The Lannisters deserved better.
"I want to talk to the prisoner," he says.
He thinks they will step aside because he is Hand of the Queen, because of this stupid pin he has, because he has power – the power Daenerys gave him.
"You will not," the Unsullied respond.
They tell him to go away.
Power. A joke.
He's no dragon, he never was. He doesn't breathe fire.
Lions are running out of power, it seems.
.
Fire. Fire is power.
Everything burns to the ground.
.
She didn't touch the Red Keep. It must have felt good, thinking of Cersei watching her precious kingdom collapse.
He used to dream of fire, of the moment he would burn the damn castle himself, burn those years of scorn and humiliation.
He realizes it was never a dream.
.
Nightmares.
His were never so frightening.
.
She has Jaime brought in front of the Keep and she makes him sink to his knees, she makes him watch what has become of his golden city, his golden dreams, and now she's going to make him pay for his betrayal.
"Get her," she tells the Unsullied. "And bring her here. I want her alive."
.
If Cersei could see her now! he thinks with a sick, twisted pride as he stares at Daenerys. She really is a queen – a mad one, but a queen all the same.
"I won," she tells him. "See? I won."
Pride is what he thinks he's feeling. It was what he used to imagine, the dwarf and the dragon side by side, burned into glory.
"We won," she corrects after a while. "Are you happy?"
Because he's a coward, he doesn't look at Jaime and nods.
.
Madness is really beautiful.
He almost wishes he were mad too, so they could still have something to share.
.
The Unsullied bring her Cersei and throw her at her feet.
His sister, whom he's supposed to hate so much.
Lies do not come so easily now.
.
"And so she spoke, and so she spoke,
That lioness of Castamere,
But none remain to mourn her reign,
So proud but founded upon fear."
She must have thought about this for hours.
He never knew she had such a beautiful voice.
.
Cersei is weeping as she clings to Jaime. They are one, now, as they were in the beginning, as they will be in the end. It's poetic. He should like it.
He's never liked death. Death is final. Death is fire and dragons and mad queens.
Death is his love for her.
"Don't kill them," he asks. "Send them into exile. You won, you said it yourself."
She tosses her hair and laughs.
.
He should have known better.
A lion has no power.
.
"The choice is yours," Daenerys says with ashes in her hair and fire in her eyes. "Them."
He glances at his siblings. Beautiful golden fools they were, thinking they could escape the dragon's wrath. Daenerys turns to him.
She smiles.
"Or me."
.
She has them locked in a cell.
"They'll die tomorrow," she says again, a mad smile on her lips.
"Why?"
"Why do you care? They both failed you. Jaime left you behind to go back to her. Cersei hates you. It's you and me, now."
"They're my blood."
"Blood..."
Blood isn't new to her, she knows what it means. Blood and ashes – it's the same, it's always been the same.
.
Blood of my blood.
If she had said the words, everything could have been different.
.
"You could have Casterly Rock. It could be yours, now and forever."
The Rock. He barely remembers it, now. It's been covered by the ashes.
"I don't want Casterly Rock."
"You could have Sansa Stark."
Sansa. A forgotten marriage, a kiss on her hand, a secret that should have been left unsaid – it's not enough, never enough.
Ice. He's never liked ice.
"I don't want Sansa Stark."
.
She's toying with him, he knows she is.
She knows what he wants – what he wanted once.
.
"You could have me."
She kneels so she can be at his height. His heart starts beating faster.
"We could be great together. We could rule the entire world."
"What about Jon Snow?"
"Jon Snow is a wolf. I want a dragon."
.
A dragon. Her dragon.
Why didn't you say that sooner? he thinks, desperate.
.
"Think about it," she says, sounding like she knows what his answer will be, sounding like she knows exactly what is inside his mind.
"I'll be waiting for you tonight."
.
Everything is perfect.
It feels good to be inside her, to touch her, to kiss her lips, her body. She's his, now, and he's hers – it's better than anything he could have hoped for.
"The world will be ours," she says after they have finished. "They will all bow before us."
She grins.
"I wish your sister could see that. It would kill her, seeing me take what she thought was hers."
"What will you do to her?" he asks.
"I'll rip her belly open," she answers in a joyful voice. "And I'll make your brother watch. Maybe he'll die of a broken heart. If he doesn't, I'll feed him to Drogon."
She lets him climb on top of her, probably thinking he wants to kiss her again.
"I love you," she tells him.
.
I love you, she said.
He's been lied to too many times.
.
He leaves bloody footprints behind him as he wanders the corridors. The sight makes him feel dizzy.
He didn't expect her to bleed that much.
.
A dagger through her heart, and that was the end of it.
She wanted blood. That's what he chose, after all. The blood on his hands and the blood in his veins alike.
His blood.
He's a lion. Lions aren't meant to be with dragons.
.
They're both chained to the walls of the cell when he arrives. They can't touch each other. They were supposed to spend their last night in this world apart – it feels so wrong.
When he frees them, when Cersei runs into Jaime's arms, it feels right again. They cling to each other, feeling whole, feeling they are one soul and this very sight makes him smile.
Lannister blood.
Daenerys couldn't understand.
.
"Why?" Cersei asks him, bewildered. "You love her."
"I do," he admits, because he's no creature of lies, not anymore, with wolves, dragons, it all felt fake, but lions cannot lie to one another.
He looks at Jaime, and then at Cersei again.
"But I love you more."
.
The blood in his veins – in their veins.
No one could ever understand.
.
They leave King's Landing behind and he doesn't glance back, not even once.
Jaime smiles when he wraps his arms around him.
"Thank you, little brother. I love you."
And then Cersei sighs and nods – there's no need to lie anymore, not to any of them, not to herself. So-called hatred is a thing of the past, and he's not even sure it was real – there was always something else.
Daenerys thought they hated each other, and that was her mistake and her misfortune alike.
"Thank you, Tyrion."
She pulls him close and he smiles at her, a real smile, not the one he gave to Daenerys.
"I love you," she says.
They all start sobbing at the same time, clinging to one another as if nothing else mattered anymore.
The blood in his veins.
Daenerys used to say his siblings would be the end of him, but she was wrong.
They are his beginning.