I haven't written Jaime/Cersei in what feels like ages. But then I watched an amazing video and was inspired. The video is Jaime & Cersei | Still. by Kayenaatic. You should really watch it; if not for me, if not for the vidder, if not for Jaime/Cersei, then do it for the gorgeous Nikolaj clips.
There might be some mistakes because English is not my native language.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Evil Santa Martin.
They have a second chance. It is perfect. Things are different, but everything is just as it should be. He's with Cersei, and this time there is no fear of getting caught. In this life, he can kiss his sister in the street and be a good father to their child. In this life, everything is perfect.
This world is dark and dangerous like Westeros, but he doesn't care. He might not be a knight in name here, but he will still do anything to protect the love of his life - and their child. Nothing can come between them. Not this time.
Both of them are different on the outside. Cersei's golden curls have become a rich auburn. His own hair is darker as well, torn between blond and brown. Their eyes, however, are the same. The same emerald green in which anyone can drown. They're not the perfect reflection of one another anymore, but that does not concern him. Because, in this world, no one knows that they are related. No one knows that the happily married couple has been born twins in another life. No reason for them to hide anymore. Besides, he does not miss their resemblance that much. Cersei is still the same to him, and he is still the same to her. And their eyes, the window to the soul, are identical. Nothing has changed on the inside.
He still remembers when it happened. Jaime has never trusted witches and their lot. But Cersei was excited. It made her look paranoid, that glee on her face. She had found a way to have a second chance, she told him. Jaime knew how much Joffrey's death had devastated her. She loved that boy too much and would do anything for him. Jaime, however, had never expected that she would go to such great lengths. That she would turn to magic.
He feels someone shaking him softly. He knows that it can be no one but her. He thinks that although he finds their new life perfect, she doesn't feel completely the same. He thinks he knows why. Cersei wanted a second chance with Joffrey, but instead they have a daughter who is fortunately not like their firstborn. They are not the richest family in this world, nor is their job about power (he imagines that Cersei would want to see him as a Congressman or something of the sort, but instead they write books together - with great success, actually). There might be more reasons, but he never asks. He doesn't want to be hurt by her answer, he doesn't want to lose what they have here. It's selfish of him and he knows it, but he can't help himself.
When he opens his eyes, he sees a smile on her beautiful face that can't be fake.
"Good morning," she tells him.
A smile spreads on his face as well. It's so nice, so refreshing, and so amazing, to be woken up by Cersei. He loves making the slow ascend from slumber with her by his side or with her guiding him to awakening.
"Morning," he replies, the smile never leaving his face.
Sun rays, making their way in through the window, are falling on her face, making her look younger. She seems so ethereal, so much like a goddess that he almost feels like it would be wrong to touch her.
"Have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?"
She rolls her eyes as if she's annoyed, but he can see that she's actually proud of herself. "Only a few hundred times," she says. "In both of our lives."
And he shall tell her a hundred more. No matter her age, no matter the world they live in, no matter the clothes she wears and the colour of her hair, she will always be the most beautiful woman that he has ever seen. Even grief-stricken and mad after the loss of their son, she was still oh so beautiful. He still remembers the determined look on her face as she cut her palm open with a knife and let her blood ooze out of the wound, as she did the same to him, as she watched the spell being performed.
He strokes her arm with the back of his hand. Her skin is so soft. And it's all his. She doesn't belong to someone else this time. He doesn't mark her as his own. This isn't about possessing her. This is about belonging together, as always, and being together properly for once.
"I love you," he says, a small part of him still not believing that this is real, a small part of him still afraid that she will disappear, that this perfect life will crumble and fall as suddenly as it began.
"You've said that many times as well."
"I know," he laughs and pulls her down on the bed with him.
She feels real in his arms. Their kiss feels real as well. This world feels real. This house. This family. But if, by any chance, nothing is real, he will hold on to this dream as though for dear life as long as it lasts.
Um, I don't know how I feel about this. Feedback is greatly appreciated.