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Jaime Lannister sauntered through the halls of the Red Keep, his longsword hanging by his side and a signature shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome features.
Serving girls giggled as he passed then twittered excitedly to each other, some swooning giddily over his presence, others deliberating why on earth the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was looking so happy.
Some bowed and curtsied as he passed – Lannister men and girls mostly - a ‘my Lord’ or ‘Ser Jaime’ tumbling from their mouths along with some other it’s wonderful to have you back or whatnot.
Others gave him a wider berth, any reluctant formalities followed by whispers and furtive glances. A man without honour, they called him, despicable and wicked. He must have done something right awful to be so happy.
But Jaime ignored them all, sincere or otherwise, for truth was he had, for today at least, lived up to his damned reputation.
Not that they needed to know that though.
The stark boy had been an unfortunate necessity, it was true; his cousin, Alton, too.
But unfortunate necessities were an inevitable part of loving someone when everyone else wanted to tear that love apart, tooth and nail.
This was no different, and as far as he could see it, it was their fault, really.
If the Seven Kingdoms would just allow them to live and love as they were made to be, all this unpleasantness would never have to have happened.
Everything he did he did for Cersei, for their children and their family. He would give his life to keep her safe, to make her happy.
Nothing else mattered, not truly.
And what was honour, if not born among the deepest and purest of love? What was honour, if not built upon undying sacrifice and devotion and loyalty?
No, his relationship with Cersei was simply not something that he could agree with the gossiping masses about.
They would never know the truth – could never understand – about what they had, just as they would never know what really happened the day King Aery’s madness finally caught up with him.
And besides, they might call him monstrous and spit on his name, but they would never weep for the weasel.
His feet carried him faithfully along the quickest route to his sister’s chambers, his thoughts turning to the remnants of their conversation from the day before.
He couldn’t even remember now how they had gotten onto the matter, but he did know that the mood had soured and their nice little conversation had turned to roars, their words the double force of a sibling’s argument and a lover’s quarrel.
It had changed when Cersei had eventually admitted to letting him into her bed, an answer that Jaime had both needed and not wanted to hear.
It was not new news, exactly. He had heard it already from Tyrion, but all the same that did not stop the nagging surge of primitive, instinctual emotion that rose up within him, a mutiny against his own rationality.
There had been anger there in the mix, bitterness certainly, a fair bit of jealousy, too, but it wasn’t truly Cersei that these were aimed at.
It was Lancel he turned these thoughts towards, but unfortunately for the sake of that conversation their cousin had not been there for him to take it out on.
He had let his thoughts cloud his speech – how he should have been the one sharing her bed, the only one who should be allowed to feel her warmth and kiss her softly, how he should have been the one to kill the great fat pig – and instead of a direct verbal attack on the lesser Lannister, his thoughts had instead manifested as a rather misguided question against his twin, one that he had regretted as soon as the words had left his lips.
‘You wanted him?’ He had asked, unnecessarily he knew, but the possessive, passionate drive in him hadn’t been able to help the provocation.
Cersei had glared at him, a long hard stare, her eyes burning like wildfire over water in darkness, but he had seen that there were other things that lurked there beneath the fury, things that made his stomach knot with guilt and his heart twinge with sadness.
‘No, Jaime. I wanted you.’ She snapped eventually. ‘But you weren’t here. You were halfway across the Seven Kingdoms, fighting a war for our little brother. What else was I supposed to do? You left me here, alone. I needed him to kill my oaf of a husband before Ned Stark ruined everything.’
Needless to say, she was not pleased with him, but he had determined to change that by the turn of the day.
Jaime was feeling decidedly better about the whole business – much better indeed – and he knew his sister could never stay truly annoyed with him for long.
He was off guard duty for the afternoon, and what an afternoon it was.
A perfect summer’s day had welcomed him as he left the white sword tower for the city, the incessant bustle of the winding streets seeming much less suffocating than usual. The sun was warming, the smells were sweeter, and every cobbled step he took towards his destination felt like a new possibility.
It was funny what good prospects could do for one’s mood.
Tyrion had warned him not to be reckless, but as much as he loved his little brother, even he could never understand the deep inferno that drove him.
