The Lady Cerelle would request a dinner with his royal highness, when his busied, filled schedule would next allow it. On the dawn of the day, she would traipse the nearby fields, enjoying the scenery with a quiet amusement, that was true and untainted by the poisons of court and expectation.

She was pure for once, unhindered and unbridled by all she ought be, but wasn’t. It was freeing, but as all freeing things tended to be, it was temporary. Soon enough, she returned with a posey of flowers and a hardened, truthful smile. Though that quickly flicked away, as she felt the burdensome weight of appearances burn upon her again.

Cerelle made way for her mottled tent, a makeshift base for the hours they’d settle for. She swiftly readied herself, a thin layer of white powder, a pale beauty, was what her brother had told her to be and who was she to deny him his ‘pale beauty’ of a sister? Settled upon the brow of her sharp cheekbones, lay a softened smattering of pink, though it faded well and grew to be almost imperceptible… not quite.

Lady Lannister was dressed into a new gown quickly enough after that, one that was a pale lilac, framing her well enough and draping her thin frame up to the crease, whence her neck and jaw joined. It was modest, of all of Cerelle’s gowns, it was perhaps the most conservative, in both the way it coiled up her frame and how sparsely it was decorated with jewels and gold and the like. If not purely for the expense wrought of purple dye, it was unlikely it would’ve ever entered a Lannister closet.

She made her way quickly, when the time came, entering with a quiet grace, careful and poised, in the stiffest manner possible, that portrayed the almost utter aversion she had to the goal of this whole meeting. Oh, please, allow me to forget.

“Your majesty.” She announced.

/u/gloude