𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕔𝕦𝕓𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕠𝕠 ; (ℂ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕚 𝕩 𝕆ℂ🐺🦁)

𝟙𝟜 - 𝕍𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕍𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖

𝕁𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕪 fortunately had no time to use his new-won information against us just yet, the reason being his impending wedding. An event meant to inspire peace and hope among the people was ill-suited for the reveal of such scandals. After the wedding, though... we'd have to think of something until then. Right now, though, it was the guests who presented what they had thought of concerning presents. Tyrion's squire was placing a large tome on the table with a thud. "A book?", Joffrey asked, intrigued by the curious choice of gift. "'The Lives of Four Kings'", Tyrion explained, "Grandmaester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read." Joffrey shifted in his seat and said nothing for a while, looking at his mother and grandfather. Finally, he replied: "Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle." He was unusually agreeable. Perhaps the prospect of getting married soothed some of his cruelty, at least for the time being. Tyrion nodded and returned to his seat beside Sansa, on whose left I was sitting. A Kingsguard carried a sword to the table and Tywin rose. "One of only two Valyrian steel words in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honor." Joffrey looked up at his grandsire with an excited look on his face, becoming the little boy he must have once been for a second, and got up to walk around the table and retrieve the blade. Cersei, too, seemed to notice her son's giddy joy, because she smiled up at Tywin from his other side same as Joffrey. The latter unsheathed the sword in one wide swing. "Careful, Your Grace, nothing cuts like Valyrian steel", Grandmaester Pycelle warned. "So they say." Joffrey turned around, examining the smithwork. Suddenly, he spun back around to face the table and hacked the book still lying there into pieces. Everyone flinched back at the wild flurry of his hits. Joffrey's breath was already coming faster after the few seconds of exercise. "Such a great sword should have a name", he announced loudly, meanwhile staring his discontented uncle down. "What shall I call her?" Cersei exchanged uncomfortable glances with her father, as did I with Sansa, while the people shouted: "Stormbringer!" - "Terminus!" - "Widow's Wail!" - "Wolfsbane!" I tried not to scowl at the jab at my family's demise. "Widow's Wail, I like that." Joffrey chuckled. "Every time I use it, it'll be like cutting off Ned Stark's head all over again." Sansa squeezed my hand under the table, although she kept her face straight. I realized I had never asked how she was handling the grief, hadn't even wondered. I had been so caught up in my own problems that I failed to remember that she had lost her family just the same as I. Was it too late now?

🐺🦁🐺🦁🐺🦁🐺🦁🐺🦁🐺🦁

The wedding bells has long stopped tolling by the time all the guests had assembled for the feast held underneath the blue autumn sky. Firedancers and acrobats were entertaining the crowd while young servant boys passed out platters of food. I relished in the extravagance for the sole reason that it was paid for by the Tyrells, a glamorous reminder that my sister was no longer bound to that devious oaf sitting in the middle of the dais, next to his new bride. In front of them, a group of musicians performed a rather depressing rendition of 'The Rains of Castamere' - a song that was never particularly joyful to begin with. Joffrey, too, looked annoyed by their minor key lamentations while Olenna made her way over to Sansa. "You look exquisite, child", she said, "the wind has been at you, though." She walked around my chair and began fussing with her hair. "I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother." I looked down at my plate out of reflex, although the active pain had faded a while ago. I supposed that after a certain amount of loss, death stopped meaning as much. Sansa next to me kept her expression blank. "War is war", Olenna continued, "but killing a man at a wedding... horrid. What sort of a monster would do such a thing?" It was something in the way she said it that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up - as though she weren't entirely convinced by her own words. What reason would she have for believing such a crime anything but monstrous, though? Cersei was always telling me how untrustworthy the Tyrells were, but this made no sense to me regardless. Perhaps it was just a feeling. "As if men need more reasons to fear marriage", the House's matriarch was saying. Not a problem we have, I thought with a glance toward Cersei, who was watching her son's bored face. My view was suddenly blocked by Tyrion reclaiming his seat on Sansa's other side. "My lady. My lady. My lady", he muttered a greeting to all of us, sounding like a repititous parrot. "Lord Tyrion", Olenna replied, gesturing out at the celebrations that were beginning to pick up, "you see? Not as bad as all that." She turned to Sansa again while the other Lannisters' attention shifted to us at her raised voice. "Perhaps if your pauper husband were to sell his mule and his last pair of shoes, he might be able to afford to bring you to Highgarden for a visit. Now that peace has come and all is right with the world, it would do you good to see some of it. You must excuse me, it's time I ate some of this food I paid for." She turned and left without waiting on Sansa's reply.