voidofvalyria
(𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑐)
When Robert Baratheon dies three days after the Trident, the realm does not mourn long. It cannot afford to. There is still a kingdom to run, a throne to fill, and a Lannister bride already promised.
Roald Baratheon never wanted to be king. He wanted his brother alive. He wanted the Dornish match that had been arranged for him, the life that had been planned. Instead he gets a crown that doesn't fit, a council full of agendas, and a wife who looks at him like she is already calculating the distance to the exit.
Cersei Lannister never wanted this husband. She wanted Jaime. She wanted the story she had written for herself since childhood. Instead she gets a man who is not Robert - not cruel, not drunk, not wandering - a man who comes to her door every night without fail and stays until morning, who builds glass houses in winter and calls it governance, who looks at her like she is the only interesting thing in a room full of interesting things.
She finds this infuriating.
She finds this, slowly and against every intention, something else entirely.
This is the story of a marriage that neither of them chose, built year by year from argument and jealousy and five children and the quiet, stubborn faithfulness of a man who decided at the altar what he wanted and never once looked elsewhere - no matter how many ladies of the court arranged themselves in his path.
The court whispers that the king never strays.
Cersei already knows.
She has the evidence every morning.