rose.
a short story.
the first act of evil.
part two ━ the wild loves the girl.
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❛ it happens slowly,
so slowly that they don't notice.
no one notices.
only she knows what's in her own head. ❜
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POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING SCENES AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
CASTERLY ROCK.
THEY STAY FOR WEEKS. Uncle Kevan and his wife and Rose. Cersei grows complacent but irritated, because it seems like Jaime is around Rose all the time, and Cersei feels ignored. She feels forgotten. Left by the wayside in favour of some other beauty.
Cersei knows this isn't true. Jaime still looks at her the same way as he did before, and he still pays her more attention than he pays anybody else. Cersei knows her brother is just trying to be a good host, just as she is trying to be a good hostess for her father's favourite brother, but she thinks it might be something more than that, too. She can feel her own jealousy tainting her thoughts, seeping into her blood and her bones, because she thinks Rose is prettier and sweeter and far more innocent than she will ever be.
At night, when Jaime sneaks into Cersei's room, they talk about her. Not on purpose. Discussions of the day always seem to come back to their cousin, though, as if she is the Northern point on a compass, or the star they must follow home. It happens naturally. Cersei finds it somewhat endearing, the way Jaime's voice softens when he talks about Rose. Her brother has always been the more forgiving, the more good-natured of the twins, and it's evident by the way he treats their demon little brother.
Rose is sweet to Tyrion too, and Cersei can't explain it. She can't understand how Rose can stand to be around him, to play with him as if he is one of them. A normal child and not a creature sent to torment them. Cersei attributes it to the soft nature she has noticed in Rose. The younger girl is quiet, and at first, Cersei thought this meant she was dull. Rose does not speak often. She doesn't seem to like the attention. She flushes scarlet every time Jaime includes her in the conversation. When Rose does speak, her voice is so soft that she needs to repeat herself.
After a few weeks in the presence of her younger cousin, Cersei knows now that Rose is more attentive than she seems to be. Rose listens and prefers not to speak. She learns, and prefers not to share her opinion. She is clever in that sweet, quiet way of hers. Cersei's unsure whether she's been taught to behave that way ( because catching a husband, the Septa says, is easier if you have a pretty face and no thoughts of your own ) or whether Rose is naturally shy. Cersei finds that she likes it more than she'll admit.
It is better to have a silent, honest companion than yet another insipid girl who does nothing but blabber on about Prince Rhaegar and how handsome he is. Rose is better than any of the handmaidens Cersei brought with her from the capital, who go on and on about how handsome her brother is, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from snapping. Most of the time, she doesn't even try. She thinks Rose must find it amusing, because whenever she does lose her temper, Cersei spots the tiniest of smiles upon her cousin's face.
She watches Rose. Jaime watches Rose. They watch her interact with other people, and they find it fascinating. Her eyes ━ Lannister green and cat-like and luminous with life ━ light up when her parents are around, and it is clear to the twins that Rose adores her mother and father. She would do anything for her pious mother, who prays seven times a day, and Rose will join her every time, even though it is clear to the rest of them that she doesn't really care about whether the Gods are real. Her noble father, who must wish for a son but dotes upon his daughter anyway.
Rose cares more about the world around her than anyone they've ever met. Tyrion will learn about the world by spending hours with his nose in a book, but Rose has to experience it. Jaime finds her in the stables sometimes, talking to the horses. He notices that she has a favourite ━ Aurora was his mother's horse, and Rose doesn't know that, but he doesn't think it's a coincidence that Aurora is the horse she is drawn to. Sometimes he'll watch her, and he won't say a thing. It's the only time she talks without worrying about what she's saying, because she knows the horse won't tell anyone.
Rose loves the gardens, too. She rarely strays far from the keep itself. You can watch her from the steps or the balconies, roaming the bushes of flowers and hiding in the hedgerows. She never goes far. She doesn't like to worry her mother. She could get lost in there for hours, Jaime knows. He knows just by looking at her, running and playing by herself in the shade of the willow trees. She could get lost in there and never come back. Sometimes, he thinks she might want to, but she doesn't want to worry her mother.
So she always comes back.
Cersei notices all of this, too. It's hard not to pick up on these things when you spend so long watching someone. She finds that she likes Rose more than she'll admit, except her jealousy gets in the way, and one day, she'll wish it hadn't. One day, she'll wish she could have those few weeks back.
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CERSEI'S NOT SURE WHAT TO SAY WHEN JAIME ARRIVES AT HER DOOR.
It's late, and the world outside has already fallen into darkness. Oil lamps light the pathways below, and she doesn't think much of it when she sees two shadows rushing past in the distance. She turns away from the window and prepares herself for bed, and the sight doesn't cross her mind again.
And then there's a knock on her chamber door, and she smiles because she thinks it's Jaime. Jaime is the only one who visits her this late, so she jumps up from her bed and crosses the room and unlatches the door.
