the most problematic maiden at the joust

tw !!!!!!!!!! i do talk a lot about amicia’s looks, and objectification, starting from when she was literally a child, and this may be uncomfortable to read. if you don’t want to read this, skip the entirety of section ii in history x

history.

i

amicia was the second born child of seven born to house tarbeck, and their eldest daughter. the tarbecks had a long lineage within the westerlands, but at the time of her birth, were not really a house to take notice of, much to the chagrin of her father. the lord of tarbeck hall was a man who refused to accept his place in life, and amicia’s earliest childhood was marked by his ambition. she was not privy to his private discussions with his closest friend, the lord reyne of castamere, but she was always aware that he wanted more, and that he expected his children to help him achieve it.

ii (the section to skip if you choose to do so) 

as a daughter, the way amicia could elevate her father’s standing was through her marriage prospects. from infancy, shaping amicia to be a desirable wife was a high priority for her parents. it helped that she was a very beautiful baby, who grew to be an even lovelier child, something her father would often comment on and eventually come to favour amicia over his other children as a result of.

of her siblings, it was always amicia who was placed at the center of attention, shown off at feasts and gatherings, adorned in fine dresses and showered with attention. it may have seemed like the actions of doting parents, but it was not. their affection was always conditional, the love they held not for amicia the child, but amicia the future asset. for a young girl, this led to an unhealthy understanding of her worth and self image - that to be loved, to be special, was to be looked at, admired, and wanted. 

amicia has been objectified since she was too young to know any different, and has never questioned it, because it is all that she knows. her earliest memories are of strangers calling her a future beauty, women envying her golden curls, and the feeling of eyes following her always. by adolescence, she noticed when men looked at her a little too long, and so did her parents, but far from being disgusted by it, her father was pleased. 

iii

her education was dictated by what would make her a desirable bride, just enough to not be a fool, but not enough to nurture any natural intellect that may have existed. she was taught music, though she was never especially gifted, how to dance and move with grace, how to run a household and be a hostess. 

one area where she did shine was art - charcoal was her medium, and she preferred to draw people over everything else, producing lifelike sketches on the page. at first, her talent was encouraged as an asset, but as her skill grew, her work took on too much depth. she captured people too well, her work a bit too human, and no man would want a wife who sees to much, according to her father. besides, it was unbecoming for her to have fingers stained black from the charcoal. from then on, she was encouraged to draw flowers instead, though she never stopped drawing faces. 

iv

amicia was eventually sent to foster alongside guinevere lannister, the girls being roughly the same age. it was a move strategically planned by amicia’s father to put her in a position where she could catch the right eyes, and form the right relationships, at court. amicia, to this day, does not see it as an act that effectively made her a commodity, simply believing her father was doing his best for her, however, i don’t think it would be a particular secret that what lord tarbeck was actually doing was parading his daughter around for the highest bidder. 

upon passing from girlhood to womanhood, it became clear that amicia was different. to thrive as a woman in the west is to be a particular type of woman - refined, graceful, dignified and controlled. lord tarbeck had long striven to turn amicia into the ideal bride, but he had gone too far with it, and made her into something else entirely. he had invested in making amicia a woman to be admired, but men did not look at her with admiration, but with want. with that, the way women spoke to her changed, too, edged with a warning beneath their words. she was too much, too aware of her own appeal, too comfortable with the attention and too willing to return it.

amicia never quite understood what she was doing wrong. she was playing the role she had been taught and doing what she had been raised to do, and in the end, the only thing that made sense to her was that everyone was entirely jealous of her. 

v

amicia did catch the eye of several men of court, but the one who caught hers was nathaniel serrett. she had admired him for a long time, growing to an intoxication when they began spending time with one another. an affair was inevitable, as was the realisation she was carrying his child. 

the pregnancy was quite the scandal, as nathaniel was already betrothed to ayca mallister - a woman amicia considered a friend. it might have been easy for nathaniel to deny her and their child, but he did not - all knew who was the father of the baby in her belly. 

outwardly, her parents were furious. they lamented the disgrace of it, how they had expected better. her father spoke, loudly and often, of his shame, and her mother wept publicly at amicia’s ruin of herself. but behind closed doors, it was another matter. after they had finished admonishing her for not catching a lannister man, lord and lady tarbeck congratulated her on ensuring she would marry well, and despite everything, that was what mattered. 

