JAIME
She was standing by the window when he entered, clad in red silk and Myrish lace, her hand playing with a fine necklace of silver and amber. The room was dark, lit by a single torch, but her hair glowed with a golden light all its own. His lady love, his twin self, his sweet Cersei. She turned as he stepped towards her and smiled at him. "Jaime..." she said, and then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her sweet lips...
I have starved of this, he thought, as he felt his sister's lips on his, her arms wrapping around him, her breasts against his chest. He began to work at untying the laces that held her dress on...
Cersei's hands pressed against him, as she backed away. "Jaime," she whispered. "Not now."
Jaime stood there, abashed. She is right. I... Stannis Baratheon has been more than fair with me, and I... would repay him by making him a cuckold... "I... I am sorry, Cersei," he began. "Seeing you like this... I lost control..."
Cersei shook her head, and walked over to a small chest. "It's no... I forgive you." She opened the chest. "Now hurry! We must act quickly." She pulled a heavy cloak out of the chest and tossed it at him. It fell quite short, and Jaime watched as it landed on the ground. Cersei continued to pull things out of the chest, oblivious. "There's a horse in the stables, waiting. I use it for riding... some days. You will have to saddle it, but... I... we can be at the docks, in an hour or so, and be gone across the Narrow Sea before they..."
Jaime blinked. "Cersei... Cersei, what are you talking about?"
Cersei stared at him as if he had gone mad. "We must flee, Jaime! Flee to Essos!" She looked at him, green eyes flashing and luminous. "They'll never find us there! We-we can take new names, live as man and wife! You can make a living as a sellsword, perhaps, and I... I'll be your lady! They won't know us, they think one Andal the same as another..." She gave a fervant nod. "It will be perfect!"
Jaime listened to the excited babble issuing from Cersei's lips and suppressed an urge to ask if he was going to carve out a little kingdom to call their own eventually in her wild imaginings. "Cersei..." He took a deep breath. "Cersei, will you listen to yourself? This is... madness..."
Cersei blinked. "Jaime, he means to send you to the Wall!" She gave out a strange noise, half a growl, half a sob. "The Wall! You'll freeze, and shiver, and... and die up there, alone, without... without..." She picked up a cloak she'd set aside, and began to put it on. "Hurry! Get on your cloak!" She gestured to a little bundle in the chest. "And make sure I don't forget those! They'll pay for passage!"
Jaime stared at the bundle. "You mean-you haven't actually gotten us passage on a ship?"
Cersei stared at him, as if he was mad. "Of course not! I'm the Queen, Jaime! I am watched! Always watched! By the court... By Sta-my hu-the King... By father..." She shut her eyes and shuddered. "But the boats always come and go. It should be easy to get one to take us where we need to go. To Pentos. Or Braavos. Or Norvos. Or some such place. It doesn't matter where. Just that it's not here." She turned to look at him, and her eyes went wide. "Come on! Get on your cloak!"
"Cersei..." Jaime sighed, and shook his head. "I am not doing this." He half expected her to scream at this, or shout, or burst into tears. Instead she simply stood there, her mouth wide open, her eyes glistening. "I... Stannis did not do this to me, Cersei. It is my choice. I chose to take the black. I... I must regain what I have lost." He bit his lip and looked out the window. "The realm... they all think it is when I killed Aerys, and perhaps... perhaps they are right. But I... I do not know. Perhaps it was earlier. Perhaps it was when fa... later. All I know is the white cloak brought me shame. Perhaps the black will bring me honor."
"Honor?" spat out Cersei. He turned to look at her. Her mouth was no longer hanging open-now it was moving, clenching open and shut as if she was trying to find words that would convey what she was feeling. And her eyes were livid with rage. "You chose... You... That frozen... It..." And then she began to laugh. "You joined the White because you wanted ready access to my cunt, you little..." she said in what was half a guffaw and half a snarl. "Honor? You talk of...? You..." She stared at him for a moment, then rushed forward, and began to rain blows on him. Jaime made no move to stop her.
She is... simply distraught, and not thinking about things, he thought to himself as her clumsy fists struck his chest. Really, they don't even hurt. "Honor!" she cried. "You and your honor!" She spat on his feet. "I have misjudged you! I have never known you! Not the real you! My golden lion!" She gave a bitter laugh. "My yellow kitten more like it!" She glared at him, as she stepped back. "Well, no longer mine! It is good you're going off to be a crow now! It suits you better to be a scavenging bird." Her eyes regarded him with immense contempt. "A coward like you! You are no lion!" She turned away from him. "I have been a fool! Mention this to no one! Gods, I almost fled my husband for you! You! A false lion!"
Jaime found himself growing irritated, despite trying not to be. "And I suppose the king your husband is a true stag..." he muttered.
Cersei snickered at that. "Oh, rest assured, he is. That I know beyond a shadow of a doubt." She gave another laugh. "So do not fear for me, dear brother, as you go seeking your honor up amongst the ice, and the grumkins, and the snarks. I will be well looked after. Indeed, I expect will barely notice you've gone."
Jaime felt an ache in him, a bitter, dull terrible ache as she said all this. I should get out of this room. Now. "Well, I am happy for you," he said, as he remained there. "You've gotten everything you really cared for I see..."
"And you nothing," snarled Cersei. "They despise you, you know. The men who have taken your place in the white. Each and every one of them spits on you. As do I." And once again she spat at him, but this time, she aimed for his face. And struck it, so the spittle hit him squarely on a cheek.
"Cersei," he said, in what was either longing or anger-he did not know-as he reached out to grab her by the shoulder.
She slapped his hand away, and Jaime stepped backward as if scalded. "Do not touch me! Do not touch me!" She angrily waved at the door. "Go! Get out of my sight! I never want to see you again!" She turned around, and gripped her own shoulders with a nervous shiver.
Jaime stood there for a moment, and then quietly left the room. As he shut the door behind him, he heard Cersei burst into tears and loud sobs. A part of him wished to go to her then, but he knew it would not go well. Instead he left the chambers, and walked on. When he reached the battlements, he simply stopped there, and stood looking at the skies. It was comforting somehow, though he found himself wondering if the direction he was looking was north, towards the Wall, or to the east, across the Narrow Sea. He wished that Tyrion were here, or his uncle Gerion. They knew such things. He felt small, and quiet, and for the first time in his life, truly and utterly alone.
