Special Appearance POV: Cersei Lannister. Hope you enjoy!

warning: Cersei and Jaime mention (though no smut).

Also, let me make a musical recommendation (before/during or after): Monster by Meg Myers is perfectly suited to this chapter, check it out. Let me know what you think.

They are speaking together of what they loved in vain here,
but the air is too thin to carry the things they say.
They were young and golden, but they came on pain here,
and their youth is age now, their gold is grey.

Yet their hearts are not changed and they cry to one another,
"What have they done with the lives we laid aside?"
Are they young with our youth, gold with our gold, my brother?
Do they smile in the face of death because we died?

from Requiem: The Soldier by Humbert Wolfe

Cersei

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All her life, Jaime had been the one constant; her blood, her twin, someone to trust and to love. After he'd returned from his capture in the North, that had all changed, for a time. Then their son had died, and they were once more the only two in all the world. It is not without irony that the death of their second son, their last son, did it change once more. She'd known it the moment their eyes locked when she'd sat on the throne; he'd returned, but he would never come back to her. Not willingly.

That night, after the celebration which was not what one could call joyous, she stole to Jaime's chambers where he sat with a glass of wine, staring out at the stars. He was not pleased when he saw her, she could tell, but she used her charm, the weapon between her legs, and the fact that he loved her still to seduce him, and she had her way with him in the very chair he sat, and then he had her again in his own bed under the stars and the moon and the gods.

When she woke in the morning, he was gone.

She did not see him much from that moment on, unless she summoned him, which she was often too busy to do. For a time she ruled with obedience and fear, but little by little, her hand's little birds brought word of their treason and defiance. The people loathed her and she was always having to punish them for it. They would not love her, but she would ensure they feared her.

Then when word of her own usurper Queen arrived, and Ser Ilyn was killed, she saw no one except Qyburn, and the Mountain never left her side, not until it was necessary.

Only twice did she ever see him without summons; the first, when he'd asked to be her new executioner. He hardly looked her way when he asked for the position, and though she acquiesced he was too relieved to notice the subtle changes in her. She was not feeling well and had been sitting on the throne, a heavy crimson cloak with large gold lions fastening it closed, draped over her though it was not cold. He did not seem to care.

The second time, he appeared the day after the dragon soared the skies over King's Landing.

"She will arrive in the capital in a matter of days, with her dragons… there is no way we can hope to defeat her. We must leave Westeros, it is the only way we will survive."

She was too glad to see his beautiful face to properly reprimand his stupidity, so she only said, "I will burn this city to the ground before I give it to that Targaryen whore."

He did not seem pleased in her reply, and she was not surprised. She knew of course, how he tried to protect the common people, how he loved them, though they were not worth it. She only let him do it, out of love for him. When he'd asked to become her new Ser Ilyn, she thought it appropriate. A proper payment for his disloyalty to her, he would take the lives he could not save.

"What is there left for us here?" He exclaimed. "Are you willing to die for the sake of your pride?"

She looked at him with cold hard eyes, "If I must."

He looked at her for a long moment, until finally she saw his resign, as she knew he would, as he always did. He did not usually agree with her, but he always did as she asked.

"Then you must invite her into the Red Keep to talk peace," He said, his voice solemn and resigned.

"And I will kill her."

She turned to look at him once more, intrigued by his words. Could it be he was finally on her side?

He told her of his plan, and though it was a clever plan worthy of a Lannister, it had its flaws. Her dead husband had always said Dothraki were skilled warriors, and Jaime was not the fighter he'd once been, and she was not confident he could do it. There was too much weakness in him and too much that could go wrong. There was one way that had never failed her, where death was sure. She opened her mouth to tell him this, but he spoke first.

"Where's the Mountain?" He asked suddenly, it seemed he'd only just realized his absence.

"I've sent him on an important mission."

He nodded but did not speak, as if he waited for her to explain. She would not tell him, some kind of sanity amidst her crimson insanity told her that she could not trust him with the knowledge.

"So brother, how do you plan on doing it?" She asked, deciding she would say nothing of her previous thoughts, and thinking of her own plans as he spoke.

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The night before the usurper was set to arrive, as she took her sup alone in her chambers, he came to see her. Though he looked gaunt and black rimmed his eyes, he was still beautiful and her heart fluttered as he took a seat at her table and poured himself a cup of wine, refilling hers as well. He drank nonchalantly, and smiled at her, and though he tried to hide it she could see how forlorn he truly was. She was not surprised when he made one last attempt to convince her to flee.

"Cersei, there is still time. Let us abandon this folly, and leave before it is too late for us both."

He reached out to her then, taking his hand in hers, "We're the only two in the world. We have not lost if we have each other."

