Prologue

"Ah, she is clever after all," said Cersei, smirking.
"Wit is such a rare accomplice to beauty yet we
stand, alone, in a room crowded with only that."

Cersei lifted a thick strand of Eleonora's hair, ran it
through her fingers, and dropped it back onto her
shoulder. The eldest Stark girl tilted her head away
from her touch but continued to stare straight
ahead. Her lips parted slightly as Cersei walked
behind her, glaring with hate in her eyes.

"Winter Roses do not survive in the south," said
Cersei, reaching the door to the hall and knocking
once for her guards to open, "your Aunt Lyanna learned that far too late, and I imagine so will you."

[Jamie/OC]