𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤 of green steel greeted me when I returned to my chambers late the next day. "Has something happened?", I asked, concerned to find Cersei in this place at such an hour with a grim expression on her face. "Should I answer that question honestly or lie as you did?", Cersei returned, her voice cold. Taken aback, I waited for her to elaborate, although I already sensed where this was going. Upon seeing that I wasn't going to reply, Cersei let out an annoyed sigh and continued in that icy tone she usually only took on at court. "You see, Varys has just told me the most interesting thing... one of his little birds happens to be Loras Tyrell's lover, and Loras had quite a story to tell him yesterday. Apparently, he is to be a man married soon. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" I swallowed hard. "Cersei..." She raised a hand to stop me and continued. "At first, I thought maybe your sister told you, and maybe she only told you today, so you would have talked to me about it when we saw each other again. But then I remembered your face yesterday, before you told me you heard nothing of interest. Before you lied to me." She got up from the chair she had been sitting in and walked over to me. "You saw it, didn't you? When they plotted it? You saw it and then you lied to my face about it without a moment of consideration." Her face softened, unable to uphold her anger anymore. Beneath it was only disappointment, and that hurt me much more than any of her blade-like wrath ever could. "We need to be able to trust each other, Vallery. You yourself asked me to be honest with you, and the first chance you get, you break that promise. I don't ask that you hold yourself to that vow if it pains you, but you have to understand that I do not forgive easily, and even to you, I will not give infinite chances. You can now explain why you lied to me, and I hope you will at least be sincere about your reasons, or tell me to leave." I knew she didn't just mean leave for the night. "I love you, Cersei", I began. "And I know that I'm a hypocrite for withholding such information when I judged you for the same thing, and I couldn't be more sorry about that. It didn't feel good, it didn't feel right, and I did contemplate it, but... Sansa is my family, and she's miserable here, you know she is, and this might have been her one chance of getting away without significant insult to you, to your family. I couldn't betray her. I'm sorry." "But why did you think telling me would mean a betrayal to her? Why didn't you just explain to me then what you just told me? Did you really think I would run to my father and sell her out, or stop her myself, or do anything at all about it? I don't care about keeping her here, that's all Father, ever in need of hostages. You could have trusted me with this. Why didn't you?" Cersei's voice was almost sad now, and it broke my heart. "I'm sorry", I repeated. "I just wanted to protect my family, and I couldn't take any risks in that. Realistically, I know you would never have done anything to harm her. But with your, albeit involuntary, connection to Tywin, I was scared it would get out somehow." Cersei cupped my cheek. "I understand. I may not be on the greatest terms with most of my family, but I truly understand your wanting to protect your kin. Anyone would. Still, we are in an engagement that notoriously goes against all our relatives' wishes, so I have to warn you: there may come a day when you have to choose. It's a terrible choice, but not an unlikely one for us to have to make, and our consensus on it could very well be crucial to our survival when that day is here. I have made my choice, can you make yours?"

She didn't wait for me to answer, perhaps didn't expect an answer just yet. Walking over to the dresser, she poured two glasses of wine, handing me one when I followed after her - an offering of peace. "Here. You'll need this for the second part of what I came to say." What could be worse than the argument we had just had? "Tell me", I said, fidgeting nervously with the glass as we both sat down. "As you can imagine, Varys didn't just tell me what he had learned, he told the entire Small Council. And, as you correctly predicted, my father didn't exactly rejoice to hear of the young lovers." She laughed bitterly. "I won't bore you with the details. Point is: he held me back after the meeting and called my brother in to relate to us both his plan of action. Sansa will not be marrying Loras... I will." I choked on my wine. "She will be wed to Tyrion." Splatters of wine landed on the carpet as I coughed, forming little stains stark as blood against the white fabric. "What?", I exclaimed when I had regained my breath. Cersei nodded, sharing my appalment. "Apparently, it has come to the people's attention how much time we spend together, and the people talk. My dear father means to put an end to certain rumors about us by seeing me married off to someone with an equal stain on his reputation and, what's probably more important to him, a considerable amount of lands that would pass to my sons after his death." Dread filled me, not only at the thought of Cersei marrying and bearing children for Margaery's brother, but also at the rumors she had mentioned. "How come we haven't heard any of this talk about us?" "Rumors rarely reach their subject quickly", Cersei remarked. "But from the way Father made it out to be, half the country and their dogs have heard at least some little thing about the Queen Mother and her new favorite companion." I leaned back in my chair, staring into the wine that I was absent-mindedly swirling around. "Shit." "Precisely", Cersei replied. "Why