There was something Cersei could hate more than Robert himself: Stark women. Those firm and beautiful North women. Jamie’s eyes were lost in the hair length of one of Ned Stark’s sisters.

Cersei hated her. You. Because she liked control, and she had no control over Jamie.

Jamie sat next to you during dinner. He gave you a soft, charming smile.

"The South suits you, my lady." He dared to murmur. "It makes your skin shine."

A lion loving the wolf’s skin. Unthinkable.

"So beautiful."