In fairness Cellese Lannister was a difficult person.

Not only difficult, but spoilt. Ever since she was a young girl, she sat on his lap and commanded her way in and out of Casterly Rock. If Cellese demanded time to stand still. Cellese didn't know or understand the word, no.

It seemed like a foreign language to her as a child. Even as a babe it seemed like doors were opened for her before she could reach them. For most of her childhood, their keep in Casterly Rock was bathed in jewels, silks and gold for the only daughter between Damon and Cerissa Lannister. Servants, her septas even the guards carried wide smiles whenever she passed them.

She supposed it was because she was the only girl and the youngest. Her father, unlike with her had a hardened fist when it came to her brothers Tybolt and Gerald. It was the complete opposite in fact, a walking contradiction her mother always teased. While Cellese drifted through her life through careful hands.

Her brothers loathed this. If Cellese refused to attend her lesson, their father had it postponed. Had the schedules of the Septas constantly rescheduled until Cellese was pleased. Cellese was her fathers ray of light. Her mother's prayers answered.

For Tybolt and Gerald in many ways it felt like the world revolved around their sister. But Damon Lannister was not called they Grey Lion for nothing. Tybolt, the eldest son learned of his fathers iron fisted hand too early for his liking. Damon Lannister would spend many morning, when the sun hadn't seen the stars dwindle away make his son practice his blades. One missed stance once earned Tybolt a struck so hard, he'd swore his ears rang.

Praise was conditional to the sons of the Grey Lion. It had to be earned and hard. Damon never watched his sons in adoration, which made the weight of his expectations weigh heavier on them. With Gerald, it was no different. Where Cellese's tantrums were entertained and coaxed into buying her anything her heart desired, Gerald had to achieve and excel to earn a gift.

The Grey Lion believed approval could not be handed freely. And as gentle as Cerissa was, she approved of Damons teachings over their sons. As the years had gone by and the children, it became impossible for them to ignore. It was clear, Cellese was the favorite.

Damon and Cerissa taught Cellese to believe that the world belonged on its knees singing her praised. And worse, it did. Because of this Cellese Lannister grew up to be a incredibly confident and self absorbed girl. She was impatient, quick to dismiss orders and had an unwavering belief that she was adored by all who had the privilege to be in her presence.

To be raised by a mother and father who carried steel bladed in their hearts for their children, where responsibility was lifted from her shoulders made her all the more unprepared to marry a Targaryen prince.

In fact her marriage to Aerion shattered her illusions of being willed love and power by so much as a wave of her hand.

When Cellese married Aerion, her defiance, her temper and pride took it as resistance. He himself had a sharp tongue and confidence that never lacked in a crowded room. Aerion was quick to remind her that where her father showered her in gift for her free will, he would it cut it out of her. She still carries the scar of when the tip of blade pierced through her gown from the valley of her breast to her navel.

Many believed their marriage was doomed from the start. A girl who had been raised to believe her confidence was not a caution. That her attention was a privilege and not a danger. It sent so many alarms to the Targaryens when Aerion hand picked the widowed Lannister to be his bride. His own volatility for passion, his controlling nature and possession would be a threat to Cellese.

And she never disagreed with their hesitations and doubts.

Aerion's intensity both scared and confused Cellese. Instead of providing her devotion and security at times it made her feel exposed and unbalanced. Of course she was drawn in by the prince, who wouldn't be? Aerion Targaryen was more than just handsome, to her he was beautiful. But as much as he invoked a fascination and lust, he also catered to the wounded anger she felt for him.

It was a constant cycle of limiting herself depending on his moods. When Cellese found herself doubting why she agreed to marry him her only saving grace was that he had never struck her, locked her in her chambers after bedding her or starved her. Not unlike her first two husbands who never wanted a wife, but a hole they could pierce.

So she tried, to the best of her abilities. But from her attempts made only for a marriage even his family couldn't understand. No one could quite follow the nature of their relationship, let alone survive it.

Aerion was a storm Cellese was unprepared for, but set sail anyway. There was a volatile drawn that always blurred itself between want and warning. In both parts, they provoked each other simply by breathing. One wrong stair would send the servants running for guards to intervene.