She smiled, entwining her fingers with his. She imagined them somewhere in the East, him a sellsword perhaps, or a soldier in a vast army, but when she tried to envision herself as his simple wife, a child in her arms, she could not see it because it was not a life meant for her.

She understood his doubt, he'd not been by her side the last time she'd burnt her enemy to a crisp. She had not failed then, and she would not now.

"I will not yield. Not now, not ever. She will never have this city alive."

His lips went up, but it was not joy he expressed, there was only misery and surrender. He drained his cup, then he stood and walked around the table until he stood at her side. She never took her eyes off him and it felt as though her heart beat loud in her chest at every step he took.

He pulled her chair out and without a word, he lifted her from her seat and carried her over to her bed. She did not speak for fear to break the spell, so there was no sound but the crackle of the fire and the rustling of fabric as he undressed her.

There was tenderness in the act, such as there had not been since they were young and after he brought food and wine to her bed where they laughed and talked of their childhood. She fell asleep in his arms.

She had dreams that night of Casterly Rock, where she saw Jaime and herself, running through the halls of the castle only to end up in the arms of their mother… She dreamed of her children, Joffrey when he'd been a just a boy and Myrcella a little girl and Tommen had been but a babe in her arms. She had been happy in those moments, but the dream became nightmare as their deaths played out, one by one, and she could not take it anymore, and then she woke.

"Think about what you are doing."

She heard someone say before she opened her eyes. She quickly realized she was no longer in her room but in a vast decrepit chamber that smelled of smoke and salt, and the ground was hard beneath her.

"I know what I'm doing. I'll get you your bloody-"

She sat up slowly, and the voices suddenly stopped. Though her head pounded she looked around, and saw Ser Bronn standing across from her brother, a few feet away.

"Where are we?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

Jaime approached then, a wineskin in hand. He crouched as he opened it before giving it to her.

"The dragonpit," He answered simply.

She took a sip from the skin only slightly disappointed it was not wine. The water felt cool and refreshing as it slid down her throat.

"What am I doing here?" She asked, sounding a little more herself.

She reached to soothe the ache in her neck, and realizing the ground was nothing but dirt she moved to stand, rejecting Jaime's help when he extended his arm.

"Leaving," He answered.

Ser Bronn gave him a questioning look at his reply, but said nothing. She remembered then it was the day of her murder plot, and she knew she was missing it. Her anger grew as she realized her brother intended to take her away, even without her consent.

"I am not going anywhere!" She yelled though her own voice rang in her ears and moved away from him.

She looked around the chamber, looking for the way out. When she saw the archway, and the faint glare of the sun, she nearly ran towards it, thinking Jaime might stop her. She was not wrong as he started following her steps.

"The Targaryen has likely already reached the castle, and I ordered our army to surrender. The city is hers."

Though she was urged to leave, she could not help smiling at his words, and turned to look at him.

"Oh sweet brother, did you really think I believed you would kill the Targaryen slut? You, the Knight of Mercy, saviour of the people?"

He looked at her with shock and horror, and her satisfaction only deepened.

"What have you done?" Jaime asked, his voice deep and full of shame.

"Only what I have always done. I made sure I won. Fire is a rather poetic end for a Targaryen, do you not agree?"

"Wildfire?" He exclaimed then.

She scoffed before answering, "Of course not, why would I burn my own castle to the ground? Only the throne room was in desperate need of a new look."

She turned away from him and stepped over to her brother's right hand, who was oddly silent.

"Ser, seeing as you've attempted to stop my brother from kidnapping me, I shall give you the benefit of the doubt. Escort me back to my castle, and I will give you your lordship, and a better wife than that silly girl I saved you from."

He looked over to Jaime before turning back to her and bowing, "Your grace," He said.

She turned to the exit once more, leaving the men behind and entrusting Bronn to convince her brother to follow. She was not sure of his loyalty, but for now she needed him and she trusted his greed. Later, she could have the Mountain find out the truth.

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The walk was fairly quiet, they did not see hardly any peasants as they approached the Red Keep. They were likely there already, which served her purpose as well. She would teach them once and for all that no one was going to save them.

When they reached the square, half full of peasants and nobles alike, they could not see the flames, only the smoke rising into the sky. As the crowd came to realize their presence, they easily parted to let them pass, watchful but silent. They entered the outer yard which though nearly bursting to the brim, gave them wide berth as well.

It was not until her brother Jaime touched her arm just above her elbow that she saw a small figure emerging from the fire engulfing the throne room. Her white hair fluttered around her, looking like pale flames as she descended the steps unashamed in her nudity, and Cersei could not deny her beauty. She did not know how it was possible but it did not matter.

"Fire cannot kill a dragon," The Targaryen said then, her voice strong and loud in the silence of the watching crowd.

A dark skinned girl approached her then and wrapped a fine silk gown around her.

