"Why have the Gods made me love a hateful woman?!"
Jaime spat the words at the ground more than at Cersei's sobbing form. He felt his heart race from panic and anger, and his eyes darted from side to side as though the answer could be found somewhere on the cold, solid floor of the Great Sept.
Kill Tyrion. She wanted him to kill Tyrion, his own brother, over nothing more than a hunch! But Jaime was not surprised by her outrageous demand, Cersei had always been hot-headed, and, even more predominantly, fiercely protective of her – their children.
No, he knew this would be what she wanted, but confronted with this demand he didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he should. He hadn't noticed how much he had changed whilst on the road with Brienne, but now he was home with his family it was apparent he was not the same man. Yet Jaime knew the man that left was the man Cersei wanted and he was trying so hard to be him, to be the Jaime everyone knew.
He knew he couldn't kill Tyrion, but would old Jaime have thought the same? Suddenly an anger washed over him, he was angry at this choice, and at Cersei for forcing him to make it. Before he knew what he was doing he darted forwards and grabbed Cersei by the hair, forcing her head round to look at him.
"You are a hateful woman!" He meant to growl the words at her but they came out as more of a whimper, like he was pleading with her.
"Hateful?!" She cried incredulously, looking half mad with her eyes full of tears, the golden blonde hair they shared had come loose from it's styling and made her look wild. "He killed our son Jaime, our first son, my Joffrey, my poor baby boy..."
Her eyes left his as she continued to sob incoherent mournings for the dead boy on the altar. His gaze fell on the corpse that lay before him, Joffrey looking so much more innocent in death than he had ever done in life. He had been there when Cersei had screamed him into the world, she had cut off the blood in his hand she had squeezed it so hard. With a jolt he realised that he no longer had that hand. He had spent so long lamenting the loss of his sword-wielding he had forgotten what else was cut from him that day.
He felt a lump in his throat and looked down in shame as he realized how much he had failed her, his family, his son. But he couldn't kill his brother. He knew how the rest of the family felt about Tyrion, but Jaime could never quite bring himself to hate his strange little brother.
"We don't know that he..." his voice broke and faltered but Cersei knew how the sentence was going to finish.
"Don't know?" she scoffed, "He hated Joffrey, he hated me, he was there, you saw him!"
"Cersei, half the kingdoms were at that wedding. You know Tyrion, he may be many things but he's not stupid, and even a stupid man knows not to be seen at the crime he commits." Jaime knew what he was saying was true, but he didn't know whether he could make Cersei see.
"How are you defending him?" Cersei whispered as though in horror.
"Because he is my brother Cersei! What if he didn't do this? If he dies then we will never find vengeance for Joffrey! His killer will laugh at us whilst, whilst we cry 'Justice!'" Jaime felt anger boiling within him again, this time for the honour of his family, and how quickly Cersei would cast it aside for a fake attempt at revenge.
He expected an outburst from Cersei, a hate-fuelled speech on how Tyrion killed their mother or something of the same ilk. But she just crumpled as though she'd been crushed by a weight, and all that stopped her from hitting the floor was Jaime's arms. As he caught her, he felt what strength had been holding her up for so long leave her. Sobs racked her body as she clung to his arm and chest and for the first time he saw the full extent of her grief.
She seemed broken and Jaime wanted to piece her back together. His instincts screamed at him to fix it, to make her better, but he didn't know how and it killed him. Stroking her hair as he lowered them both gently to the floor, he cradled her back and forth. He made generic comforting noises, not knowing what to say at all. He was out of his depth and it made him want to scream.
It must have been at least an hour they sat like that before Cersei's crying began to subside slightly. Eventually they just sat in silence, Jaime still rocking them gently.
"We could leave you know," Jaime finally broke the quiet in the Sept and his voice cracked the air like a whip, despite it being no more than a whisper.
"What?" Cersei didn't move and the word came out raspy and cracked.
"We could leave here, sail across the narrow sea with father's money, live peacefully out there somewhere in the free cities. We could have as many children as you want, and they would be safe." Jaime wasn't sure he believed a word he was saying, he didn't really want to leave Westeros, but he would do anything to make Cersei happy again... and he had to try.
"No, what about Tommen, and Myrcella, what about the children we already have?" Cersei felt like she was trying to get up, and he heard the panic in her tone.
"Shh," Jaime tried to calm her again, "We could take them with us, forget this whole crown business. It's already taken Joffrey from us, does it really matter that much?"
This time he couldn't stop Cersei from sitting up straight and looking him in the eyes. Hers were red and her face had turned blotchy, yet he still thought she looked beautiful to him. He knew then that she wouldn't leave, and he couldn't change her mind. It made him want to kiss her.
"Exactly! Our son died for this crown! And you just want to give it up for an easy life?" Jaime had wanted to make Cersei happy, but seeing fire in her eyes again was enough of a compromise for him after she had seemed so empty. He lifted his right arm before remembering the gold monstrosity attached to it, he quickly lowered it and instead used his left to stroke her cheek and tuck a wayward piece of hair behind her ear.
"I don't want to leave either, but I would, if it made you happy." The words left his mouth before he realised what he was saying. He panicked slightly as he realised that old Jaime would never have been so honestly affectionate.
Cersei's eyes widened slightly, but then she leant in suddenly and kissed him with such force he felt his head spin. It was the first time she had kissed him so passionately since he returned, having refused all of his advances. He felt his body react to hers as she pressed herself against him.
Then his senses returned to him and he pulled her bodily away from him. Cersei's eyes look hurt and then suspicious. He scrambled to explain.
"Not now," he managed, gently but sternly, "Not here."
"Why not? You've always wanted to before. What makes here so unappetising to you?" Her voice was full of sarcasm and he sensed her hastily trying to put up her shield, the one she had always worn around Robert.
"When I have you, it will be because you want me, and love me... and missed me." He added the last bit quietly, trying not to feel bitter about how she had rebuffed him so easily after he had been gone for so long.
"Jaime..." Cersei started softly but her held up his gold hand, cursing himself slightly for forgetting to use his left.
"I won't have our first fuck in months be because you need a distraction." He said stiffly.
To his surprise Cersei nodded.
"I'm..." Apologies had always been hard for Cersei, but Jaime was shocked at even an attempt and decided to spare her the rest.
"I know" he whispered against her cheek as he embraced her.
She buried her face in his neck and he felt her begin to cry again. He clutched her to him and as his eyes once more lifted to his dead son he felt a tear drop down his face. He felt exhausted and as he and Cersei sat curled up in the centre of the Great Sept he wondered if either of them would ever get up again.
Jaime decided that he didn't care.