To both the Lannisters and Targaryens, it looked like a violent arrangement. Heated arguments, heavy silenced that prolonged for weeks and a tension that made them feel uneasy.

But despite it all there was an intimacy that always threatened to make Cellese cry. She hated to even acknowledge it, but the six moons she was respectively marriage to each of her husbands, her marriage to Aerion seemed to the one that stuck. In their own twisted way, they understood the extent of each one's temper, the meaning behind the fires in their eyes. Whether she liked it or not, Aerion's intensity was a challenge that only she could see as admiration.

But it never came without price. In so many ways it was consuming and isolating her. She believed herself to be the only one who understood the origin of his cold nature. The darkest parts of him that turned so many away.

But Aerion saw their union in different eyes. While Cellese clung to their shared fiery temperaments, he saw it as ownership.

For Aerion, Cellese Lannister was not only a wife. She was a reflection of himself. The traits he admired most about himself. His beauty, his pride, his sharpness. All of it fused into his wife. Loving Cellese was not just a desire, but to him it was a validation. That his power to claim something would be rewarded by a rare, dangerous and brilliant beauty.

That was the roots of Aerion's obsession with Cellese. He rarely saw their quarrels as equal forces. He could see in her eyes the clear signs of how deeply she belonged to him, and him alone. Only he could challenge her defiance and conquer it. Her resistance to him only heightened his chase for her attachment.

To Aerion Targaryen, Cellese was not a separate party that joined the union of their marriage. She was a mirror to his triumphs. Aerion believed himself to be the center, and Cellese the constellation that moved the moon and the stars.

But again, it all came at a price. And when Cellese showed her love, he not only indulged it he wanted to die in it. But when she waved reluctance and refusal, it scorched him harden than any flame could. And nothing proved this more than the morning Cellese was meant to travel to Ashford.

The morning broke as the corridors was alive and bustling with servants. Large trunks carried over steps, the chatters and whisperers echoed through the halls as the chaos of their morning travels fully took hold over Summerhall. That morning Cellese was no different to when she was a child and wanted to force her way until her father gave her his will.

"No." She said stood in the middle of her chamber, her hair loose down her back, heart chest thunderous as she crossed her arms.

Her room like a storm that broke loose. Her trunks overturned with array of silks and velvet hung from her chairs. Her jewelry scattered over the bed "I'm not going to parage myself in these fucking clothes." She scowled at the array of black and red gowns the servants had been ordered to back for her.

Three servant girls exchanged quick and nervous glances to each other "My lady, please." The eldest said, her voice trembled "The carriages are nearly ready. We haven't much time before you must depart."

"Are you deaf? I said I am not going anywhere!" Cellese snapped as she turned on her heel to grab a crimson gown "I mean look at this. All of these are dreadful." She tossed it across the room.

"But these are the ones prince Aerion picked himself." another servant said, immediately rushing to pick up the dress "He gave us clear instruction. I'm sure they're fine enough..."

"Fine? They look costumes maidens wear in brothels. My entire chest will hang from that dress!" Cellese exclaimed as she was across the room to grab another. The sight of it alone made Cellese throw it against the door, the fabric slid across the stone while the servant girls eyes widened.

They flinched at her cold stare "My lady, please stop." The third pleaded, her eyes darted to the door "If the prince sees this, he'll think we've failed you."

"And punish us greatly for it." The other added.

For a moment Cellese stood still. Her hand raked through her hair as she looked at them. Truly looked at them when she saw it. The fear in their eyes as they gathered the scattered dresses tidying the room.

"You act as if I'm a child throwing a tantrum." she remarked "Aerion won't do anything to, there's not much left of you after he killed the last four. Besides, I have no interest in spending my day in some fucking meadow reeking of piss and ale while I am forced to smile at whoring old men. Ashford is nothing to me, nor is the tourney."

"But, my your grace..." a servant girl tried intervening, carefully stepping closer "Your presence matters. And should you not go, the prince will see it as a negligence of service on our part. All of us."