"Swear fealty to her Cersei," Jaime whispered in her ear, sounding desperate.

"She will let me take you home."

It was a lie, she knew it, and her poor brother had fallen for it. Somehow, underneath her own nose and despite Qyburn's many spies, the dragon whore had stolen him from her, and her Jaime had turned on her. And then she remembered suddenly, the words of the witch.

You'll be queen, for a time. Then comes another, younger, more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear…

"Cersei of the house Lannister," The Targaryen said then, as her handmaiden moved back.

She let him guide her forward, a stream of supplications for her to bend the knee and ask for mercy pouring from his lips. She wanted to laugh at him, for his stupidity, for his love now, when he was betraying her. She locked eyes with her enemy, hating the woman who'd condemned her brother to be her traitor.

Jaime let go then, and though she felt his gaze heavy on her she could not look at him. He stepped away from her, but did not go far, and then the new self imposed Queen spoke.

"I will not bother to name you usurper nor traitor as there can be no doubt amongst any who stand here today that your loyalty is only to yourself."

"In the great game, there is no middle ground," She replied forcefully, using words she'd once said years ago.

The Targaryen looked at her with pitying eyes.

"Indeed you are right."

She looked away, glancing to the people surrounding her and though Cersei had been tempted to do the same, she did not. She could not feel their fear, nor their hatred, only their joy and awe in her enemy, and she did not want to see it with her own eyes. She kept them trained on her usurper, and waited for her to resume.

"You have been brought here today not only to swear fealty to the crown, and to pay for the harm you have inflicted among the seven kingdoms, and the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of innocents as you played your game."

She did not miss it when the Targaryen turned to Jaime, and though this was meant to be the moment where she would get her chance to swear fealty, she knew her words were intended for him only.

And when your tears have drowned you, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.

"You will fulfill the oath you swore to the rightful crown of the seven kingdoms, and to the people of Westeros once and for all."

She could not find it in her to fault him for his betrayal, it was not as if she did not know who she was, she seemed only to have finally had a moment of clarity, in which she realized there was nothing left for her but death. In that light, she knew there was only one thing that mattered now. It was only at this that she let the mask fall, and gave up the game. She had played and lasted longer than most, but she had finally lost.

She had long since known this day would come though she hadn't quite expected it to end this way. History would repeat itself it seemed, though at least one of her children had avoided the hands of her enemy. Though Tommen... had died by her own. And she knew, she deserved what was to come.

She turned to face her brother, her expression a mixture of despair, resignation and love... for she loved him still, even now when it was the silver haired Targaryen whom he belonged to. Her rival stood close enough to hear their conversation and see the look Jaime gave her in return and she took satisfaction in knowing that it would surely haunt the new Queen for the rest of her days.

She smiled then, at her twin who looked more broken man than fierce lion, and said to him unapologetically, "It seems fitting it should be you. What else have I left to lose but you? Though I admit I always expected Tyrion to be the one."

The tears pooled in his eyes finally slid down his face but still he did not move. She gazed at him softly as she reached up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks and cradled his face, "Fear not little brother. Our golden cubs wait for me."

She understood now, what her father had always told her. Family and legacy were what mattered, not the whims of sons and daughters. She had not been cursed by a witch. She had lived her life for herself and brought horror to any against her, and she knew there was no one to blame for it, for the death of her children, her father, and the betrayal of the one she held most dear, but herself. It was no curse, only a self-fulfilling prophecy. And she had finally come full circle.

It was then that her brother moved and she felt his hands, one warm one hard and cold, at her neck, but his touch gentle. She felt him press his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss, all the while tears streaming down his face. It was the first time their lips had ever touched in the presence of another, and though she felt the eyes of those around her, they did not matter.

He loved her still, and though she began to feel his good hand encircle her neck, she knew Jaime would be a better lord than any Lannister, her father included, had ever been. If her death gave him life and Casterly Rock, then she would give it gladly. She broke apart from him, and looked him in the eye for the last time, and spoke before the noose of his hands began to tighten, "You mustn't blame yourself, my love. I am to blame, only me."

She dropped her voice down, and moved her mouth close to his ear so none heard but him, "I poisoned you for so long, I see that now. Tommen and Myrcella... they came from you. You are a Lannister and a kingslayer, but you are a good man. A new legacy for our family."

When she moved back and caught his eye once more he spoke.

"I love you," His voice was but a whisper, frail and cracked, and he kissed her softly once more.

She smiled gently, her arms dropped to his chest, feeling the beating of his heart against her palm, "We'll always be together."

And then, he squeezed. Holding her close, the last thing she heard him say was, "We're the only two people in the world."

She felt her arms drop from his chest and wanted to tell him 'not anymore' but there was no breath in her, only darkness.