And then she is speechless, because it is Jaime, except Rose is in his arms and she's crying and he looks both furious and heartbroken all at once. His young face is wretched with it. So Cersei doesn't know what to say. She steps aside, and watches Jaime hurry past her and lay Rose down on the bed. Their cousin is crying, but the tears are silent. Her features are crumpled with fear and pain and grief, and Cersei doesn't know why.
And then she notices the tear in Rose's dress. She sees the blood smeared on Rose's legs.
She feels sick.
"Jaime, what happened?" Cersei asks. Her voice is coloured equally with urgency and caution, but she thinks she already knows what happened. The blood is crusted over, almost dry on Rose's skin, and Cersei wonders how long she's been like this. She wonders how long has passed between the crime itself, and Jaime's discovery.
Jaime presses his lips together into a thin, pale line. His expression is grim and almost murderous. He likes to think he'd be filled with this righteous anger if he'd discovered anybody else in the stables, bruised and bleeding and broken, but he knows he never would've been there if it had been anyone else. He never would've gone looking for anyone else.
"She wasn't at dinner," he says, and moves across the room to stand beside Cersei. He's not sure what to do, either. Cersei nods slowly, because she remembers Uncle Kevan saying Rose wasn't feeling well, and that she'd taken to her rooms early. "Afterwards, I went to check on her. I wanted to see if she was feeling better, or if she perhaps needed a maester, but she wasn't there."
"Was she in the gardens or the stables when you found her?" Cersei asks, and she thinks it's because they are twins that she knows this, but really she just pays far more attention to Rose's behaviours than she knows.
Jaime doesn't answer straight away. He checked the gardens first. He checked beneath the willow trees, because sometimes Rose falls asleep there, and he tells her that it's not safe and she doesn't understand why. He guesses that she needed some fresh air, so she wandered down to the stables.
To where she felt safe.
Jaime thinks that if he'd checked the stables first, he might've been able to stop it.
"She was in the stables," he answers, finally. He clenches his fists at the thought. "I don't know who did it. They were gone before I got there, and they'd dragged her over to the corner. Covered her in straw.I almost didn't notice her, but the horses were unsettled. Then I heard her crying."
A tiny heap with hair and skin that blended too well with the hay. He heard her crying, and he saw the blood. Even half-dried, it was so red against all that yellow. Whoever did this, he thinks that maybe they didn't know who she was. He's certain that if they'd known she's Tywin's niece, that they wouldn't have laid a hand on her.
Jaime doesn't think of the other option.
Maybe they just didn't care.
Cersei crosses the room, slowly. It's almost like Rose is a fragile, frightened animal, and Cersei doesn't want to spook her. It's the first time Jaime's seen Cersei be gentle with anyone aside from him.
"Why did you bring her here?" Cersei murmurs. She doesn't get close enough to Rose to touch her. The girl is curled up on her side, arms wrapped around her knees, and the tears still stream down her cheeks. "She needs a maester, Jaime. Look at her."
For the first time, Rose makes a noise. It is a whimper and a scream, all at once; a gut-wrenching sound, filled with a panic that words cannot convey. Still, she speaks, forcing the words out past the sobs. NO MAESTERS.
Cersei turns to glance at Jaime, who looks pained himself. "That's what she said when I found her," he murmurs. "No maesters, no parents. She doesn't want anyone else to know."
"Then why here?"
"She still needs treatment," Jaime says, and he sighs. He runs one hand through golden strands, and he looks tired and angry. "I told her she needs to see a maester, but she won't go. She needs to be looked at, and you're a girl, and I trust you. I think she trusts you."
Cersei understands. Rose won't want Jaime to clean her up. Not after this. Even if she trusts him, Cersei's surprised that she let him touch her at all. In spite of her harsh demeanour, Rose must know that Cersei won't tell anyone if Rose asks her not to. Rose knows that she can trust the twins.
It's a secret the three of them will take to the grave.
Brother and sister do not say one more word. Jaime takes his leave shortly afterwards, intending to stand guard at the door while Cersei tries her best to examine and clean Rose.
The girl is heartbreaking to watch, and Cersei thinks that she's only twelve. Only one year younger than Cersei herself, and she can't imagine it. She doesn't know how she would handle it. Rose is already of a softer, kinder, gentler nature than Cersei.
She approaches her cousin very slowly. She asks, in her sweetest, quietest voice, if Rose can just sit up so she can have have a look at her. Rose does so, slowly, wincing all the while. There are already bruises forming on her skin; her wrists and throat and thighs are mottled in light grey, and Cersei knows they will be much darker in the morning.
Cersei wishes she had some milk of the poppy to ease Rose's pain, but she doesn't.
She helps Rose take her clothes off, and lends her a nightgown that is long enough to hide her legs. The dress is one that, hopefully, neither Kevan nor Lady Dorna will notice is missing. It does not look expensive, given that Rose never changed for dinner, and though the tears may possibly be mended, she expects that Rose will never want to lay eyes on it again.
