"In the arms of the woman I love," Jaime replied, his tongue acting of its own accord before he'd had the chance to bid it speak.
The sellsword made some jape about the woman he loved not wanting the same thing, clearly speaking of Cersei. Cersei who ruled the seven kingdoms in all but name. His sweet sister, who took and took and gave nothing in return. The hateful woman who looked at the stump that had once been his prized fighting hand with no attempt to mask her revulsion.
Yes… his one true love. His beloved lover and sister. The Wicked Queen and the Kingslayer. A perfect match, so perfect they had been formed in the same womb.
But to his surprise, hers were not the arms that came to mind. No, his brief reveries called to mind someone far different. Someone softer. Softer than Cersei.
Probably a oneshot, but let me know what you think!
Shelley G