amicia had always dreamed of a grand wedding, but hers to nate was not that - a quieter affair to ensure their child was not born a bastard. still, she told herself that she did not care. she had the man she wanted, and soon, she would give birth to his son, marcus serrett, the future lord of silverhill. 

vi

amicia has never questioned whether or not nathaniel loves her. their marriage was not built on alliances and carefully planned agreements - it was passion and fire, and all the things that made it so intoxicating when it was good was exactly what made it terrible when it was bad. they clashed as often as they came together, expressing themselves in heated argument and breathless reconciliation. 

even as a new wife and mother, amicia mellowed very little. they were a social couple, in attendance at every party and often hosting their own. now lady serrett, amicia continued life as she always had, and her reputation did not settle over time. she was still a woman who dressed too provocatively, and laughed too loudly, and caught attention wherever she went. 

vii

amicia was never truly aware how far her father would go in his ambition. she had been a serrett for years by the time his plotting with lord reyne was set in motion, and always had a bit of a blind spot when it came to her parents regardless. as such, it was a shock to her when their crimes came to light. she expected retribution, expected the execution of her father and brothers for their part in murder and treason. she did not expect the rains of castamere. 

in one fell swoop, amicia would become the last of the tarbecks. she was in silverhill at the time, completely unaware and informed later by her husband about what had occurred. 

it would be a lie to say she is not angry and upset by what happened - it devastated her, but the death of the men of the family, and to an extent, her mother, she can somewhat understand. what haunts her is the slaughter of the children of the family - her eldest brothers children and the youngest of the tarbeck siblings, a boy of seven born to her parents late in life. it is something she thinks about every day of her life, and unfortunately, something her husband was directly involved in. 

viii

the world did not end with the death of the tarbecks. life went on, and amicia was likewise expected to, and in some ways, that was the most difficult part. her existence was a reminder of what had been done, her anger burning close to the surface, but she knew she could not truly voice it aloud. 

she knows that her survival was not a kindness, but because of the man she married and the last name she bore. however, it still plagues her that if she had been at tarbeck hall that day, not silverhill, hers would have been another body amongst the dead. nathaniel was her salvation, and yet, she could not bear to have him touch her. 

likewise, she often thinks about the fact that she does not know if her survival was something discussed, or simply that nobody thought about it. whenever she speaks to a westerlander, she wonders if they too believe she should have died. 

her grief is complicated. she’s not a woman prone to quiet suffering, nor can she truly publicly mourn due to her family’s treachery. simply put, amicia has gone a bit mad. she’s paranoid, delusional, and very unstable in her moods.

she takes solace in alcohol, and without it, she comes across quite unravelled, nearly delusional, but with it, she feels sharper, her mind less clouded and more in control. it takes the edges off her paranoia, eases the permanent ache she feels, and allows her to sleep sounder at night. 

personality.

basics

amicia is a very expressive woman. there isn’t really a mask to her, but her emotions are not always rational or understandable, and while she is able to make it plain that she feels a certain way, she isn’t able to articulate why she feels that way in a way others can understand. she is not calm and rational, she is explosive. 

beauty is not a personality trait, but in many ways, it is amicia’s defining feature, both a blessing and something that has been used against her. the bulk of her life, her looks have been a focus, and very much influence the way people see her and how she is treated. 

on her good days, amicia can be passionate and devoted. although she was not a good friend to ayca mallister, she can even be loyal. she’s a little drawn to life’s weirdos and oddballs, and takes on a bit of a “big sister” role to them - ironic, given that she is not the best of mothers to her son. this is most evident in her relationship with cato hill, her husband’s bastard cousin. 

there’s a bit of an unfairness in how amicia is treated - rumours of her licentiousness were there long before she gave in to them and fell pregnant, her grief has led to her being branded a mad woman, and she is no stranger to cruelty. however, she does little to help herself. if someone calls her a whore, she will show up to their next meeting in a gown cut as low and fitted as tightly to her body as she can get away with. if someone makes a passive aggressive comment, she responds with something that is purely aggressive. she is not a passive victim, and does not help herself. 

since the rains of castamere, her behaviour has become increasingly unpredictable and erratic, swinging entirely between extremes. she lives with an intense bitterness and anger within her, and does not have a constructive outlet for it. 

amicia lives in delusion, contorting the world as she understands it to make sense in her mind. this has been present since she was young - she did not see that her parents used her, because she didn’t want to. when she married nathaniel, she believed it would be a fairytale, because she wanted to believe it. she excuses her son’s actions as normal, because she doesn’t want to think about the alternative. 

