Northern lights

41. A wedding fit for a king

Rosalie hated King's landing. As her grandmother said, it smells like shit and the people just won't give her any peace. She understood more and more as she stayed there, more so when the maids bust inside her room only to find her wrapped in Jaime Lannister's arms.

That's all it took for the rumors to be confirmed. Suddenly she wasn't Rosalie Tyrell, they addressed her with lady Lannister. 

Jaime had left her with a kiss on the temple, muttering quiet apologies for overstaying his welcome. He knew Rosalie expected him to leave before first light, but he couldn't part with her. It's more than her arms clinging to him for dear life as she slept, more than her beautiful face as her dreams gave her rest,  but of his inability to stay away. 

Whether he'd admit it or not, Jaime Lannister cares for Rosalie. She colonized his heart and cauterized the scars. She makes him want to be a better man. She gives him a reason to try. Perhaps it's not love yet, but Jaime knows she's rooted inside him and a future without her makes him restless. It makes him afraid.

Rosalie huffed as he rushed past the maids, turning back at the doorway to send her a cheeky wink. She hadn't slept that well in a long time. Not since she spent a night with Robb. It only made it worse.

Guilt over her involvement with Jaime grows whenever he's gone, unable to overshadow the dark thoughts she's plagued with. Robb is always on her mind when Jaime's not with her. And when he's on her mind, she's thinking about the way he died. She's heard a few stories circling, none she stayed to hear to the bitter end.

A part of her wonders still, 'Did he think of me?'

Another part of her is torn apart by the thought of never seeing him again. Sometimes she feels him, as if he's still waiting for her to return with Sansa, to his warm embrace. But she has nowhere to return to. Robb is dead, Catelyn is dead, so are Rickon and Bran and Winterfell is lost to the Boltons.

There is nowhere to go but home. Highgarden will welcome her back. Dickon would be waiting there too. 

But Casterly Rock sounds tempting as well. Jaime's offer is certainly one she'd consider. She could either stick to the pretense of their marriage and make it real or she could go home and marry Dickon Tarly. 

For a moment, Rosalie entertained the thought of going to the Wall, to Jon. It's been a long time since she had a dream of him. It's been a long time since she thought of him. In a way, thinking about Jon brought only pain. She couldn't remember meeting him and Robb as a child as Margaery told her. She remembers meeting him in Winterfell, the same day she met Robb. Those memories of a once happy life make her heart trickle with blood from old wound she could never quite heal. Nostalgia of the past threatens her sanity, so she doesn't think of Jon. So she cannot think of Robb.

Instead, she tilts her head and lifts her chin defiantly high as the maids help her dress. As the bride's only sister, she must look like a delicate Tyrell rose. Green adorns her pale skin as a long sleeve dress is fitted and after a long time, Rosalie feels confident.

"A white band, lady Lannister?" 

Rosalie holds her breath as the maid calls her by Jaime's name, her heart bouncing inside her chest as she wonders if correcting them would be smart. She narrows her eyes at the white band, pursing her lips as she shakes her head.

"A golden one, please. It goes on my waist as does my husband's hand."

Husband. Such an odd word to say, especially when it alludes to a Lannister. Surely it would sound more natural if it was anyone but Jaime yet she doesn't mind. When she thought of Robb as her husband, it felt as if he was made to fill the position. Jaime feels like the last person she'd expect it of, yet he does it so well without her ever giving it to him.