She laughs when he asks her for mercy.
He can see them so clearly now – the embers of madness in her purple eyes. They've been there for a long time, he knows (and he liked it, he really did) but now it's different. It used to be a glint.
What he sees is an explosion.
"Mercy?" she repeats.
She looks down at Jaime and pretends to think about it.
They both know what she's going to do.
.
"Dracarys."
.
He lost a great deal of things today.
A dream. A future. A lover.
A brother.
.
It's hard not to cry. It's even harder to flee without being caught by the Unsullied.
For the first time in a very long time, Tyrion is glad to be a dwarf.
He won't look back. If he does, he's lost.
So he runs.
.
He's caught, of course he is. Cersei wants him dead. Anyone who brings her his head will be raised to lordship. It doesn't matter, though. King's Landing is where he was headed.
It's almost too easy.
.
The men who caught him throw him at the foot of the Iron Throne.
Cersei. A monster. A murderer.
His sister.
When he looks up at her, when their eyes meet at last, when she sees the tears rolling down his cheeks, she understands at once.
"Take him to the black cells," she says.
.
They're both in mourning.
They finally have something to share.
.
She visits him in his cell.
"How did it happen?"
She looks terrible, he's certain that she hasn't slept for days.
"She captured him after we lost Highgarden," he tells her. "She made him kneel. I begged her. I begged her and she laughed. Then she burned him and she made me watch."
She doesn't respond and simply leaves.
Tears of sadness, tears of anger – he doesn't know.
.
"What was it like to bed her?" Cersei asks.
Tyrion doesn't ask her how she found out. She knows him, he knows her. Hate is as strong as love when it comes to bind two people together.
"It felt good," he answers, provocative.
"Did it feel good too to watch her burn hundreds of people?"
He should be horrified. He isn't. The best part of him died along with Jaime. He thinks of the Sept of Baelor.
Cersei and him are more alike than they think.
"It did. But she burned Jaime. My brother. She crossed the line."
She smiles, almost satisfied, but not quite.
"Would you like to see her burn?"
He remembers her body, her breasts, her lips, how he felt whenever she let him touch her.
He nods.
"Yes."
.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"No. Death would be too sweet for you."
.
One night, she has him brought to her bedchamber. She's drinking a glass of wine and doesn't even glance at him. He shivers. He almost wishes Daenerys had burned him too. He won't like what is next, he knows he won't.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"You heard me. Take off your clothes."
He doesn't move. She raises her eyebrows.
"If you refuse to obey, I will have my guards take them off for you."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Her smile is cruel.
"Because I can."
.
Shame never killed anyone, it is said.
.
She stares at his naked, twisted, disgusting body for a long time. He thinks she's going to murder him. Humiliation won't be enough.
She lost her other half because of him and she wants to make him pay.
After an eternity, she looks away.
"You may go," she simply says.
She doesn't have to say it a second time. He grabs his clothes and storms out of the room.
.
At least, she doesn't send him back to his cell.
.
It's like a game.
Every night she sends for him and every night she commands him to take off his clothes. The shame he felt is almost a thing of the past, now. He has nothing left to hide – his pride is long gone.
He wonders how she hasn't grown tired of this. Sometimes, she tells him to go. Sometimes, she tells him to get dressed again.
"I'm going to lose this war," she confesses once after she's drunk two or three glasses of wine. "That whore is too strong. She has three dragons. I don't stand a chance."
It makes him angry, seeing resignation on her face. He could never understand why she was so hateful but he does, now. He thinks of Daenerys sitting on the Iron Throne – he would gladly be called the Queenslayer.
"She killed Jaime. She burned him alive, she burned him right before me. She can't win. We can't let her."
.
He won't let her.
.
"Aren't you done humiliating me?"
"I'll never be done humiliating you."
.
One night, she's so drunk she can't even stand. She doesn't seem to be thinking clearly – she almost scares him.
She makes him undress, of course. Even drunk, she just won't leave him alone. There is a very odd glint in her eyes – it reminds him of what he would see in Daenerys's, of what he sees in his own eyes whenever he looks in the mirror.
"Get on the bed."
"What?"
"I said get on the bed."
"You can't be serious."
As a reply, she grabs him, almost hurting him, and throws him on her bed herself. Then, she climbs on top of him and her lips crash against his. And Tyrion doesn't move, doesn't even think, doesn't control anything anymore.
She kisses him hard and there is no love, not at all – this is pure hate.
This is pure hate, and he likes it, and he hates that he likes it.
She doesn't take off her gown, she certainly doesn't allow him to be on top. This is about control, this is about revenge.
"Jaime," she moans. "Jaime, Jaime, Jaime..."
When they're done, she rolls off.
"Get out."
.
He feels like crying. He feels weak. He feels disgusted.
I fucked my sister, he thinks again and again, unable to fall asleep.
(I let my sister fuck me would be more accurate.)
.
I let my sister fuck me and I liked it a darker Tyrion thinks, one who was born when Jaime died.
.
She doesn't send for him for an entire week after that. He finds himself wandering in the Red Keep. He could leave if he wanted to, Cersei wouldn't notice his absence until it was too late.
The old Tyrion would have run away at once.