She has a very dark sense of humour, her jokes often the kind that make others uncomfortable. 

rumours

long have rumours of promiscuity followed amicia, seemingly confirmed by her pregnancy as an unwed teenager. They aren’t entirely warranted, born purely because of how she looks and dressed, but she has never slept with anybody who wasn’t nathaniel. 

It is probably thought that her pregnancy was on purpose, a calculated move to lure nate away from ayca and baby trap him. 

She’s losing her mind and it isn’t subtle. All know that amicia serrett is going mad. 

goals

Amicia doesn’t really know what she wants. It isn’t revenge, it isn’t absolution, it isn’t even really acceptance. There is no greater goal she is working towards - she’s too blinded for that right now. 

fears

The most concrete fear she has is that nathaniel will divorce her. Despite it all, she does struggle with the idea of not being with him, and has no idea where she would go if he did decide to end their marriage. 

More broadly, she fears betrayal, again, particularly by nate.

She fears endlessly for her son - that she will lose him, that he will end up like his father, that he will end up like her. 

Losing her looks is something she dreads, because the way she looks is all she has ever been. 

other.

marcus remains the only child born to nathaniel and amicia. she has fallen pregnant a few times over the last ten years, but always lost the pregnancies early on. 

Marcus serrett is a very difficult child, prone to tantrums and fits of anger and violence. amicia buries her head in the sand, dismissing his behaviour as that of a growing boy. She is far too permissive with him by far and clings to him tightly as her only living blood relative.

these were not her rooms, not her apartments, not her place, and yet, amicia lounged on cushions like she belonged there anyway, honey-spun hair splayed around her head. there was a faint pounding in her head that had been present since the two of them had settled for lunch, both picking at plates that would be returned to kitchens with only a fraction less than they had come out with. it was worse when she looked directly at the candlelight, but amicia did, anyway. she liked the way the glow made everything else blur, always had.

it would not be accurate to say that she did not feel judged in guinevere lannister's company. in fact, it was the complete opposite. the two had no more in common than they did when they were girls. it was that which bound them now, the fact that they were once girls who had grown up in each other's company. her father had sent her here to tie herself to a lannister, and amicia had, just not in the way that he envisioned it to be.

"eh?" she said, gracelessly, hair tumbling over her shoulder as she rolled to one side and propped her head up with her hand. she needed to look up to look at guinevere, sitting proper even though it was just the two of them, where amicia would have kicked her feet up even with a hundred others in the room. a faint crease appeared between her brow, because when guinevere asked about oaths and signing, it took her more than a few seconds to catch up to what she had meant.

"well, obviously i signed it," the response came after a pause, and amicia found herself studying guinevere's expression carefully. there was much that the princess did not say, and amicia had become accustomed to reading between the lines to understand her. often, even then, she could not, but she knew enough now to know that there was more to the question then curiosity.

"marbrand's chasing everyone up for it, isn't he?" she rolled her eyes, as though the whole matter was utterly boring - to amicia, it had been, until that very moment. "or so i hear. couldn't be bothered with all that, so thought it was best to sign it of my own volition before he comes knocking." she did not mention that it had been a rare moment of precaution for amicia. it was not as though she did not give the westerland court a reason to talk about her from behind their wine glasses, but there was some things that were not worth the trouble. she had a feeling the oath she had signed her name to was one of them.

it had been over a decade since amicia had been married, and to this day, she'd yet to find a sense of ease around her husband's sister. it was not just that she was a queen, or that amicia came from the family she did. something about katherine made her feel awkward, be it the way that she dressed or the expression on her face, the one that said touch-me-not. ten years, and amicia still felt as though she did not know this woman at all, had no idea how she thought, her opinions, what it was that went through her mind when she looked at amicia.

