As he looked at himself in the mirror, he could only smile to himself. In life, he had found a new enjoyment in life clothing. He wore a doublet of deep crimson velvet, so rich in tone it seemed to drink in the candlelight. The fabric clung perfectly to his frame, tailored precisely to emphasize his lean musculature, earned through months of tireless training. Gold embroidery traced intricate lion motifs along the chest and sleeves, the sigil of House Lannister roaring across his heart in shimmering thread. Each stitch was flawless, a silent testament to the wealth and power of his House.
Over the doublet, he wore a short black leather half-cloak, fastened over one shoulder with a lion-shaped clasp of burnished gold. The clasp itself was inlaid with a single ruby small, but bright enough to gleam blood-red when it caught the light.
His trousers were black and fitted, tucked into high riding boots of polished leather so dark it look closer to dragonglass. Subtle gold threading lined the seams of his trousers only noticeable when he moved, catching flashes of light like glints of sunlight off a blade.
Around his waist, a black leather belt with golden studs held a sword. The hilt was wrapped in red leather and shaped like a lion's head, its mouth open in a silent snarl.
He left his silvery-blond hair long, loose, and brushed to perfection, the locks falling just past his shoulders in waves that gleamed like moonlight on polished gold. A single braid was woven into the left side of his hair.
His boots echoed softly through the hall as he stepped out of his chambers.
As he walked his sharp eyes lingered briefly on the passing servant girls many of them young, fair-skinned. A few offered respectful curtsies, others shy smiles, but he kept walking, his mind adrift.
Genna had been more than enough to sate his appetite lately too much, if he were honest with himself but even so, it had been a while since he'd enjoyed the company of a young girl. Still, he pushed the thought aside with a smirk.
He opened his status menu with a flick of his mind, and the familiar soft-blue screen materialized in front of his eye, hovering silently.
[Flashfire Pulse]
Description: A sudden burst of heat and flame erupts from your core, scorching everything in a short radius.
Range: 5 meters around the user.
Deals moderate fire damage and applies [Burning] debuff for 10 seconds.
Cooldown: 45 seconds.
[Soul Chain]
Description: Bind yourself to a living creature for 24 hours. If they die, you gain a portion of their strength… but if you die, they do too. Upon activation, creates a spectral chain visible only to the user. Absorbs 25% of target's stats permanently if they die while bound.
[Fraction of life]
Description: Each time you kill a living enemy, you gain a temporary +1% to all stats for 30 seconds (stacks up to 5%).
[Perfect Metabolism]
Description: You will never get fat or lose any muscles you gain without actively wanting to.
[Charming Smile]
Description: You have a really nice smile, the kind that puts people at ease and makes the girls blush a little.
Interesting he thought as he looked at the descriptions of his new skills.
-Cersei-
Cersei sat in her chamber, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the stone walls. Her fingers nervously traced the edges of her gown as she looked into the mirror, studying her reflection. She would soon be the queen. She had dreamed of this moment for as long as she could remember, but now that it was within her grasp, the excitement was mixed with something else…
Robert Baratheon. She had been betrothed to him since the end of his rebellion, and now she would finally marry him. She would be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The title alone sent a thrill through her veins. But he was brutish, unrefined, and hardly the man she'd once hoped would be her partner (the only occasion she had ever seen the man was a tourney in Kings Landing and she was not impressed).
And yet, she would be queen. That thought was enough to fill her with a sense of power, of entitlement. She would rule from the Iron Throne, and her children would be heirs to the realm. She would be queen. The power was intoxicating.
But there was another voice in her head, one that she couldn't silence. Maggy the Frog's prophecy. She still recalled the witch's words, spoken so long ago but forever lingering in her mind: "You will be queen, for a time, but then comes another, younger and more beautiful. She will take everything you hold dear." Those words haunted her more than anything else. She could not forget them.
Cersei shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She would be queen. Her blood would rule. She couldn't afford to be afraid, not now. And yet, her thoughts drifted back to Jaime. The one who had always been her rock, her partner in everything. But now... he was avoiding her. She hadn't seen him much lately after he came back from Kings Landing, and the few interactions they'd had were tense, distant. She had caught the look in his eyes when they crossed paths something was wrong. Something had changed.
She could feel it, the shift in their relationship. Jaime had always been there for her, but now, he seemed to be slipping away. She didn't understand it, and it hurt. Why would he avoid her?
-Jaime -
Jaime stood at the window of his old chambers in casterly rock, his gaze fixed on the city below. The hustle and bustle of the capital seemed far removed from his thoughts. The events of the past weeks weighed heavily on him he had never expected his life to take such a turn. The Kingslayer. That title would follow him forever, no matter how many battles he fought, how many enemies he defeated.
The shame gnawed at him, but there was something else something more painful. It was the way people looked at him. They didn't see Jaime Lannister, the warrior, the son of Tywin Lannister. No, they saw the Kingslayer. They saw the man who had murdered a king, and no matter how much he had tried to redeem himself, that stain would never fade. The Kingslayer was who he would always be.
Jaime found himself avoiding Cersei. It wasn't because he no longer loved her he loved her more than anything but because he didn't feel worthy of her anymore. The Kingslayer had no place in her world. He wasn't the shining knight he had once been; now, he was tainted. What was he to her now?
His thoughts turned to Tyrion. The younger Lannister had always been something of a mystery to him. He had never been close to his little brother, but there was a coldness to Tyrion now that confused Jaime. When they were younger, there had always been a small amount warmth between them, a small bond that Jaime could always count on. But now, Tyrion barely acknowledged him. There was a distance there, too, an emotional wall that Jaime couldn't penetrate.
Why did Tyrion look at him like that? Why did he seem so cold?
Jaime let out a long breath. There was nothing he could do about it. He had to focus on what he could control. He had to make his father proud. The best he could do in this world was be the best heir he could be for Casterly Rock, and one day, the best lord of his house. That was all that mattered now.
-Tyrion-
As he walked, his sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the presence of several Lannister family members and other notable lords from the Westerlands who had gathered to mark the occasion. A few glanced his way as he passed, some offering polite nods, others less enthusiastic after all.
At the head of the table sat his father, Tywin Lannister, his presence as commanding as ever.
He found Cersei, sitting near the center of the table, resplendent in her gown of red and gold. As he approached, he couldn't help but notice the way her posture stiffened, as if a part of her expected his arrival. He took the seat beside her with a quiet grace, offering her a brief, tight smile before settling in.
"Good evening, Cersei," he said, his voice soft but steady as he looked her way. She met his gaze with an unreadable expression, but he could see the faintest trace of tension in her eyes.
"Evening, Tyrion," Cersei replied with a cool tone, her hands folded delicately in front of her as she glanced toward the center of the room where their father was speaking with Lord lefford.
As the first course of the feast was served roast venison, rich sauces, and breads warm he decided to enjoy himself in the feast.
XxX
Short chapter.
If you wish to support me go to my Patreo n .com /c/ Izana567 you gain access chapters earlier