Sansa?", I said after a while, lifting my head. Cersei looked at me in confusion. "Why marry her to Tyrion and not me?", I explained. "Do you want to be married to that lecherous little stump?", Cersei sneered. "No, I mean that your father would surely have arranged for this marriage to secure the North. But I am the key to the North after Robb, not Sansa. So why did he betroth her to your brother?" Cersei studied the wall opposite her. "My father's exact words on that matter are a detail I would have liked to book under 'irrelevant to the problem at hand', but since you ask so directly... I believe his literal wording was "The girl is easier to manipulate. We'll get rid of the older one somehow soon enough, once she's no more use as a hostage." I guess he intends to marry you off to some lesser lordling or send you to the septas or something after Tyrion has laid claim to the North through your sister so you'll no longer be a threat." I misliked the sound of everything Cersei had just said. "Why would I be no more use as a hostage, though? My brother Robb might still treat with him, and as long as he's alive, the North is his, anyways, not Sansa's or mine." Cersei shrugged, a defeated gesture. "I don't understand his plan, either, but when has my father ever been transparent about his work? I feel like he relies entirely on your brother to lose the war very soon and on you not to lay claim to his kingdom, but he isn't a man to put all his faith in chance. Whatever he has planned, he does not trust his own children to know about it, so it must be truly ingenius", she mocked. I wasn't entirely convinced, but I knew Cersei couldn't be swayed in her self-righteous confidence that nothing bad could ever happen to her, and I didn't want to risk picking another fight. "So what happens when you marry Loras?", I asked quietly. Her silence was audible. "I suppose I'll go to Highgarden", she finally replied. "I doubt I'll be allowed to go with you, will I?", I probed. Cersei laughed. "That would serve Father right, wouldn't it? He sells me off to stop people from assuming we're together and you just go and accompany me. Technically, no one could stop you from going - you aren't officially a hostage here, and I don't think my son has any reason to forbid you from staying with me, unless of course his grandfather whispers in his ear. If you were to ask Joffrey alone, it might actually work out. Father will be furious, of course, but I don't much mind that. As I said, I've made my choice."

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Life's irony was astonishing sometimes. After all the times Cersei and I had dreamed how we might find a way to get married some day, it was my sister who now bore the Lannister name - and didn't particularly succeed in overplaying her plight. I was not sitting with Cersei at the feast, we had both agreed that for now at least, we had to be more careful as to not further Tywin's suspicion. Obviously, we couldn't cut all public contact either - that would have been even more obvious than continuing our intimacy as before - so I had stood by her side at the ceremony, but sat with the other highborn ladies at a table opposite from hers, on the other side of the dais. For all the misery that Sansa was, sitting at the center of attention, her new husband seemed to be enjoying himself greatly. Tyrion was downing cups of wine like other men breathed and was, as a result, very drunk in a very short time. Cersei already looked tired of the whole ordeal, lounging in a chair next to her son with a wine glass in hand that she, too, made frequent use of, though not nearly as excessively as her brother. In the meantime, Tyrion had taken to filling his glass to the very rim without spilling, which he managed to do with surprising accuracy, given his state. He looked to Sansa for approval, but she only turned away, embarrassed by his behavior. Checking his image in a polished silver plate, he started emptying the glass he had filled, now looking properly bored. I imagined it must have been quite an awkward situation for the two, sitting through the entire feast without saying more than a few words to each other because they simply had nothing to talk about. Tyrion was nearly thrice Sansa's age - not so different from Cersei and I, I realized with a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed the thought away - and couldn't be farther from her where personality was concerned. Sansa was good, kind and dutiful, she was virtous and strived to fulfill her role in society as best she could, whereas Tyrion was profligate, hedonistic and careless, his intelligence did not excuse his deviousness. I pitied my sister as I watched her, sitting like a lost bird by the side of the man she was to spend the rest of her life with, not knowing what to even say to him on the first night of many of their married life. When Tyrion spilled the wine all over himself and wiped his mouth on the tablecloth, his father appeared to have had enough by the looks of it, as did Sansa. She whispered something to him and upon his drunken reply, got up from the table to leave. A movement from the other side of the dais caught my eye. Joffrey immediately made to go after my sister, no doubt to torment her further as he would always get to do now, with her tied so conveniently close by marriage. Cersei seemingly tried to hold him back, but when had she ever been known to deter Joffrey from something he had fixed his mind on, as had anyone for that matter? He pulled free of her hand and stalked after Sansa, like a predator toying with his prey. Cersei cast me a worried glance from across the room and got up as well, leaving the hall by another exit. 