she fidgeted in her seat, wishing they were drinking something alcoholic, that burnt on the way down, instead of essoian herbal tea. the terrace where they sat was undeniably beautiful, stone carved into ornate patterns, shaded by trellises of fragrant blossoms with soft harp music floating from... somewhere. it was still not enough to relax her, her gaze resting everywhere but on katherine.

she took a sip of the tea, the bitter, grassy flavour making her splutter, face crinkling in disgust. "that's awful," she spoke without thinking, returning the cup to the saucer and pushing it away from her. it was then she noticed two things. first, that the neckline of her gown had slipped lower. she normally did not mind that her gowns were lower cut than most women, or fitted a little too tightly to her body. even when wearing something that would be perfectly modest on someone else, it always seemed to look indecent on her anyway. she did mind now, though, and moved to try and subtly tug it upwards. it was then the second issue came to her attention: a few of her fingers were stained black, smudged with charcoal.

amicia had taken refuge under a shaded pavilion, slender fingers wrapped around the stem of a cup of arbor gold. it was not her first drink of the day, and more like as not would not be her last, though for the moment, she was content enough to pretend to herself that it would be. where she was right now felt like a good place to be - amidst flowering trees, the smell of fruit and the buzz of conversation from either side of her. she should have brought her sketchbook, she thought idly, though it was a fleeting thought.

fleeting, because that was the moment her gaze landed on cato brax, rounding the corner. she'd had no idea that he was expected back from alayim, but then, nobody had told her he was going in the first place until he had already gone. at first, she had tried to ask about his wellbeing whenever she was forced in proximity with elys brax, but he'd been tight-lipped, and with each story that came from alayim, she found herself wanting to hear less and less.

she stood up and made her way to greet him, leaving her wine behind at the table, though the scent of it lingered on her. there was no waiting for him to see her, nor approach her first. that had never been amicia's way. instead, she placed a hand on both of his shoulders, stopping him in place so she could look at him, the ways he looked slightly older and the ways he looked the exact same.

"you're back," there was fondness in her voice, though it was not the type of fondness one might expect to hear when amicia serrett spoke to a man; affectionate, but in the way she might have spoken to her younger brother, had he lived, or her own son, were it not so difficult to speak to marcus. "and you're well?" it was a question, not a statement, her eyes raking over him as though physically checking for harm.

it was far ; too far to have sent him for his indiscretion. more than once, amicia had wondered if elys brax had meant his nephew to die. she did not speak it, though, instead looping her arm through his with the casual familiarity of family that her husband tried to pretend did not exist. "i wish i had stories to tell you of home, but truthfully, nothing has changed much," she spoke as she walked, seemingly unaware she had given him little choice but to walk with her. "i can tell you that they have the loveliest little cakes here. i've been dying to try the one with gooseberries on top, but i've already had something sweet today."

wherever she went, people looked at amicia serrett. even before she had been marked as the daughter of traitors, scandal had followed her, and she did little to help herself. even in the markets of the verdant concord, she stood out, the sleeves of her gown slipping down to reveal bare shoulder, her neckline low , a light sheen of sweat from the sun granting her skin a glow.

she had come to pause by a baker's stall, putting one hand out to touch cerissa's shoulder lighter and bid her to stop walking. the goods on display were enough to make he mouth water, all topped with soft, pastel-coloured icing and topped with little cherries - and amicia had a sweet tooth. "don't they look lovely?" her hair swept over her shoulder as she leaned to get a better look, glancing up at cerissa only briefly.

she could not help herself. in one languid motion, she reached out her hand, nails stained red, and scooped up some of the icing from a little pink cake onto a finger before sucking it into her mouth, slow and careless enough to be either sensual or vulgar depending on the opinion of whoever was watching. "delicious," she said, straightening up and moving to pay for two of the little cakes - one for her, and once for cerissa.

"i'll save it for later," she said, watching as the baker wrapped the cakes in paper and tied it with string. "but you can have yours now, if you'd like. shall we find a place to sit, for a moment?" her arm looped easily through cerissa's, and now she had stepped a little closer, it would not have been difficult to make out the scent of wine on her breath. she was not yet drunk, not enough for her to turn in the way she was prone to doing, but she'd had enough to keep her loose.