Long May She Reign
A/N: Wow, it truly has been a long time since I've posted anything. I apologize for the long absence, but real life obligations and the like. But this time...I bring you something new! It's short, I'll admit, but it's a different fandom I'm dipping my toes into this time.
Game of Thrones! Ah, yes! I love this show so, so much, and I need to keep myself occupied while we wait for the final season to air. That being said, this piece is my take on Maggie the Frog's prophecy! Not going to spoil it, but give it a read and see how you like it. All constructive criticism is appreciated! Love you guys!
The pulse burned, penetrating deep into the callused pads of his fingertips. There had been a rush of adrenaline in the beginning; almost panicked, feeling the beating of her heart resonating beneath the hand that wrapped so tightly around her porcelain skin.
Arousing.
That suspenseful thought slithered through his veins at first and, all the while, piercing blue eyes found hers and penetrated deep inside. The seconds ticked away one-by-one, feeling a familiar touch upon his hand, but it was all for naught—desperate attempts, hoarse pleas—they had all been lost to him now. They lie there, the stronger of the two bearing down upon the other, and for the briefest of moments, his attention turned toward something else entirely. There, in a dimly and eerily room lit by candlelight, their silhouettes could be seen twisting about in a macabre dance, for which there would be no audience.
Magnificent.
He could feel the beating of her heart against the palm of his hand. And when his sights turned down to the woman beneath him, there was but one nagging regret as she began her slow and agonizing descent into the Strangers arms: that there was but one hand, sadly, and not two. He had wanted to feel closer to her in these last few moments—wanted to embrace her fully as her reign came to an end. Like he once had.
What follows? What would be the legacy left behind? Madness? Treachery? There were so many words, but love? Love would never be a word anyone in the seven kingdoms that anyone would describe house Lannister. It didn't matter, though. All of Westeros be damned, because this moment? Ah, yes….this moment belonged to him and his beloved.
All of these thoughts began emblazoning into his mind and never aloud. The only sounds that registered in his ear were her feeble attempts to speak his name breathlessly, all the while, trying and failing to slip her fingers under his that stood harshly against her neck. Hot, laboring breaths fell down upon her rapidly discoloring face and, as he solemnly smiled down at her, he had felt the fight draining out of his love.
Release.
"No one has ever loved you more," Jaime leaned down slowly to whisper against her ear as she beat her fists against his broad shoulders, "Or hated you more...than me."
There. He felt Cersei tense quite suddenly and, when he rose up to study the face of his beloved against the warming glow of the light, felt a hot tear roll down his hand. This was it. His whole life, everything he had worked for, had ever lived for, began to unravel in this moment. He made his peace with his decision the second he reached out for that sweet, delicate neck of his sisters; everything she had been and was drove him into a lovers madness, unfolding and drowning in a breathless sea of welcoming torment.
"Shh," Unknowingly tightening his grip around her throat as her visage began to blur through his own maddening tears. "It'll all be over soon, I promise."
Another tensing jerk could be felt, but those tightly gripped fists against his back held still and her heartbeat slowed with each pulse. Her face twisted in fear, skin turning blue and eyes reddened and puffy from tears. And as he stared down, he felt that last beat. Her arms slackened a fraction of a second later, only to go limp and fall quietly to the mattress beneath them. The dramatic climax, though, came when her pupils dilated and he watched sullenly as the light went out in them. It was only then that he released a forceful breath and realized that his hand ached from squeezing with such ferocity. His twin. His lover. His soulmate….slain.
"Long may she reign."
Poetic.