The Lannister table was left entirely deserted when Tywin went to join his son, reproachful eyes looking down at him. Still, Tyrion looked rather humorous, if not slightly impatient. After a few more seconds of their banter, which included theatrical gestures on Tyrion's part and annoyance on Tywin's, the Lord of Casterly Rock grabbed his son's wine glass from him and slammed it down onto the table. Most likely, Tywin was displeased with how much Tyrion was drinking - although this wasn't exactly a novelty. Tyrion spat out the wine he still had in his mouth and gave something between a pout and a frown while his father shook some droplets that had spilled off his hand and returned to his seat. Sansa had hardly been away a minute when Joffrey, having apprehended her behind the doors, led her back into the hall. She was visibly uncomfortable as he talked to her, or rather at her, since she wasn't given much of a chance to reply, not to mention to actually express any opinion. Joffrey smirked at her viciously one final time and turned around, stepping toward the ballustrade and clapping to get the guests' attention. "Time for the bedding ceremony", he declared, rousing a few scattered cheers. "There will be no bedding ceremony", Tyrion slurred as Joffrey tugged Sansa down the staircase, back to her table. "Where's your respect for tradition, Uncle? Come, everyone, pick her up and carry her to her wedding bed! Get rid of her gown, she won't be needing it any longer." Sansa subconsciously hugged herself at his words, clutching the dress to her body. "Ladies, attend to my uncle. He's not heavy." "There will be no bedding ceremony", Tyrion repeated before the women could begin to chuckle at Joffrey's remark. "There will be if I command it", Joffrey insisted. Where was Cersei? She might not have been able to control the young king, but he was less likely to give freedom to his raving cruelty in her presence nonetheless. Tyrion, to everyone's shock, pulled out a dagger and plunged it into the table where it stuck upright, softly reverberating from the impact. For a moment I had thought he meant to use it against his nephew, but even Tyrion wasn't that drunk. "Then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock." The hall fell utterly silent save for the scraping of Tywin's chair as he rose. "What did you say?" When Joffrey's voice was this quiet, whoever he was talking to was playing a very dangerous game. "What. Did you. Say?" "I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace", Tywin came to the rescue. "I'm sure Tyrion did not mean to threaten the king." While Joffrey was still seething, Tyrion broke into wheezing laughter, finally letting go of the knife. "A bad joke, Your Grace. Made out of envy of your own royal manhood." He flicked the dagger and looked down at himself. "Mine is so small", he drawled. "My poor wife won't even know I'm there." "Your uncle is clearly quite drunk, Your Grace", Tywin intervened again. "I am", Tyrion admitted freely. "Guilty." He hastily drank another sip, as if to prove his father's point. "But... but it is my wedding night. My tiny drunk cock and I have a job to do." His chair scraped against the floor loudly as he dropped down and waddled over to Sansa, swaying as if he threatened to topple over at any moment. He did, in fact, slam into a table as he left the dais, but regained his balance quickly. "Come, wife." He beckoned for Sansa to follow him. "I vomited on a girl once in the middle of the act - not proud of it", he recounted. "But I think honesty is important between a man and wife, don't you agree? Come, I'll tell you all about it, put you in the mood." 

I watched as my sister and her newly-wed husband left the hall to do their duty to each other. The only mood I had been put into was vomiting the way Tyrion allegedly had. Suddenly, Cersei came up behind me. "Come", she whispered in my ear, her breath hot against my skin that had gone frigid during the unfolding scene. "No one will notice if we sneak off now." I discreetly pulled back my chair and disappeared in the crowd, following Cersei's golden curls as I pushed through the people. "Won't your father see that we're both gone?", I whispered when I caught up to her in the corridor. "Let him", she said. "I think plenty of people left after what just happened, you'd certainly have every reason to, and my return wasn't even noted in the first place. Besides", she put her arm around my waist and pulled me closer, "I've waited long enough. If Tywin Lannister thinks he can keep us apart with a few threats of rumors, he had bloody well think again."