Author's note:
Okay. First of all: This is going to play out just like it did in the books / tv show. I honestly simply thought that there was a little more to them. Never really a chance, no. But not for lack of trying. Their story has been spinning in my head for quite some time now. I had to get it out. (:
Second: I don't know yet how far I will take it. Probably two more chapters of Cersei and one or two of Robert. We will see.
Characters are not mine. GRRM owns everything.
Cersei
The first time she laid eyes on him, she almost tripped over the hem of her dress. How very tall and powerful he looked, standing right next to the other men in the room. The rumors about him were true, she noted, much to her own surprise. He did look like every maiden's fantasy. No, she corrected herself, Jaime was what every maiden's fantasy should be like, wasn't he? Her beautiful golden lover, gleaming like the sun. She had heard all the stories, of course, of Robert Baratheon, the Demon of the Trident. But the darkness and the danger in him were visible as well. He certainly was good-looking, she mused, with his wild, raven-black hair and his blue eyes and that face, all cheekbones and sharpness. Mayhaps he was a maiden's fantasy after all. A dark fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. But there was something else about him, his gaze was fierce and his body tense. Almost as if he were still a knight fighting at war. She could see him on the battlefield, a ruthless killer, war hammer in hand. She involuntarily shuddered. A handsome devil, indeed. Ah - but he wasn't a knight any longer. He had claimed the throne, our bloodthirsty, revenge driven new king. By tomorrow night, she would be his queen. The notion excited her more than she had thought it possible.
She came back to her senses when her father called out to him. Robert turned his head towards them and their eyes met, only for a split-second, before Cersei blushed and lowered her head. How was it that she suddenly felt nervous and unprepared? Her heart was racing and she silently cursed herself for behaving like a stupid love-sick maiden. She unwillingly thought of Jaime and how he had fucked her from behind last night, silencing her moans with his hand, while their father slept one door down the corridor. She was no maiden. There was absolutely no reason for this skittish behaviour, she thought, absent-mindedly smoothing the front of her dress. The king had approached by now and her father had already begun to introduce her. Finally, with new found courage, she looked up to him. He was so tall that she had to crane her neck a little to comfortably look into his eyes. He was a lot taller than Jaime, even taller than her father, who was towering over most people. His eyes were hard when she met them, but with a sense of relief she realized that they were also hungrily roaming over her. Not that she would ever truly question her appeal, she knew she was beautiful. Her father had stopped talking, she noticed. Intuitively she offered a delicate hand to the king. It seemed it was the right thing to do because he took it and bowed down, his lips softly lingering on her skin before kissed it. ‚My lady.' he said quietly. He had a lovely voice, she decided, dark and quiet. Putting on her sweetest smile, she curtsied and simply said ‚Your Grace'.
‚You must forgive me but I still have more business to attend to.', he said, a little dispassionately. 'Your father will show you around the keep in the meantime. Please let me know if you are in need of something.' She nodded politely but was a little disappointed that he would not spend some more time with her. Surely he could spare a few minutes? She feared that she might have misread the look in his eyes. She would have to find out. She knew he had favored the Stark girl, his former betrothed. Biting her lip, she recalled what Lyanna had been like. Where Cersei was petite, light and soft, Lyanna had been pale and harsh, a tall, wild thing. 'Wolfblood', she remembered her father explaining to her brother once. The king had already turned and gone back to the great table and his men. With a last look at his broad shoulders, she let her father lead her away, leaving the king to his duties.
She saw him again at dinner, a few hours later. His eyes kept coming back to her form at the opposite side of the table, she noticed proudly. She had chosen to change her wardrobe. She was now wearing one of her finer dresses, a rich, deep red fabric that clung to her form in all the right place. He would talk with some Lord whose name she had forgotten for a while, but his eyes would always shift back to her, stealing glances. She could feign ignorance, she knew. But she felt brave and light-headed tonight, so instead she sought out his gaze. Once his eyes locked on to hers, she deliberately wet her lips. His eyes were fixed on her lips for a moment before they shot back up to her. He arched his brow at her. She put on a small, seductive smile only to see him break contact. She cursed. ‚What were you saying, dear?' one of the ladies who were sitting next to her asked her innocently. She easily lied to the woman, muttering something along the lines of 'not feeling too well'. She waited for him to look upon her once more, tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't seem to see her anymore. Atfer a while she gave up and quietly excused herself from the room.
She had only made it through the two main corridors when she heard someone behind her. She turned her head and, much to her surprise, found that it was Robert who strode over to her at a quick pace, the sound of his heavy leather boots echoing through the halls. His face was set, his eyes were cold and although she did not know the man, she could tell that he was angry. A little chill went up her spine, but she knew she had to wait for him to catch up. He was only a few feet away now but did not seem to slow down. A little frightened, she took a shaky step backwards. ‚Your Grace…', she started, but he had already caught up with her. In stride he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her with him, never slowing down, until her back hit the nearest wall. He drove his body into hers, caging her like an animal with one of his hands on either side of her head. Adrenaline coursed trough her and she felt as if her heart would simply jump out of her chest at any second. Her chest was heaving, her breath heavy from both pain and fear.