Cellese pulled out another grown from her dresser, a silver silk gown with red embroidery of dragons around the neckline. "Gods, look at the state of this one..." she recoiled as the dress was flung onto the bed.

Just then, the door opened. Prince Aerion stood in the door but the state of their chambers stopped him. There was dresses in every corner of the room, trunks empty. The servant girls froze like birds caught a trap when his eyes landed on them.

When Aerion's eyes landed on Cellese, his eyes darked "What" his voice low and dangerous "is this?"

But no one answered. Instead Cellese threw a gown to his face, careless and deliberate as she challenged his already growing frustrations with her "Exactly what it looks like. I'm not going anywhere dressed like your personal whore."

"Your grace...we tried...but she was adamant...." the servant girl dropped into a bow as her words stumbled over each other. Aerion's eyes never left Cellese.

"Get out." Aerion ordered, but Cellese's hand was raised halting their scurrying steps. They stood still unsure of who's command to take. Aerions eyes fired back to them, cold and stern "Did you hear me?"

"No one move." Cellese crossed her arm "You don't bark at them to leave. This isn't their doing but my own. So unless you plan to pack my bridges back in my dresser, they stay Aerion." The servant girls quietly backed themselves to the wall, too frightened to leave the princess alone with Aerion.

They all know of his prince Aerions exceptional taste for violence. They suffered from it. It had become a disheartening to challenge to see which staff members would live to see a new season. Prince Aerion enjoying punishing, wounding or killing servants as a means to break Cellese's defiance. The servants, the guards, the maesters and tutors all feared even standing near Cellese.

"It is their responsibility to keep order in this castle. And over you." Aerion stepped further into the room, his boots heavy over the stone as he neared Cellese "And clearly they've failed in their service to the crown."

"Aerion." Cellese shot back "I told them to stop. I don't want to leave Summerhall." Her words clearly struck a nerve as she saw a veins tightened underneath the collar his jacket.

"You think you have a choice in this matter?" Aerion's jaw tightened "You will go."

"No, I won't." Cellese raised her chin, unafraid to look him in the eye and stand her ground. Aerion stepped closer to her, too close for her liking as his lips ghosted over her cheeks to her ear, his voice lower and more frightening

"If this room isn't set within the next minute, I'll have their arms fed to the dogs." he stepped closer, a firm hand on Cellese's waist "Better yet I'll cut them off myself and make them eat their useless fingers like starving dogs."

But despite his tone, they heard every words. They visibly recoiled, with one stifling a sob as she groped the dresses with trembling hands.

"So do it." Cellese replied, without a flinch in her body "Go ahead and make a spectacle. It will still be more eventful than Ashford."

The servants stared back at her, horrified. Though Aerions fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her hear, before Cellese felt his hand pinch her ear, and hard "You think I'm bluffing, don't you?"

"I think you are trying to scare me into obedience. But I'm not your fucking pet, so it won't work." Cellese's hand grabbed his jacket, her nails threatening to dig through the fabric and pierce the skin of her palm. Before she could let go she felt a cold and hardened hand grab her face, Aerion's fingers dug into her round cheeks

"You don't get to fucking refuse." His tone rising "This isn't some petty whim Cellese. You go no where without me." he warned. Cellese furiously shook her head before pushing him away from her

"You're my husband, not my master!" She yelled, the anger in her chest boiling her skin as she felt tears swell in her eyes. She hated crying when her temper flared, even worse when Aerion managed to make her so "I'm not a fucking cloak you can throw on when it suits you! I said I'm not going!"

Aerion shook his head, stepping forward as Cellese quickly backed away from him "You are my wife!" he shouted as his words cracked through the echo of the halls, with two of the girls whimpering terrified he might strike Cellese

"Your wife, not your prisoner!" she shouted back "Do you see a fucking collar around my throat!"

"You will stop this!" Aerion commanded, his voice dripped in poison. His sharpened gaze directed at only her as his hand travelled to the hilt of his dagger "You will take your place at my side. This is no debate."

Cellese's eyes felt like they burned from her tears. She swiped them away her stare unyielding to her husbands order "No. I won't go. I won't especially because your order it. Make all the threats you want, but I won't let you have your will over me because you want to parade me as though I'm a whore. I'm more than a piece of meat you've bought?"