Gods had it felt good to run his sword clean through, consequences be damned.
The Seven could have their fill of it for all he cared, as long as he had Cersei all to himself.
A crime of passion, they could call it. The common folk could write a ballad and the laws could condemn the kingslaying kinslayer who fornicated with the late king’s wife.
He had paid once already with his hand, he would not pay again by losing his sister to anyone else.
Before he knew it, Jaime was face to face with Ser Boros Blount, the stout, ugly knight who he considered the epitome of average and really not good enough to be guarding his sister.
But then again, he would want that job for himself alone, except by her side and with her hand in marriage and not just on the other side of a heavy door.
‘Her grace has said that she does not wish to see anyone, Ser.’ Blount said as he approached, drawing himself up in the presence of his commander.
‘She’ll see me.’ He replied, mildly enough but it was nothing if not an order, and the other knight knew it so.
Ser Boros hesitated for a moment before opening the door, and Jaime gave him a good-natured nod of the head as he passed and entered the room.
Cersei was sitting in her solar at her writing desk, though it was clear her hand had not touched the parchment that lay before her.
Her golden curls cascaded beautifully down her shoulders, complimenting the blood red of her gown, an entrancing vision in the colours of their house and he had been captured hook line and sinker.
Embroidered lions matched the gold pendant hanging low around her neck, and Jaime couldn’t help but follow the path it created down towards the valley of her breasts, her skin smooth and unblemished against the gleaming metal.
His twin’s unimpressed glare was waiting for him when he finally looked up from his thorough appreciation of her beauty.
‘A matter has occurred that I thought should be brought to your attention, sweet sister.’ He said genially, flashing her one of his most charming smiles.
She reached for a glass of wine that stood on the desk, taking a long sip before answering.
‘As the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is it not your duty, dear brother, to sort it out? I requested to be left alone. ’
‘Oh, I have.’ He said casually, ignoring her last statement just as she ignored the fact that he had disregarded it.
A common enough occurrence over their long years together, Jaime had grown used to recognising his sister’s half-hearted attempts to maintain her annoyance, and seeing it then made him smile even as her features set in disapproval.
Oh, she was annoyed to be sure, but it was the kind of superficial irritation that was built specifically for him to break through.
‘Then what, pray tell, do you intend to tell me about?’ she asked, a dramatic blend of boredom and acidity that would usually send all but a few scarpering back into their holes of fear and obedience.
‘Treason.’ He replied simply, rather enjoying watching her expressions as he let the moment drag on.
‘Treason?’ She looked disinterestedly into her wine glass, swirling its deep red contents. ‘Of what kind?’
‘Oh, conspiracy, espionage, regicide. The violation of a queen. You know, the usual.’
She froze before looking up at him directly in the eye, understanding dawning in her mind as their eyes told each other all they needed to know.
‘Jaime.’ She said after a long pause. There was no question in her voice.
‘Yes, your grace?’
‘What have you done.’ She asked sweetly, her words punctuated with the knife edge of accusation.
‘I helped him, that’s all’. He shrugged noncommittally.
‘Helped him how, exactly?’
‘Uhh-’
‘Specifically.’
‘I simply freed him from his life of pathetic stupidity.’ Jaime said brazenly, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a few steps closer towards her. ‘Gave him a new one. He should be thanking the gods for me.’
‘Jaime.’ His sister said, raising an eyebrow at him, and he was sure that her reproachful tone was laced with a subtle but noticeable layer of thinly disguised amusement.
‘It was a kindness.’ He said, seating himself on the edge of her desk.
‘Did your kindness include your sword, by any chance?‘ she asked slowly, cocking her head to one side as she looked up at him.
He pretended to consider.
‘He always did lack coordination.’ He said conversationally.
There was a long pause.
‘You killed him.’ Cersei deadpanned.
‘I killed him.’ Jaime agreed matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Another long moment passed as they stared at each other, matching emerald eyes sparkling in the afternoon light as neither one backed down.
‘Seven Hells Jaime, do you know what you’ve done?’ Cersei hissed finally, her chair scraping along the floor as she stood up suddenly.
‘Yes. I stabbed him through the bowels then through the heart for good measure.’ He followed her into her chambers, stopping abruptly when she whirled round to face him.
