'Cersei sits atop the iron throne, and she will destroy anyone who gets in her way. I have fled to Casterly Rock. I suggest you do the same.' Jaime had received the letter from his uncle 6 days ago, and yet he was still obsessively looking at it every few hours, as if willing the words to have an effect on him. Well, he thought bitterly, a different effect. He knew that what he'd resolved to do was stupid and reckless, that he should follow Kevan's advice and just go back to the Rock, but he was Jaime Lannister, and he was not a coward.
It had been 2 months since he'd received the letter from Cersei speaking of her detainment, and begging him to come and rescue her. He had thrown it in the fire, and tried hard not to dwell on it, but it turned out she hadn't truly needed him after all. After it had become plain to her that he was not going to help, she had sought different saviours. Jaime had heard differing tales from the smallfolk concerning the exact details of her escape, but some of the facts were constant. She'd been in some sort of conspiracy with the Kettleblacks, and Osney had betrayed her to the high septon, which was why she'd been detained in the first place. However, his brothers had been keen to prove their worth, and had chosen the promise of gold over family ties. They had denounced Osney as a liar, and conspired to free the queen, a debacle that resulted in the death of the high septon. Upon her release, Cersei had become mad with fury at the small council, and beheaded each of them (aside from Pycelle, who had fled), replacing them with the Kettleblacks, the Merryweathers, and a sellsword who had been involved in her escape. King Tommen was oblivious to all the turmoil going on, so when Cersei had come to him with several slips of parchment, he had dutifully stamped his royal seal into each of them, and thus unwittingly condemning the realm. The first slip had removed all power from the faith, and decreed that any septon who opposed the change would be marked as a traitor, and beheaded for treason. The second slip had stripped the Tyrells of all lands and inheritances, the spoils of which would be divvied up between the Lannister estate and her new small council. The third slip was the most important. It had decreed that the King's hand no longer had to be a male, and so Cersei had named herself Hand, as well as Queen Regent, effectively making herself the most powerful person in Westeros. There was talk of rebellion across the kingdoms, but for now, she had complete control. And so instead of going back to Casterly Rock, Jaime was headed to the King's Landing to speak to her, and try and fix this mess in whatever way was necessary.
The guards at the door to the Red Keep let him by easily enough, he was still technically Lord Commander of the Kingsguard after all. As he hastened to the throne room, he could hear his heart hammering in his chest. This was going to be the first time he'd seen Cersei since their argument, and he was terrified. He'd always hated the throne room, it was where he'd first realised that his new position was a prison rather than an honour. It was where he'd watched Brandon Stark and his father burn before the mad king, a sight which still haunted him to this day. And it was where he'd slain Aerys II Targaryen, an act that Jaime considered his finest moment, and yet one which the whole of Westeros had reviled him for. Now, though, it wasn't the room that was filling him with anxiety, but the thought of seeing his sister once again. She had played so much a part on his life, everything he'd done up until his captivity had been for her; he'd done many bad things that he was ashamed of, and yet he also had truly loved her, and they were memories that he couldn't rid himself of, no matter how hard he tried. Throughout all those years, he'd told himself that what they were doing was okay, it may be considered unnatural to some people, but he was in love with her. He didn't choose to feel that way, he just did, and he'd always thought she felt the same. But he'd been wrong. It was funny, he thought, without a hint of mirth, it took losing my sword hand, the one part of myself that defined me, to realise who I really am. To realise who she really is. Finally, he reached the great wooden door that stood between him and the throne room. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
"Jaime?" Cersei's shocked voice echoed across the hall as Jaime silently crossed the floor towards her.
"Sweet sister." He replied sarcastically; Cersei was anything but sweet. He could see now that she never had been. She was sitting upon the iron throne, looking resplendent as ever in an elegant pink gown, her beautiful golden hair reaching almost to her waist. And yet he felt not an ounce of desire for her, bitterness had washed that away, and all that remained were painful memories.
"What are you doing here? I'm the Queen, you should ask permission before coming in like this."
"You're not the queen." Jaime stated, looking around to make absolutely sure there were no guards. There weren't, his fool of a sister had left herself unprotected. "And Tommen's not the king."
"You say such silly things, Jaime." Cersei shook her head at him. "You never were particularly bright." Jaime smiled at her with a fake sweetness.
"Maybe not, but that never stopped you stealing into my bed at night, when you grew tired of Robert. I believe that's how we made Tommen."
"Shut up!" She shouted at him, "Do you want him to lose his crown, is that it?"
"I want you to stop this ridiculous act, and set aside your power. You're no queen."
"You've always hated me." She spat at him, and he stared in disbelief.
"Hated you?! I idolised you, Cersei! Every bloody day of my life was about you, I gave up everything to be with you! I thought we would be together forever, as one until the day we died, you're the one who betrayed me. I stayed faithful to you, I've never been with anyone else, but I know what you've done. I spoke to Lancel, he admitted it, and I know about the Kettleblacks too, how many more were there? How many times did you cheat on me? How many times have you lied to me?" She fixed him with a cold stare before replying.
"More times than you could ever know." Cersei whispered. Jaime sighed in anguish. He didn't want to be with her any more, but a small part of him had hoped that it hadn't all been a lie, that she'd been true to him to some extent.
"You need to go," He told her. "Take Tommen and run back to Casterly Rock. Beg Kevan for forgiveness, he has a good heart, he'll accept you, or at the very least Tommen. There are talks of rebellion, Cersei, they'll kill you both. Don't you want to do what's best for our son?"
"My son. He's not yours, he's just your seed, that's it. He's my son. And I am not running away, I'm a lion, just like father was. I shall stand and fight any traitors who come, and they will see what happens when they mess with a Lannister. I'll burn the lot of them if I have to, Hallyne said he kept back a few caches of wildfire from the Battle of the Blackwater."
"You sound just like him." Jaime croaked, his voice hoarse, as he took another step towards her. "You're going to kill thousands of innocent people. I'm already a Kingslayer… I may as well take the next step." And with that he grabbed her neck, crushing it between the fingers of his left hand.
"You're the valonqar!" She gasped, clutching at her throat. "All these years, I, I thought it was Tyrion, but it was you all along!" Jaime loosened his grasp, staring at her.
"What do you mean?" Jaime was vaguely aware that 'valonqar' was ancient valyrian for 'little brother', but didn't understand why she would bring up that word as he was strangling the life from her. And so she told him the prophecy that Maggy the Frog had foretold when Cersei visited her as a child. Jaime stood in stunned disbelief as she finished her tale.
"Everything else in the prophecy came true," she panted, "I knew it was only a matter of years until Tyrion would try to kill me, I had to be safe, I had to stop that wretch. I never dreamed that you would be the one to 'wrap your hands about my throat and choke the life from me'. I thought it would be Tyrion…"
"Everything you've done, all those lies you told, all that crap you've given Tyrion; all because of some stupid prophecy?" Jaime shouted at her in disbelief. "No." He shook his head, and let go of her. Cersei's hands clutched at her throat, gulping back air as colour started to return to her neck. "I'm not going to be part of your prophecy. You've let it define you, and I'm going to show you that it was all for nothing. You're not going to die gasping for air…" He drew his sword from its sheath on his right hip; the scabbard was tight from lack of use, but he barely noticed in his determination to bare the steel. "You're going to die screaming!" And with that, he plunged the tip deep into her heart. He felt the blade pierce skin, and go through flesh and bone, before emerging on the other side of her body, clanging against the metal seat. He yanked it out, and walked away, as the blood ran in rivulets down his sword, Cersei's last dying scream ringing in his ears, and her lifeless body slumped against the throne she'd wanted so desperately.