"You truly think so?" A menacing smirk formed from the corners of his lips "Whore or wife, what makes you think you have a voice against mine. This tourney is far more than your temper tantrums."

The words struck hard and vast. Suddenly she wasn't a woman grown anymore. Now she was a child hiding in closet when Gerald would chase her down the halls of their home with their fathers dagger everytime her father bought her a new doll. Suddenly she was a child who flinched at the cold stares of Gerald whenever their father struck him.

"Enough of this." Aerions patience worse thin, as he quickly reached to grab her arm. His fingers gripped so hard that Cellese sucked in a sharp breath, her body flinched before she could think of pushing away. In a matter of seconds, with fury and might Aerion grabbed hold of Cellese by the arms, leading her to her empty trunks.

Cellese twisted her arms, her heels stomped hard on his foot. Hard enough to force Aerion to loosen his grip as she quickly shoved against his chest pushing him away from her "If you ever lay your fucking hands on me again!" she screamed, her voice shaken from shock and rage.

Her hands trembled as she fixed her sleeves, but her heart was pounding as though it might burst "You don't get your way with me by treating me like fucking a pet!" she shit back at him

The commotion could be heard from down the hall. Outside, slow and heavy footsteps were heard. A guard lingered too long in the corridor, close to the door. Farther down the hall a heavy door swung open, when it was shut the crack was enough to send a tremble through the walls. When Maekar Targaryen existed his daughters chambers, he paused in his steps.

The servants bowed to him, their eyes on their feet as they rushed past him. Maekar listened for a moment, though the tension clear as ever as he followed the slew of curses.

But in their chambers, it went unnoticed to both Aerion and Cellese. Aerion paced the room, more agitated than Cellese anticipated as she could see the shadows curve under his dark eyes "You will not humiliate me by refusing, wife. You think the realm won't notice? You think this won't heighten their disrespect of you?!"

"What weakens you is trying to bend your will until there's left but disdain Aerion!" Cellese fired back. As always, their argument never ended on his words. They'd scream until their throats were hoarse and strained, and it weighed heavy on the air in the room. It was a suffocating smoke that filled their lungs as they'd scream until there was nothing but charr from their tongues.

Because of this, they were ignorant sound of heavy footsteps that cut through the halls of Summerhall. They weren't slow, deliberate or hesitant. The door violently swung open that made the hinges creek. Maekar Targaryen's hand on the door "What the fuck is the meaning of this?!" his voice boomed, eyes darting between Cellese and Aerion.

Despite his question, it received no answer from either one. Their silence revealed enough.

"The two of you can be heard into the fucking kitchen." His eyes narrowed, stepping into the chamber. The door slammed shut "Do you intend on making a spectacle of this marriage even more than you already do before we leave?"

Aerion straightened his back, his anger towards Cellese still simmering but now restraint in his fathers presence. Cellese looked back at Maeker, her chin raised and arms folded over her chest. The two had never looked more like children than in that moment to Maekar as they shifted in their stance.

"Whatever it ends, it ends now." Maekar said, his voice cut through the tension between them. His tone wasn't raised, which only intimidated Cellese more. Unlike Damon Lannister, Maekar had a cold and calming fury that terrified her more than her father lashing out. "Both of you will be ready when we leave for Ashford. Whatever grievances you have, mend them. Finish this, immediately."

The room felt small as Aerion gave a silent nod to his father. His jaw tense as his eyes strained back to Cellese. Though she didn't answer, her eyes lowered to her feet as she turned to lift her trunk onto the bed. Maekar watched them, before turning as he exited their chambers. The slam of the doors heavy as Cellese turned to face Aerion.

"So?" she asked "Are you going to help me pack or not?"

"Fuck you." Aerion's brow lifted. He walked over, plucking a gold dress with red embellishments to her "Try not to ruin it."

Begrudgingly, she took it. Her eyes looked over it carefully as a small reluctant smile tugged at her lips "So, you do have taste." Cellese answered, a tinge of surprise and sarcasm in her voice "You simply choose to ignore it."

