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Summary
Cerelle Lannister can't quite puzzle out her betrothed, Aemond Targaryen. She knows more than she thinks.
Aemond’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and he spun her to face him. “You should not have danced with him.” The panic once coursing through her spiked into a furious rage, licking and scorching her spine. Rage at Lorent, for betraying their friendship so easily. Rage at Aemond, however unwarranted, for not coming to her rescue sooner, for behaving as though it pained him to sit by her side for longer than but a moment.
(cross posted to tumblr as a reader insert. link in author's notes)