Chapter 21 – The Fairest Maiden in the Seven Kingdoms
The Tower of the Hand.
A barefoot girl of barely thirteen crept up the winding stairs, her lips curved in a sly little smile.
On another face, such an expression might have seemed lewd or impish. But on hers, framed by flawless features and golden hair, it lent her a playful charm.
She tiptoed toward her father's back, ready to spring a childish ambush—when a measured, commanding voice cut her short.
"Stop this nonsense, Cersei."
The sudden rebuke froze her in place. Blushing, she stood stiffly, unable to muster a reply.
Lord Tywin Lannister turned, his stern gaze falling upon his daughter in her pale green gown, the bloom of youth clinging to her like perfume. Yet his emerald eyes showed no softness—only reproof.
"Father… I—I only meant—"
She dared not meet his eyes, fingers twining nervously before her skirts. "I only wanted to spare you from working too hard."
"That is not for you to concern yourself with."
Even in the face of her timid care, Tywin's tone remained cold, distant—more fitting for a servant than his own blood. He set aside his quill, his eyes sharp and leonine, his voice carrying the weight of command.
"You are thirteen years of age, Cersei. At that age, I was already studying the histories, training daily with sword and lance, preparing myself to one day rule the Westerlands."
"Not wasting my days in idleness like your grandsire, who made our House a laughingstock."
"You are not a son, but you still bear the name Lannister. That name carries duties. Family comes before all else. Do you understand?"
"Yes… Father."
Her reply was faint, her lips trembling. She turned quickly, fleeing through the door, before he could read the defiance kindling in her heart.
Tywin only shook his head, then turned his gaze toward the crimson-armored guard at the door.
"I am bound for the king's presence. Keep watch over her."
"Yes, my lord."
---
Cersei ran until she reached the garden. Her chest heaved, her eyes glistened—wet not with sorrow, but with rage.
"All your fault… all your fault!"
She tore at blossoms, ripped shrubs apart, trampling the carefully kept paths into ruin. The flowers, in her fury, became her enemies.
"Damn you, you cursed little monster! Hell-spawned imp!"
"If not for you, Mother would still live! Father would not treat us like this!"
Her voice rose to a scream, her face twisted with hatred.
And then—
A sudden rustle in the flowerbed before her. From the greenery slid a serpent, its scales gleaming with bands of color, its forked tongue tasting the air as it fixed cold eyes upon her.
Most girls her age would have shrieked, fled, perhaps fainted outright. But Cersei was not most girls.
For an instant she faltered. Then she lifted her chin, teeth clenched, her green eyes blazing.
"You dare not bite me, beast."
"I am Cersei Lannister, daughter of the Hand of the King, and one day I will be queen!"
"You filthy creature are unworthy to touch my noble flesh. Now—begone!"
She raised a delicate finger, pointing down at the snake as though issuing a royal decree. Never once did it cross her mind that beasts do not bow to commands.
"Hissss…"
The serpent coiled tighter, unblinking, its tongue flickering in defiance.
The serpent's slit-pupiled eyes fixed on the proud young girl before it. With a sudden coil of its tail, it lunged, fangs bared!
"Ahhh!"
Cersei screamed, throwing her hands over her eyes, collapsing backward in terror. But the pain she braced for never came. Instead, a cool gust brushed her cheek—and a gentle, resonant voice sounded at her side.
"You are safe now, my lady."
She hesitated, trembling, then lowered her hands. Her emerald eyes widened.
A tall, broad-shouldered knight stood before her, clad in pure white. Sunlight gleamed across the polished steel of his armor. His face—strikingly handsome, smiling warmly—seemed to banish all shadows from her heart.
Cersei's breath caught. For all the gallant lords she had admired, even for the silver prince Rhaegar himself… this man seemed yet more radiant.
"The beast is slain. You needn't fear."
He gestured lightly to the serpent, now hacked cleanly in two, its body still twitching on the grass. Then, with courtesy, he extended his hand.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, and instinctively she placed her slender fingers in his palm. The warmth of his grip made her cheeks flush deeper.
"I thank you for saving me, ser."
When he drew her to her feet, she found herself unable to reach even his chest. She took a deep breath, suppressing the strange urge to rest her head against the white breastplate before her. Instead, she lifted her skirts politely and dipped in a curtsey.
"Helping a lady as fair as you is an honor for any knight," the stranger said with an easy smile.
Yet he did not release her hand. His thumb brushed slowly across her soft skin, as though savoring it. Smooth… like silk.
Cersei, far from recoiling, seemed to bask in it. Her green eyes glistened as they lingered on his face; her lips parted, breath quickening.
"Lance, we must be going."
The spell shattered. Ser Barristan Selmy's stern voice cut between them.
Cersei snatched her hand away at once. Lance sighed with a trace of regret, sheathed his sword, and gave her a playful shrug.
"I must take my leave, fair lady."
With that, he strode off, leaving only his tall, gallant back in her sight.
"I… I am Cersei Lannister, ser!"
The words burst from her lips before she could stop them. She hurried forward a step, calling after him.
Lance arched a brow. So this is the one they call the fairest maid of the Seven Kingdoms.
But he betrayed little surprise. Instead, he raised a hand in casual farewell, his voice drifting back with a smile.
"If you remain in the Red Keep, I've no doubt we shall meet again. Remember this—my name is Lance Lott."
And with Barristan, he vanished from view.
Cersei stood rooted, watching long after he was gone. She licked her lips softly, whispering to herself, "Lance Lott…"
Moments later, the panting red-clad guard finally caught up. At once she masked her expression with icy disdain, snapping:
"You are late, ser."
---
Meanwhile, Barristan walked beside Lance, eyeing him warily.
"You are smiling, and your steps are light. Tell me, ser—you have not grown too fond of that girl, have you? She is Tywin Lannister's daughter. And we are sworn brothers of the Kingsguard."
He spoke firmly, a reminder etched in steel. "You know our vows—no wife, no children, no inheritance. Our lives belong only to the king."
"Thank you for the lesson," Lance replied dryly, shooting him a glare. His good mood soured by Barristan's admonishment, he muttered inwardly, Always the killjoy.
As if vows ever stopped half the Kingsguard before me…
And besides—
"Only a fool would serve as a Kingsguard for life."
The words slipped out, low and scornful.
---
By the time they reached the doors of the council chamber, silence had settled between them again. But it shattered as soon as they drew near.
"Get out! Out!"
The king's voice thundered from within, shrill with fury.
"By the Seven, I need none of your guards, none of your counsel, and I will hear none of your insolent demands!"
"Take your men and crawl back to Dragonstone. Without my leave, you will not set foot in King's Landing again!"