My pride and my grief: For my sister...A Jaime Lannister Story

Ch-19:- Cracks in the surface

Steffon wished he could run away from here. He had come with Cassana and Robert all the way from Storm's End to Casterly Rock. He had been looking forward to meeting his childhood friends Tywin and Aerys, the latter of who was his sovereign. He had not expected such a chilly welcome, hoping, perhaps, that their old friendship had lasted.

While Tywin seemed friendly enough, in his serious, somber, way, Aerys was a man changed. So, here he was, on bended knee, swearing fealty to a man who had been his friend, watching as a flash of unknown emotion flickered in his eyes.

His queen looked as sedate and graceful as ever. Tywin Lannister was dutifully performing what was needed of him as Hand, yet Steffon could see hardness in his green gold eyes. Rising when the King bid him to, Steffon almost cringed. The Realm has suffered all horrors imaginable because of the whims of Targaryens. Steffon hoped that Aerys's reign, which had begun with such promise, does not disintegrate into ashes...

Rhaella kept her eyes decorously down as she emerged from the Great Hall of Casterly Rock, accompanied by the Kingsguard Ser Jonothor Darry. 'Ser?' She called to him. The man jerked to attention, turning to her. 'Your Grace?' He asked. 'I would like to go for a walk.' Rhaella stated.

Obediently, the knight fell into step behind her. She walked quite slowly, taking her time. As she neared a relatively secluded place in the gardens, she heard the clack-clack-clack of wood clashing against wood. Intrigued, she strode towards the source of the sound.

She heard childish laughter, and another child sighing, and then calling, 'I cannot, Cynthia!' Cynthia? Thought Rhaella. Cynthia was Joanna's daughter. She stopped her steps completely when she heard the girl's voice answer, 'No, you can, Rhaegar. I can, can I not? Hold the sword like this-' Rhaegar? She was even more puzzled at that. Her Rhaegar, playing with swords? She edged closer, and saw. Rhaegar was standing rather awkwardly, sword in hand, Cynthia gently correcting him. Soon enough, Rhaegar's body adapted, and the children sparred.

Rhaella's head was a jumble of voices. Her husband's commanding her for the Prince Who Was Promised, and her son's earnest, childish voice, promising that Aerys would be well. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and went on her way, sensing that the children would not like to be disturbed.

After practicing swords for a while, Rhaegar stood and brushed the dust from his clothes. He took Cynthia's hand. 'Do you want to come to the library with me?' he queried, amethyst eyes shining. Cynthia shook her head. She could not understand the weird fascination her friend had for libraries, of all places.

Libraries were dark and dreary, filled with incomprehensible tomes. Rhaegar pleaded with her, until, at last, she acquiesced. There was nothing better to do, with Elia and Oberyn at Lannisport with Princess Arielle and Uncle Gerion, after all.

Rhaegar led her to a secluded corner in the already empty library, and selected a ponderous looking book. He was almost grinning ear to ear; the happiest Cynthia had seen him. 'You teach me swordsmanship, so it's only fair that I teach you something in return, too, Cynthia.' He pronounced. 'Huh?' she asked, uncomprehending.

'High Valyrian.' He explained. 'Would it be exciting?' Cynthia asked. He laughed. 'Maybe,' he replied. Together they sat, the silver price and golden lady, exploring the intricacies of the language of yore.

Elia and Oberyn were having a great time in Lannisport. Ser Gerion was very witty and courteous, keeping Mother's attention away from them. Oberyn was basking in the attention of the passing young ladies, as Elia searched for something exotic, to buy as a souvenir, along with Lady Lannister's children. So far, she was unsuccessful in both her pursuits, so she wandered along aimlessly.

Suddenly, a shimmering piece of fabric caught her eye. It was unlike anything she had seen in Dorne, though she was sure that it was fine silk. She went to her Mother, asking what it was, when Ser Gerion turned to her. 'Oh, that? It is specialty here, a blend of woven linen and silk. Has My Princess taken a fancy to it?' he enquired. Elia nodded. Bowing flamboyantly, he bought material for her. She stared it, mesmerized, for it shone like woven gold.

Arielle smiled at the Lannister knight. He was quite an engrossing character, quite unlike his staid, serious older brother. Most of the attention of the Lannister family (Except the Hand, of course), was focused on the golden twins, who had begun crawling some time ago.

Arielle, however, was more concerned about Aerys Targaryen, and had made her priorities quite clear, at which Ser Gerion laughed and replied, 'You would make good company for Tywin, My Lady. The pair of you, worrying about the Realm, while the rest of us enjoy summer.' At that, her mood brightened, and they resumed their tour of the Lannister stronghold.

Hoster Tully felt strangely content, swearing fealty to the King in the Hall of the Lions, though he was puzzled as to why the court was in Casterly Rock, and not King's Landing. He shook his head, reminding himself that King Aerys was a fair and just person, albeit a little eccentric at times. His was a reign of peace and plenty in the Seven Kingdoms.

Hoster was aware of the flourishing friendship between the Hand and the King. This is just so that the Lords Paramount could converse about matters important to the Realm, Hoster convinced himself. Tywin Lannister's wife had recently birthed twins, and Lord Tytos had died, rendering the Hand unable to leave the Rock for a while.

His thoughts turned to his wife Minisa, heavy with child herself. He planned to name the babe Edmure if a boy, and Lysenne if a girl. He hoped he would not miss the birth of the child, and wondered how Cat and Tansy were doing. Safe and happy, he reminded himself. Everyone is safe and happy...

'Muna' Cynthia pronounced the word carefully. It was High Valyrian for "Mother". Rhaegar smiled at her. 'Good.' He looked pleased. Learning the language was exciting, like a new secret. She swore to herself that she would not tell anyone.

She turned to Rhaegar, an impish grin on her face. 'Swear not to tell anyone?' she asked. 'I swear on the Old Gods and the New.' He answered solemnly. She bounded off then, alerted by a clamor in the front yard.

Rhaegar, meanwhile, picked up a book of prophecies. He was becoming very interested in the misty worlds within them, and he rifled the pages of the book until he came upon something that caught his attention. His eyes widened.

'The Prince Who Was Promised,' he decoded the High Valyrian carefully. 'Born beneath a bleeding star, amidst salt and smoke. Blood of the Dragon shall prove true, for he shall be the Prince Who Was Promised and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire.'

He recalled Father commanding him to be 'The Promised Prince.' He had not understood then. Now he did. The words swirled again and again in his head. He recalled the Tragedy of Summerhall, forever associated with his birth. There was a comet in the sky that day, he knew, for Aegon the Unlikely, his great grandfather,  had wanted such a day to hatch his dragons. Born beneath a bleeding star, amidst salt and smoke...