‘Did you think before you did it?’ she chided, irritation flashing over her features as he reached out to pry her wine glass from her hand, but too proud to go and get it as he set it down on the nearest table.
‘Also yes. I thought that I wanted to do it.’
‘Jaime, that’s not what I-‘
‘There was nothing to think about.’ He said indignantly, ‘Our dear cousin was meddling where he shouldn’t have been. I made him see that.’
‘Do you realise what problems your kindness could give us? Did you think about that?’ She said exasperated, taking a step towards him as she searched his face for answers.
‘The way I see it, it’s a problem removed.’ He stepped even closer to her, reaching his good hand out to finger the pendant around her neck, his fingers lingering against the soft warmth of her skin. ‘And besides, it’ll be weeks before anyone even notices he’s missing.’
Goosebumps erupted under his touch, and in her eyes Jaime could see that she knew what he was doing, yet she made no move to pull away.
Her features had softened somewhat, and he could see it was getting harder for her to maintain her annoyance with him.
After all, she more than anyone knew that a dead Lancel was not worth her energy.
‘Where is he now?’ she enquired softly, fighting to keep her face straight as she refused to look anywhere else but his face.
His face, which was now firmly trained on watching his fingers glide over the upper edge of her gown’s bodice.
‘Floating towards the bottom of Blackwater Bay I presume.’
He looked back up suddenly as she turned her back to him then with a swirl of her skirts.
‘Did anyone see you do it?’ She asked, and Jaime could practically hear the smile that graced her lips that she was so trying to hide from him in that moment.
‘I’m not that great of a fool, Cersei.’ He grinned, taking his opportunity to press himself gently against her back, the warmth of her body drawing him in as naturally as a blazing fire beckons on a bleak winter’s night.
‘You’re sure?’ She added for good measure, leaning back every so slightly into his embrace as his hands curled around her slender waist.
It was times like this when Jaime most missed his hand; sword fighting was one thing, but to be unable to feel his lover against his fingers when she was right in his arms was a torture even the Gods could not be cruel enough to devise.
‘Mmh hmm.’ He murmured against her skin, his nose nudging along her neck as his lips ghosted slowly over the little pleasure points there that made her breath hitch in anticipation.
She smelled of lavender and honey and beautiful summer nights, and Jaime knew that there was nothing to match in the entire world, nothing else more healing than the most complex of balms, more intoxicating than the strongest of Arbor wines, more dangerous than the deadliest of poisons.
He could drown in her happily, and never once would he look for a way out.
She was all the air he needed to breathe, and he had been forced to hold his breath for far too long.
‘No one goes near the queen without the Lord Commander’s permission.’ He growled lowly into her ear, his grip tightening on her hips as he pulled her still closer against him.
He let his hand trail up her body, slowly loosening some of the ties at her breast until he could slip his hand inside the bodice, her skin warm and soft, her heart beating in time with his own.
‘Well, I suppose someone will have to inform Uncle Kevan about this tragic accident.’ She said breathlessly, and despite her best efforts to sound nonchalant, her body was the greatest betrayer of all, and Jaime felt her tremble under his touch as his palm cupped her breast, his thumb teasing gently over the hardened nipple, making her shiver.
‘Sounds like a job for the Lord Co-‘ she started, but Jaime had had enough of the pretence.
He spun her around and kissed her, hard, and it took no time for her to respond, her lips parting to allow him access as she kissed him back just as fiercely, with just as much frenzied desire.
With a quick glance towards the door she led them towards the couch, her hands pulling deftly at his clothing, his own working much more slowly at her corset.
His leather coat came off much quicker than his armour would have, and he divested himself of his shirt, discarding the garment somewhere on the floor before they fell onto the long seat, uncaring of the discomfort in their haste to be far, far away in the land where pleasure was plentiful and desire ruled over all.
‘Hurry, Jaime.’ she urged between kisses as he worked to pull up her skirts, and she moaned softly when he slipped a hand between her legs, finding her wanting and ready for him.
His cock strained painfully against his breeches, but when he pulled back to untie the laces there, the sight before him made him still for a moment.
