Cersei could no longer contain her silent fury at House Tyrell's subtle victories. First, Margaery had won Joffrey's place as his bride, and now, through Olenna's sharp words, Tywin had been persuaded to seal a new alliance: you, the queen's daughter, would be betrothed to Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden.

Your mother protested - she said he was crippled, that he deserved less than you. But, deep down, you didn't see this as an obstacle. Willas could lean on a cane, yes, but he was also said to be firm in judgment, kind at heart and skilled in political games. And that was enough for you.

The wedding was scheduled to take place before Joffrey and Margaery's wedding, in the halls of King's Landing. After the ceremony, however, you would leave for your new home among the vineyards and gardens. During that month of waiting, I asked Margaery almost every day what her brother was like. She smiled with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, but answered with affection. You liked them - the Tyrells. Amidst the suffocating tension of the Red Keep and the invisible threads that her mother tried to tie around all her children, Highgarden seemed to her like a place out of a fairy tale - a dream of clear stones and festive flowers.

And then Willas arrived. The sun was low in the sky when the carriage adorned with the Tyrell's golden seal crossed the fortress gates. He descended calmly, leaning on his cane with the assurance of someone who wasn't apologizing for his scars. He was dressed with elegant sobriety, and his eyes sought yours among the faces of the court.

You were at the top of the stairs, dressed in pale blue and your hair tied back with discreet pearls. He approached you and, in front of everyone, extended his hand respectfully and lightly. You did the same, offering him your fingers with a graceful gesture. Willas took them gently and kissed them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, princess," he said, with a smile that didn't ask for approval, but offered kindness.