This chapter was written as part of the Facebook challenge "Sur Votre 31":
- Invite : ''God/Goddess''.
- Number of words: From 100 to 1000 words.

All the universe of Game of Thrones belongs to GRR Martin, DB & DW.

Enjoy reading!

Context: During/After episode 10 of season 3, ''Mhysa''.

Finally.

Jaime was finally in King's Landing.

He was dirty, ragged and scruffy, with a shaggy beard, blood and dirt covering his face.

But it didn't matter.

He was back.

He was home.

To Cersei.

Cersei... He couldn't get close enough... Yet he was going as fast as his legs would let him.

Since he had left the capital after their little discord, he and Ned Stark, he had thought of only one thing: seeing Cersei again.

He remembered the sadness with which he had come to say goodbye. She had begged him to stay, not to leave, please, Jaime, I beg you, don't leave me alone here, don't leave me alone with Robert...

But he couldn't stay. He had to leave. He had attacked the king's best friend, a king who already did not like him very much. He hadn't killed Lord Eddard, and if he told Robert what had happened, which was probable, his head would be on a spike at the city gates before the new moon.

He only hoped that Robert would not be foolish or evil enough to attack Cersei in retaliation.

So he had gone to join his father who had raised an army against the Starks in revenge for Tyrion's imprisonment in the Val.

Anyway, Ned Stark was still in King's Landing, what chance did the wolves have when they did not have their alpha male while the lions had two ?

So he had left with the idea that he would soon return to his twin sister, once the Starks had been crushed by the Lannisters.

But things had not been that simple, unfortunately.

Jaime had been taken prisoner by Robb Stark, forced to break his oath to Cersei, that he would always come back to her very quickly.

This was followed by long months of incarceration, far, too far, far too far from his half.

If he had had the illusion of being able to escape and leave this damn war camp to return to her when he had killed their cousin, his hopes had been very quickly dashed, when these savage Norwegians had caught up with him and put him back in the depths of his cell, in the middle of excrement and mud.

Against all odds, Catelyn Stark had freed him, against the promise that he would send his daughters back from King's Landing when he arrived there in the custody of Brienne of Tarth.

So he had been dragged at the end of a chain through the Riverlands, until they met Locke and Roose Bolton's men.

If at first he had thought he could get away with promises of gold and the name of Tywin Lannister floating between them, Locke had brought him back to harsh reality by cutting off his hand, his right hand, his sword hand.

And now there he was, in King's Landing, one-armed, filthy, exhausted.

But he had returned.

He walked as fast as he could in the Red Keep.

At first glance, the guards had not recognized him, and had threatened to throw him into the dungeons of the castle. They were soon disillusioned when they finally realized who he was.

He arrived in front of the door of Cersei's apartments.

He hesitated briefly before placing his hand on the handle.

What if Cersei no longer wanted him? What if she didn't want to see him anymore? What if, during his absence, she had found someone else than him, someone to replace him?

He felt foolish to think that.

It was Cersei.

Of course, she would always want him. After all, they had always been destined to be together. What could have changed?

He walked in.

There she was, sitting on her bed, turning her back on him. She obviously hadn't heard the door open, since she didn't turn around when he entered the room.

He had plenty of time to contemplate her, to admire her as the goddess she was to him, fearing only one thing, that it was a dream, a beautiful dream, and that when he was about to touch her, everything would fade away, everything would disappear and he would wake up in a cell in the Stark camp.

Her long blond curls fell in a beautiful golden cascade along her back and bare arms, covering her marble-white skin, like a golden halo, a halo of glory, unreal, like the most beautiful of illusions, the only deity he truly worshipped.

Once he had been silent for long minutes, he finally decided to pronounce her name, like a magic formula that would put an end to all his problems.

''Cersei...''

When she heard her name, she first thought she was dreaming. That she was imagining her voice, because she missed it too much, much too much, as if a part of herself had been torn away from her, which was the case, since they were one.

But she turned around and saw him.

He was there.

Her Jaime was there.

He had come back.

She stood still for a few minutes, which seemed interminable to both of them, not wanting to rush, in case it was a dream whose awakening was only too painful.

Once she realized that it wasn't a dream, and that Jaime was really there in the flesh in front of her, she got up slowly and walked towards him.

When there was almost no space between him and her, Cersei raised her hand and touched Jaime's cheek with her fingertips, as if it would dissipate as soon as her hand touched his cheek.

But it didn't.

And before Jaime had time to react, she had thrown herself into his arms, her warm tears flooding her neck as she buried her face in it, and he could only return her embrace.

He was finally home. With his gilded goddess.

Thank you for reading!
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Don't be too hard on English, it is not my mother tongue.