‚Look at me, woman.', he commanded, his sharp voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly she was hit with panic and her mind began to race. Why was he so mad, had she done something to anger him? Would he .. hurt her? When she wouldn't move, his hand shot up to her neck, roughly grabbing a fistful of her long, golden hair. He pulled it down hard, tilting her head up. His head was bent down and they were almost nose to nose. She grimaced warily. She knew violence, had seen it in men far more often than she cared to. She wondered if he liked violence. Robert stared into her eyes as if he was looking trough her, searching for something inside of her. Paralysed, she just waited and stared right back into the heavenly blue, wondering how this beast of a man could have eyes this alluring.
He couldn't find what he was looking for, it seemed. ‚What are you up to?', his face was twisted. He had spat the words out like they were poison, as if they left an uneasy feeing in his mouth. His eyes were still fixed on hers, his face an angry mask. 'I don't like playing games, lion.' She tried to make sense of his words, of what was happening, but she found that she could not think when his hard body was pressed against her. Although her whole being was humming with apprehension, she couldn't help but notice the way that her breasts were squeezed tightly against the rough fabric of his coat. She tried to wriggle away, but it only made things worse. Because of the friction that her motions had created, her nipples had hardened. She couldn't deny it any longer: she was aroused. How humiliating, she thought, that a lioness had fallen prey to a stag. He smelled of leather and sandalwood and something entirely male. It made her dizzy. She wanted to kiss him, to try to regain control of the situation. She needed to act, even if it meant acting upon her heedless desire. But she found that his grip was like iron and she she could not move at all. She realized that she would have no other choice but to give in, to beg. She could still get some sort of control, she thought. And for the second time that day a blush crept up her cheeks when she looked into his eyes and breathed: ‚I want you.'
The look in his icy blues was one of surprise. To his merit he quickly regained his composure and once again set out to search her face with a steely resolve. 'He expects me to lie', she realized. But it seemed that instead of a lie he found her lovely cheeks rosy and her eyelids heavy with lust. His eyes travelled down to her glistening lips, full and partially opened. He was suddenly very much aware of her shallow breathing and her sweet curves, pressed tightly into his body. His eyes shot back up to hers. They were no longer steel, they were the raging ocean. It was decided, then.
He let go of her hair and gently started to trace his fingers along her slender neck, his thumb caressing her collarbone as if to make up for his roughness from before. She shuddered. He encircled her with his other arm until her slender frame was wrapped up even tighter in his massive body. She couldn't stand the tension any longer and innocently lifted her arms to rest on his chest. The motion seemed to undo him. His mouth hungrily came down to hers. She welcomed him with eagerness, their tongues clashing and melting together. The hand that had gently caressed her only seconds before was now kneading her breast through her fabric of her dress. So this was what it must be like in the hands of the devil, she thought giddily. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his erection against her stomach and tried to arch even further into him.
'Is this really me?' she thought, 'This weak and shaky creature, wet at the mercy of a stranger?' This was different, she realized. The unbidden image of her twin came to mind. Much different from Jaime. Her perfect twin would always do as he was told, and although he would fuck her roughly every now and then, she was always the one to say so, the one in control. Why this man undid her so, she did not know. It unnerved and thrilled her at the same time, this new position she found herself in. Fear and lust were simultaneously coursing through her veins, her senses were heightened, her need strong. This was better, she feared. Much better.
He growled and swiftly lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips, aching to be closer still. Gods, she needed more. His mouth was on her neck now, licking and sucking, the stubble on his chin, teasing her delicate skin. Her hands were tangled in his thick hair, pulling him closer, urging him to go on. He began to ground his hardness against her soft centre, their centres meeting, again and again. 'Robert..', she softly moaned at his ear. He bit down hard on her neck. She almost came on the spot, squeezing her eyes shut with pleasure. He stilled. There was a voice, calling for him. She tried to concentrate and recognized the voice to be Jon Arryn's. She knew Robert would have to return, but she needed him inside of her, on her, around her. She started to sensually slide her core over his cock. She felt it twitch in response. He groaned into her neck and slowly licked the spot that he had just bit, forcefully grinding into her once more. He moved to set her down, untangling their limbs. She wanted to protest but found she had no voice. Her feet were back on the ground but he still held her close. If it were not for the heated look in his eyes she would think that he had been completely unaffected by what had just happened. She remembered the huge bulge between his legs then, and knew better. He eyed her hungrily. One of his big hands wrapped itself tightly around her throat. He bent down until his mouth was hot at her ear. 'See that you are well rested.', he ordered and she felt his deep voice vibrating inside of her when he spoke. ‚Tomorrow I will fuck your sweet little body into oblivion.' Her heart spluttered. Then his mouth was on hers once more and he kissed her slowly, tenderly before he left her there, shaking against a wall.
King Robert of house Baratheon was both terrifying and beautiful, she thought, and there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she loved him.