A Greyjoy. Myrcella was promised to a Greyjoy. Cersei had left her golden-haired daughter with her brother as a babe so that he might have a piece of her with him always, and this was how he repaid her? By garnering a betrothal for their only daughter to a barbarian? Isn’t it good news, m’lady? Your niece is to marry the heir to the Iron Islands.’ As if that made it any better. The future Lord of the Barbarian islanders was not a worthy match for her daughter. How could Jaime let such a thing happen? Surely he wasn’t pleased at having made this match? Especially when Ashara’s daughter had been given to a Targaryen - now that was an appropriate match for a Lannister. Even a Stark would have been better. Or Garlan Tyrell - he was said to be handsome, and more importantly he was the new heir to Highgarden.
Better yet he could have named her heir to Casterly Rock. Had the She-Wolf not made such a fuss over daughters being placed second in the line of the succession for the noble houses of Westeros? After their brothers but before their uncles. Myrcella should be Jaime’s heir, not that brat her father’s new wife had whelped. The possibility of her daughter inheriting the Rock one day had, in fact, been in the back of Cersei’s mind when she made the decision to leave her with Jaime. It was hardly a certainty with Tybolt ahead of her after all, but war had taken care of him for her. But not only had Jaime denied their daughter of her inheritance, he was giving her to pirates to be treated as little more than a whore, most like. That was not the life Cersei had imagined for her sweet daughter.
Sitting at a desk in her chambers, the lioness grabbed a bit of parchment and a quill, scratching out a note to her brother.
Word of your daughter’s betrothal has newly reached me. Is it true that she is to be Lady of the Iron Islands one day? Your wife must be pleased at such a match.
It has been too long since I have been home to the Rock, and with these wars over I think it may be time to visit home once more. Unless my husband protest I intend to leave within the fortnight. I look forward to seeing you and my sweet niece soon, dear brother.
Jaime would understand her intentions. Only his simple-minded wife could thing such a betrothal was promising. Perhaps this was her doing. How could such a woman have been left to decide the fate of Cersei’s own daughter? It had been foolish to trust Jaime to care for Myrcella all those years ago, she saw that now. But she would go to the Rock and make things right - Robert’s potential protests be damned. As if her husband could seriously prevent her from going home if she wished it.
Pressing the Baratheon seal into a bit of wax to close the letter, Cersei beckoned one of her ladies to come over, thrusting it into her hand. ”See to it that the Maester gets this sent at once. Go now.” Cersei sucked in a breath through her nose, pursing her lips and resisting the urge to furrow her brow in frustration. It would only deepen the wrinkle that had formed there, and signs of aging were to be avoided. Exhaling and crossing the room, she ran a finger along the edge of a decanter of wine, debating whether to pour herself a glass. It could wait - she had other matters to attend to.
Cersei exited her chambers and made her way down the corridor in search of her husband. He ought to be easy enough to find, kicked back somewhere with an injury as an excuse to take it easy and drink all day. After confirming with one of his guards that Robert was in his solar, she made her way to his apartments, entering without being announced. Emerald eyes flicked from his heavily bandaged arm to the cup of wine in his opposite hand.
”You appear to be doing well enough,” she said. Cersei’s tone was one of indifference as she crossed the room to pour herself a glass of wine, though she joined Robert nevertheless, taking the seat across from his. ”Does the Maester think you will regain full use of it?” More likely than not it was still too early to tell; it could go either way with breaks. That now-dead Tyrell boy had been crippled by one bad enough. Not that Robert would likely let it stop him from participating in any future wars. Still, Cersei would rather her sons not be required to put themselves in danger coming to his aide when he could no longer swing that great hammer quite so well as in his youth.