She loved him. She had for years. Thinking they would die in this war against the undead she had finally confessed.
She was brave, kind, sweet and pure. She would be perfect for him and never hurt him. He had to love her. He had to make himself love her.
His own voice whispered in his head, "You can't choose who you love." He ignored it. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.
So he kissed her. He would make himself love her.
Cersei didn't love him. Couldn't love him. She had been going behind his back scheming and doing who knows what else with that Greyjoy arse.
He remembered what Bronn had once said, "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new." His advice would work. It had to.
He reached to remove her armor. To his surprise she was receptive. Thinking you might not live to see tomorrow had a way of changing one's honor he supposed. Even one as honorable as her.
As the last of their clothing was removed he tried to force thoughts of Cersei from his head. Tried not to wish it was she, not Brienne here in bed with him.
Yet still, In the darkness, he couldn't help but pretend it was Cersei he lay with. He barely stopped himself from calling out his sister's name as he came in Brienne.