Lounge
They’ve been in the lounge for about an hour, Ser Jaime poring over leather jackets in a glossy lad mag, Sansa looking over the elegant pastries and choosing lemon cake together with a sugary mocha with expertly steamed milk.
(The barista has drawn a lion in the froth and Sansa squeals, throwing a handful of gold dragons into his tip cup before she snaps a picture because she finds it adorable. The barista knows what side his bread is buttered on--and that good service is most appreciated.)
Tickets have been collected, security bypassed and Cersei, Ser Jaime and Sansa have been screened with the tenderest, daintiest of pat-downs, the luggage is already loaded. All that matters is the comfort of the beautiful lounge, rich with dark walnut panels, overstuffed burgundy chairs and wide windows to showcase the fleet of planes.
From nose to tail to spread wings, the planes are red as Cersei’s finest lipstick, her little cub’s blood, the bottoms of her rose gold pumps. The magnificent shoes rest on a cushion as Cersei sits relaxing. One of the departure lounge masseuses rubs her temples with lavender oil while another caresses her hands, gently working at each finger. The Lannister lioness sighs in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed behind her large tortoiseshell sunglasses, a beam of sunlight making the gold Medusa on either side twinkle.
She hears her cub and her brother laughing in excitement, him low and rumbling, Sansa’s laughter bright and sparkling as champagne as she sips her coffee, nibbles her cake, tries not to look extravagantly excited. Cersei half-smiles; her girl Sansa has no guile, nothing in her but pure delight. There’s no need to have her any other way. The masseuse asks no questions, simply works a tiny space on Cersei’s palm. Cersei lets herself drop into the comfort like a warm bath, the nerves of packing, planning and waking up before dawn suddenly slipping away. She nods yes to a Bellini, made with organic locally farmed peaches and a sparkling Arbor Gold because Cersei finds the Napa Valley overrated, but is certain she’ll be able to find something to her taste when they get there.
After all, it is San Francisco.