"Cersei, mother, is angry you left the dining hall so early," his voice was sweet, and his face so so pretty.
Her heart flutters at the appearance of Jaime Lannister. Cersei makes her feel a confusing mixture of anger and betrayal and a now confusing mix of affection for how she had held her in her last death… Yet, Jaime Lannister still makes her heartbeat like a child on the cusp of first love. She frowns at the subconscious reaction. She can't claim to be completely the nameless, older woman of Earth, but she doesn't exactly feel like she is completely nine either. The fact that she is attracted to a ten-year-old is…
Odd. And uncomfortable. To say the least.
She cannot help it, though. Her cheeks warm, as she looks at him, his face is like Cersei's, but always more glorious and sweet by Melara's childlike memories. His face is bright, even in his slight annoyance… His emerald eyes, however, only look at his sister. They , Melara recalls with a grimace, are already touching each other sexually . Cersei had complained of her room being moved just a few moons ago. Joanna Lannister had caught her golden twins in the act of something as per canon, and now Cersei is in a room with guards and on the opposite side of the Keep from her brother's. Jaime was probably already in love with her, and though she condemned loving your biological sister for simple reasons of genetics and ick factor, she could not doubt that his devotion would last decades.
And Melara Hetherspoon had no space in wake of that.
Pity sister-fucker. I think I honestly loved you as only a child could. I wanted so badly to be your wife.
"Good morning, Jaime," she mummers, soft. And she mourns this life's first love in the same breath, and her own innocence is utterly shattered with her Earth memories, "Cersei promised to meet me this morning, I'll go give apologies to Lady Joanna..."
Cersei pinches her shoulder blade. It is only her long practice of keeping silence in her pain that prevents a whimper from escaping her at the feeling of her twisting wounds at Cersei's hand. Melara stiffens at the all-too-familiar gesture.
"Stupid," hisses Cersei, "Mother won't care. She never cares as long as I make a passing appearance. You said that you wanted to see the woodswitch-"
Melara never wants to see Maggy the Frog as long as she lives. However long I can make that be. If this isn't a Ground Hog's day situation, she needs to avoid the woodswitch like the plague. Let Cersei go and hear about her golden shrouds alone. Let her get that push for all that she needs to ruin her own damn life.
"Go with Jeyne yourself," she smiles, "I don't mind. I'll speak to your Lady Mother and make some excuses, and then you won't get in trouble."
Cersei doesn't hesitate. She rolls her eyes, but her expression is all too pleased at that prospect.
"Fine. We'll go later together again if it's worth it, alright?"
Melara smiles. It's practiced and so pretty that she knows she won't be questioned by her murderest friend.
"Of course, Cersei."