Careless Whisper | Willas Tyrell

O N E

      Cycelia had always been a beautiful child and much like her younger siblings took after her mother in terms of appearance. She had a peaches and cream complexion and deep set emerald eyes that seemed to stare into your soul. Golden curls cascaded down her slender back ending just above the curve of her bottom. She looked like her mother had as a child, but that was as far as the similarities went between the Queen and her oldest child. She was more gracious and kind by far than either of her parents could ever be, but temperament wise Cycelia took more after her late father who always had a smile for her and a chocolate.

      "A sweet for my sweet," King Robert would jest much to his wife's disdain. Cersei feared all the chocolates would go right to her child's thighs. It never did. Cycelia's sweet tooth did nothing to hinder her willowy silhouette which pleased Cersei to no end. She certainly had her mother's metabolism and hopefully would never sport a watermelon sized gut like her father. Nonetheless, she adored her father, and he her, which caused deep rivalry between herself and her younger brother, Joffrey, growing up. Now that their father was dead and buried with Joffrey crowned king he was a lot less irritating. Most of the time, anyway.

      "Do you wish to race, Celia? I bet I can beat you to the tree line," Joffrey was currently insisting making his dignified sister huff in irritation. She knew better than to deny him and pressed her heels to her mount's sides. The cobalt black mare shot forward startling Joffrey who let out a loud shout of annoyance before doing the same to his flashy chestnut. The gelding's legs were longer by far and it was no surprise when they pulled up on the horses at the tree line that Joffrey had won the short race.

      "Did you let me win?" Joffrey chided with a short laugh watching as their guards rushed to catch up. Those on foot were yards behind and fumbled in their heavy gilded armor across the meadow at a near run. The men on horseback caught up to the golden haired duo much more quickly.

      "Your horse is much faster than mine, brother. I assure you that I did not allow you to win. Where would my dignity be if I were to throw a race?" she joked in response which pleased him to silence. The siblings pulled their mounts around and started in a slow walk back towards the castle. It was a pity for Joffrey was much better of a companion here in the King's Wood. Once his blonde head reached the gates of King's Landing it would grow six sizes. Her brother might have been just that but he was incredibly pompous nonetheless.

      "Are you nervous?" Cycelia finally asked as they dismounted outside The Red Keep. The horses were led away by young stable boys who could be no older than sweet Tommen as Joffrey turned to eye her blankly, "Nervous about what exactly?"

      "Margaery Tyrell," she teased nudging his ribs firmly with her elbow which made him hiss in pain and swat at her blindly. She could not begin to explain why her brother let her pester him. He was an irritable and sullen young man, but he was never mean spirited to his older sister. He had a respect for her that he did not show to many others besides their mother.

      "Kings do not get nervous about women," was his only remark which made her eyes roll back in her head. She could not help the scoff that left her slightly chapped lips, "I'm sure. What shall you wear to the feast tonight? I was thinking black and gold."

      "Mother wishes for me to wear red," Joffrey mumbled looking only slightly frustrated by the aspect that his mother wished to dress him. He was a man of ten and seven, not some doll.

      "Mother isn't your owner. We can match one another and be the perfect pair. I'll even sit beside you at the High Table! Mother will be pleased," Cycelia offered linking their arms between them both as the pair darted for the castle steps. Joffrey's long legs took them two at a time forcing her to leap to keep pace. The siblings entered the stone threshold as a servant bowed deeply opening the double doors. They were immediately inside the throne room which was surprisingly empty.