and bad  luck, because no matter how smart you are, how skilled you are with a sword. Those who hold the power, will always rise above. But, those who hold the power of wit can always make the leader wallow in self doubt and anger.

"Because, little one, when you play the game of thrones you either win, or you die, there is no middle ground."

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Short chapter but you'll live. I wanted to show how wide and smart Cyrelle was. And how her personality will slowly help Daella develop in the future chapters

Also I had an idea while playing minecraft abt using Cersei's line for Cyrelle to show that Cersei admires her ancestors ig.

And it's a cold line and makes Cyrelle even cool than she already is...so whatevs.

ALSO DONT BE A SILENT READER I LOVE TO KNOW UR REACTIONS AND ANY IDEAS YOU HAVE ON HOW TO IMPROVE THIS BOOK.

Also Jacaerys next chapter, yay!

LOVE YAS.