Cersei knows that she wouldn't.
Cersei cleans the blood and dirt from Rose's skin with a damp washcloth, and she tries her best to be gentle. The water turns a muddy reddish-brown. Rose has stopped crying, but she bites her lip hard enough to make it bleed, and Cersei knows she's hurting.
Rose falls asleep in Cersei's bed. Cersei doesn't sleep that night, and neither does Jaime. Cersei sits on a chair across the room, watching over her cousin as the girl sleeps fitfully, exhausted and traumatised from her encounter. Jaime does not move from his post all night; he behaves just like the knight he dreams of being, and he does not falter. He stays all night, guarding the door as if a queen dwelled within.
Instead, the two girls inside are far more important to him than any queen.
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JAIME AND CERSEI TELL EVERYONE THAT ROSE HAS come down with a fever, and she stays in Cersei's chambers for days. If people comment on how odd that is, given that Cersei and Rose aren't exactly close, Cersei brushes it off with a charming smile and replies that she wants to looks after her cousin. Rose refuses all visitors that aren't Jaime or Cersei, but when her mother insists, she lets Dorna sit by her bedside.
They pray together, and Rose tries not to cry.
She has lost all faith in the Gods.
Cersei demands that Rose sees the maester. Rose argues against it, but they both know Cersei is not well-versed in medicine. She can clean Rose up, but she can't do anything more than that. When Rose finally agrees to let someone examine her, she asks for a septa instead of a maester.
Cersei trusts her septa to keep this secret on pain of death, and the old woman brings milk of the poppy that she stole from the maester's chambers. Rose drifts off to sleep quickly, and for the first time, she looks peaceful. She doesn't look troubled.
It would look odd if Jaime hovered around Cersei's rooms all day, so he doesn't appear often, but it doesn't stop him thinking about it. Everyone who crosses his path is a suspect. He thinks that if he ever learns of the criminal's identity, he'll kill them himself.
Cersei stays all day and all night. These are her chambers, after all, so it doesn't seem too strange; she plays the role of nurse and caregiver diligently, and she's surprised at herself. She never thought she was capable of such kindness. When Rose is conscious, they talk, but Rose is rarely awake and she is always groggy. The milk of the poppy works wonders, and she feels no pain at the cost of her consciousness.
Cersei thinks she doesn't really mind.
"Why are you so hard on yourself?" Rose asks, one evening. Cersei had not noticed that Rose was awake, and she's taken aback by the question. Her cousin looks worse for wear. The high neck of the nightdress is pulled away, and Cersei can see the bruises that ring Rose's throat like a necklace. They are lighter now, more yellow and green, and they will fade soon.
The memories won't.
Cersei doesn't answer. She is hard on herself, she realises. She hadn't thought so before. She holds herself to a higher standard than everyone else, and she wonders why. She thinks it's because she needs to prove herself to everyone. Especially her father.
She is a girl, and girls must be one thing or the other. Cersei intends to be everything all at once, because that is how she thinks a girl can get by in this world of brutal men.
She only has to look at her cousin to learn the truth. It doesn't matter, sometimes.
When Cersei doesn't say anything, Rose speaks again. She sounds tired, and her eyelids droop, like she might fall asleep again any second. "You don't need to be. You're better than you think you are."
Cersei watches Rose fall asleep again, and once she's sure her cousin won't see it, she smiles. Rose would know. Didn't Cersei spend weeks keeping her cousin at arm's length, making spiteful comments to everyone around her? She knows Rose would never have said it otherwise. She blames the milk of the poppy for her cousin's loose tongue.
She doesn't mind.
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ROSE WAKES UP ONE DAY AND PRETENDS EVERYTHING IS FINE.
Once the bruises have healed, she arises from the bed and returns to her own chambers. Cersei finds that she misses the constant presence of her cousin, and she misses having something to do. She thinks she might be a good mother one day, if her time as a nursemaid tells her anything.
Rose dons a pretty new dress and the brightest of smiles, and she greets her mother and father with the tightest hugs. Nobody notices the difference but Cersei and Jaime, and they think it's because they know what really happened.
Rose will flinch, only slightly, when someone speaks too loudly or moves too suddenly. She'll wince when she walks, because something inside of her is broken and she knows it will never be fixed. She knows what the septa told her might happen to her.
She knows what her attacker took from her.
But she'll go on pretending that everything is okay. She will not talk about it when Jaime and Cersei try to broach the subject. She'll smile and change the conversation completely, and over time they learn not to say anything at all.
Kevan's family stay a few more weeks. Cersei is due to return to the capital soon, to preen at court and make her father proud, but she knows she'll miss Jaime. He will stay here and she will go away, and Rose will return to her family keep, too.
Cersei and Jaime know they'll miss Rose.
And one day, she's gone. As if she was never there, as if the Gods sent her ━ an angel ━ to bring them peace and light, and then take her away again.
The Gods would never do that to an angel.