A Vow Without Honor

The Crown

"Unless you have the same effect on Lord Tywin, I'm afraid it would be for naught."

They paused, eying one another before laughing softly.

"There isn't a woman on earth who could make Lord Tywin move, except for perhaps my grandmother, but I believe she only moves him to indigestion."

They laughed again.

"Is that why you married Jaime so quickly?" Margaery asked then, genuine curiosity in her eyes.

Myra shrugged. "I can't imagine all of Dorne was eager for that particular ceremony."

"I should thank you for that, by the way," the Tyrell said, standing again. "Had you managed to return unwedded, Lord Tywin would have made your ceremony the largest in memory, and I do so loathe being outdone."

"As I have noticed," Myra replied. Seventy-seven courses would be feeding the menagerie of guests that evening, and she could not imagine making it past seven. Even Robert Baratheon might have called it too much. "Trust me, you needn't fear me in that regard."

"But in others then?" Margaery teased, returning to her mirror. She moved a hair here and there, little things to make herself appear occupied. She was already radiant. "I certainly hope our discussion hasn't gone to your head."

In more ways than you realize.

"Of course not," she answered, playing with the necklace. It was a gaudy thing, but Jaime had insisted on it. Something of his mother's, he had said. She suspected there was more to it, but did not pry. He would say eventually. "It's the Stark in me."

"Well, for the sake of the realm, perhaps you should find a bit more Lannister," she replied with a pointed look.

"You've never been in a litter before?" Jaime asked as he sat across from her, practically buried in her skirts. They jostled to and fro, a ride only slightly less bumpy than the carriage from home. Outside the curtains, she could hear the smallfolk shouting the names of the king and future queen. Occasionally, theirs made it above the din.

"What was it about Winterfell that made you think I had?"

He chuckled. "You have me there."

Jaime turned back to the window, watching the crowds slowly pass by. Every lurch had him grasping the curtains.

"Have you been in one before?"

He shrugged. "Once, when I was little. Usually I'm on a horse."

She smiled. He probably couldn't stand the idea of being on something not in his control. The Jaime with her now might have been different from the one people often saw, but there were more similarities than differences. Trust was still hard to come by, and he believed more people to be fools than scholars. Being forced to trust the fools to carry him without incident must have been quite the blow.

The tightly enclosed space did not do him any favors either.

"Well, I'm glad you're in here with me."

"I'm not sure the litter carriers would say the same. Perhaps Tyrion should have ridden with you."

Her laughter was drowned by the shouts of the crowd. Myra glanced out the curtains behind her and spied Cersei exiting her liter with Tommen beside her. Victory over Stannis had even won her back the favor of the people. She supposed it wasn't hard, so long as the commonfolk had food in their bellies and a place to sleep at night.

Soon enough, their litter came to a final halt, and Jaime could not have escaped faster. He nearly tripped on her skirts on the way out, practically crawling across the space.