She could very well have been the work of a great tapestry, a dreamer’s vision, lying there before him. Her golden mane spread out wildly across the embroidered covers, her emerald eyes dancing, her sweet lips parted gently, her cheeks flushed rose pink and the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing laboured with desire. Her delicate gown lay half-open and askew to tease her nakedness underneath, and her long legs, with pale skin as smooth as silk, beckoned him in towards her with their tantalising promises.
She was a goddess of another world, made to be worshipped and admired in her beauty unparalleled by anything the Seven Kingdoms and beyond had ever known.
And she was his, from their first day until the end of their days.
Her hand on his leg pulled him back into action and he groaned with much needed relief as he freed himself from his confines, his length hot and heavy and hard against his hand as he lowered his body towards his twin.
Cersei arched into him as he entered her roughly, their shared moans lost against each other’s lips as they were joined, finally home, finally whole, the aching emptiness of separation forgotten now that all pieces were once more as they should be.
They moved together as he thrust deep inside her, their movements borne with the practiced ease of a beautiful dance, and he groaned into the crook of her neck as she hooked her legs around his waist, inviting him in impossibly closer, filling his senses so completely until there was no more her or him, just them, together, one soul burning golden bright in the darkness of the world.
Her nails dug into his shoulder as she gasped his name and urged him desperately on, and Jaime increased his pace, longing to give her that haze of blissful pleasure that was only his to give.
This was no time for leisured lovemaking, full of honeyed words and soft caresses - and indeed they were rarely afforded such a luxury. What they were allowed was hurried and quiet and urgent, as heady in its secrecy as it was thrilling in its passion, desperate and unstoppable and as necessary as life itself.
They felt that keenly now, the purity of life that emanated from their joining, radiant and powerful, and it pushed them on as they reached the limits of mortal pleasure, their release coursing through them as hot as alive as the blood that ran through their veins.
Jaime felt his twin shudder beneath him as his seed spilled inside her, and he kissed her sweetly as their movements slowed, their foreheads coming to rest against each other, completely unable to bear the thought of parting.
‘You’re mine.’ He whispered gently against her lips, feeling her smile as she kissed him again in reply. ‘And I won’t ever let you go. Not for anyone or anything. Fuck everything else. We’re the only ones who matter, the only ones in this world. ’
A thousand years they would have stayed in their reverie, unburdened and at peace, their lips captured and limbs intertwined as one, had their next kiss not been interrupted by the loud thud of a knock on the door.
They broke apart at the sound, but amid the warm, cosy mists of their intimacy it took them a long second to realise what was happening, as though waking from a deep sleep, before the mists parted and the cold winds of reality came seeping through.
‘One moment!’ Cersei called out as they hurriedly parted and started to dress themselves with renewed consciousness, their hands working double time to fasten their clothing.
Jaime could see the panic rising in his twin’s eyes, though he himself felt strangely calm.
Their father would never come to Cersei’s chambers, so anyone else could be dealt with in one way or another. They had the power of deniability that came with their status – depending on the intruder, of course – and if that didn’t seem to work, well, accidents happened all the time in King’s Landing, after all.
Or maybe this was the time to ask for Cersei’s hand, maybe their moment had finally come in an unexpected and fateful design of the Gods. Perhaps Cersei would soon swell with his child, and additional rumours could help them force their father’s hand to allow them to live together as husband and wife. Maybe this little unfortunate happenstance could have a happy ending after all.
Either way, their day of judgement was soon upon them, for they were still working on the last of their fastenings when the door swung open unceremoniously.
They looked up simultaneously, each preparing themselves for the worst.
Cersei huffed beside him as Tyrion strolled easily into her chambers, looking between them unfazed before helping himself to a glass of wine.
He moved to settle himself on the couch then seemed to think better of it, and took a nearby chair instead.
‘What are you doing here?’ She demanded, her features forming into a glower as she watched their brother, though Jaime could hear the slight unsteadiness in her voice, and knew she had felt the same relief that he had on seeing the only person in the city whose intrusion held no consequence.
‘Apparently House Lannister has one fewer member.’ Tyrion announced, looking up at them quite innocently. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’
The look that Jaime received from his sister then told their brother all he needed to know.