(The old Tyrion wouldn't have slept with his own sister and liked it.)
Tyrion wants revenge and Cersei is the only person in the world who can give it to him.
.
"Do I have to undress?" he asks when he's called into her bedchamber again.
"Well, that depends."
He notices that she's not drunk, this time.
"Do you want to?" she says.
Did you like it? is what she means.
The smile on her lips is a mocking one.
Better than with the Dragon Queen, wasn't it? she seems to say.
Thinking of Daenerys makes him angry.
He's the one who kisses her first.
.
It becomes a nasty, twisted habit.
She never takes off her clothes, she never lets him touch her, she never lets him take control.
She never screams his name, of course – Jaime's, always Jaime's.
She hates him, she hates him so much – all of this was supposed to be a humiliation, she never expected him to like it, she never expected this darker version of himself.
Sometimes, she tells him to get out as soon as they're done. Sometimes, when she's too tired, too sad or too worried, she lets him stay.
She tells him of wildfire, of how she'd like to use it against Daenerys.
"She could never withstand it," Cersei says. "It would feel so good to watch the Unburnt burn."
"Yes, it would."
.
He loved her, once.
His love couldn't withstand Jaime's dead body.
.
Cersei is losing the war. She wants revenge but she spends her days mourning Jaime and her nights fucking Tyrion. Her mind is far away from the war going on.
"Jaime is dead," she tells him one night when he crawls into her bed. "We were supposed to leave this world together."
Because she tells him her innermost thoughts, he thinks that she's drunk, but he can't smell the wine on her.
"I should throw myself from the highest tower in the Red Keep."
"What about revenge?"
"Revenge? I'm not blind. I'm losing. She will bring fire and blood to King's Landing within a month."
She starts sobbing.
.
They don't have sex that night. Instead, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She lets him.
.
Is that what Jaime used to see? Tyrion thinks when the sun rises and streams through the windows, lighting up her tired face. She seems so tranquil now, so peaceful.
Cersei is beautiful – when did he stop noticing that?
What a fool he was, thinking Daenerys was the most beautiful woman in the world. That is what the old Tyrion thought, but he's long gone now.
.
"We just need to kill her. Her dragons would never obey anyone else. If she dies, they will fly away. If she dies, it will all be over," he whispers when she wakes up.
Her green eyes are like wildfire.
.
"Do you still hate me?" he asks.
"I hate her," she answers.
.
She doesn't command him to get out anymore.
Whenever she has a nightmare, he lets her cry into his arms. Once, he dares to kiss her forehead. She doesn't push him away.
.
"Let me touch you," he begs as she is taking off his clothes. "Please."
"Why?"
"I'd like to see you. I'd like to kiss you. Please, let me."
He wants this time to be different. He wants more than just hate sex – he wants what he used to have with Daenerys before his love turned into hatred. He wants what Cersei used to have with Jaime.
He wants to make love.
"All right."
She lies down on her back, finally allowing him to be on top. He takes off her gown and the sight of her naked, perfect body feels like heaven. He gives her gentle kisses instead of hard ones, he thinks about her pleasure before his own and it feels better, so much better than anything he has ever experienced.
"Tyrion..." she moans.
It's the first time she's cried his name – he hopes it won't be the last.
.
Gods damn the time they both lost hating each other.
.
In the end, this is very simple.
Daenerys is at the city gates. She wants Cersei to surrender. Tyrion smiles, the darker Tyrion, the one whose heart is beating with hatred.
Cersei agreed to let him do it as a favor, one he might never be able to repay.
Daenerys would never expect him to long so much for revenge.
She smiles when she sees him. She came alone, without her dragons – an offer of peace.
"I don't want to burn down the city," she says. "If you and your sister agree to surrender, I will let you live."
"Will you?"
He comes closer, thinking of the times he kissed her soft lips.
I fuck my sister, he wants to say, just to see her reaction. I fuck my sister like I used to fuck you, and I like it better. She doesn't pretend to be good like you do. She knows she's a monster, and she likes it. I like it.
"I'm sorry things ended like this between us," she says. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"You killed Jaime. My brother. You fucking burned him alive."
She shrugs and sighs.
"He was my enemy."
That's the last thing she will ever say. He grabs his dagger and stabs her through the heart. She doesn't even scream – she just looks flabbergasted.
"You never should have hurt my family. You thought I was a lion with no claws. That was your biggest mistake ever, even if you didn't realize it."
He pulls out the knife and turns around, leaving her bleeding in the mud. Her soldiers are probably not far – they will find her soon enough, or rather what is left of her. Without their mother, her dragons will be as lost as little puppies.
He will be safe. Cersei will be safe.
.
"Is it done?"
He nods.
"Revenge... I had forgotten how good it felt," she tells him.
Cersei is a monster – he's a monster too, now, of his own making. They're so alike, and he loves it.
"We will be safe," she goes on. "The three of us."
"Three?"
She takes his hand and leads it to her belly.
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
He smiles, they both do. He doesn't know if the child is his or Jaime's, doesn't even care.
Blood and murder – it is what torn them apart and what brought them together.
It is what will keep them safe – their little lion will be safe.
Nothing else matters.