Outside the castle, the clattering of hooves crunched against the courtyards. Anya Baratheon, a loyal lady in waiting stood poised as her hand brushed over Daerons horse. Her eyes flickered towards the gates as she noted the stride in Cellese's march. Her skirt rustled as she ignored every gesture of greeting past her. Anya's eyes then landed on Aerion, who brushed past his wife, and them towards his horse.

She could tell Cellese and Aerion had fought again.

Daeron's lip twitched with a smirk when he noticed the cold stare she casted over them "Trouble in paradise I assume." He remarked, his voice a drunken slur.

Cellese did not take kindly to this. Her eyes narrowed at her good brother, her head cocked to the side as she looked him up and down. Immediately disgusted by the waft of ale, wine and sweat coming off of Daeron "I suggest you take more concern from the odor coming off of you than my husband Daeron." she replied. Her eyes gave a sharp glance at Daeron's dishiveled hair, though her insults had little effect on him.

Rather Daeron was amused by how quick she came to his brothers defense. Though it was Anya who gave him a discreet cough, guiding Cellese past the small procession. Cellese took Anya's hand as she led them to their carriages. She was halfway inside when she looked over shoulder.

It was brief, too subtle to even really notice but Cellese had caught in. The way Anya's chin tilted just slightly when she passed Daeron. There was a lingering glance exchanged between her and Daeron, not too bold and careless. But it didn't seem like nothing to Cellese.

Her eyes strained when she entered. She caught the way Anya's smile fell flat when she noticed Cellese's eye on them. So many riddles and pieces went through Cellese's find, the most prominent? Curiosity and possession. Cellese always assumed she knew everything moving in and out of Summerhall. So discovering a potential love affair between Anya and Daeron, of all people, was as a complete shock for the princess.

Anya entered, taking a seat next to Cellese. She turned to her side as she patted her hand on Cellese's knee "What's wrong now?" she asked softly.

"Nothing at all." Cellese replied, she held her gaze a second longer than needed. A hint of a smirk touched her lips. Nor cold or warm, but rather knowingly. For once she knew a secret of Anya before her lady in waiting of her.

As she looked back at Anya Baratheon, Cellese couldn't help notice the curve of her friends cheeks. And then she saw it, the tiniest faint flush that trickled over Anya's cheeks. It was quick, a blink of the eye and one would miss it. But it was there none the less. The color lingered before Anya's gaze looked out the window.

Cellese remained seated and quiet. She leaned back into the velvet cushions, her strained back easing into its comfort. As the roads continued to stretch on, Cellese watched the scenery in silence. The soft clouds, the gravel roads, the meadows the sunset would kiss so gentle and perfect as she fell asleep with her head on Anya's shoulder.

As Cellese drifted in and out of sleep, she only hoped that the journey to Ashford would hopefully whatever ill-intent premonitions she had of the tourney would turn to be wrong.

AUTHORS NOTE:

look at me being productive on wp (I'm gonna enjoy it while it lasts cause it won't be long)

cellese when the servants begged her to listen to her husband:

https://youtu.be/maW3iXXFdyk

found these and immediately thought of aerion and cellese being the toxic mess that they are

Cellese growing up being the youngest daughter who's seen as spoilt but grew up extremely isolated from her brothers (bc i'm giving all the youngest daughters the representation we deserve)

Remember when i said aerion and cellese are not to be romanticized, we're finally getting into it. Recently, especially now that the shows ended (for yall, my delusional ass hasn't watched episode 6 bc I hate finales and refuse to accept this whimsical show is over) there's been so much talk about Aerion specifically fanfics written about him.

So let me say this again so I don't end up getting bashed or cancelled, Aerion Targaryen is far from perfect in this book and i will make no attempt to romanticize or stray him from his canon book depiction. What I am doing is adding layers to him from what I've read in fire and blood and the hedge knight novella. But yes, he is still an extremely dislikable character (I promise I'm not only hypnotized by the actor).

Also please don't forget to either vote or comment, because I have so much fun interacting with you all at the end of the chapters <3