Moon Three (Full)

I Pray That Something Picks Me Up and Sets Me Down in Your Warm Arms

Notes:

- Hey everyone! It's your lucky day; being off on Christmas break, I've had more time to write so here's another new chapter for you guys. I hope you enjoy it!

- Thank you to Hejsokoly for help with architectural descriptions and SkySamuelle for major plotting help! Reviews help my muse and I answer all of them

- I've updated the playlist (mostly mixing in the 'old new songs'). There only two additions since it's been a short time between chapters. Someone let me know that ffnet is being uncool and keeps breaking the Spotify link. Search "King of Winter" (it's by Aspen) on Spotify and it'll hopefully come up. It has a direwolf 'winter is coming' avatar.

- The song that inspired the title for this chapter is Set Fire To the Third Bar by Snow Patrol and Martha Wainwright. Also good are The Call, I Can Wait Forever, Kiss Me Like Nobody's Watching, and On Top of the World. The other sounds that fit would be anything tagged Jaime/Cersei from the playlist.

- I don't recommend reading (or writing in my case!) this chapter around your family and friends.

White Sword Tower was virtually impossible to access without being noticed. That was something Jaime Lannister had learned well about his home of seventeen years. The difficulty was both because seven — technically six currently — sworn shields lived there and because the architecture did not lend itself to sneaking.

The tower was built into the castle wall at an angle where two corners met. Sneaking in from inside the keep was less of an architectural challenge, though the challenge of the men remained. Since the Tower was in the far corner, there was a long gap with little shadow cover to cross. That long gap was the bane of his existence on any moonlit night on which he snuck out to see Cersei. Walking along the wall was almost as difficult due to the amount of men who patrolled it and the risk they would look down. While it wasn't as if he couldn't come up with some excuse, that would be inconvenient. It was easier if there were never questions raised in the first place about why he snuck in and out repeatedly.

From outside the Red Keep, the architecture presented the bigger problem: the only option was to scale the wall. And tonight, if he wanted to see Cersei uninterrupted, that was his only option. It had been too long since he had held her, kissed her soft mouth, felt her skin warm against his with their souls as mingled as their bodies. He missed her as if he was missing a part of himself, so much it almost physically hurt.

Jaime had not been back to King's Landing since the disastrous mêlée he had gotten himself into with Stark. Stupid, rash, the sort of ill-thought-out fiasco that had his name written all over it. Godsdammit. There had been losses on both sides even if the worst had gone to the Northron men. In addition to the losses, he'd had to flee the city before Eddard Stark found a way to have his blood. That had meant he had not seen Cersei in four months. Rather, he'd been playing 'come into my castle' with Godsdamned Beric Dondarrion whom Stark had sent after him. The man was like a bloodhound. There had to have been a better way to avenge Tyrion, but whatever it was, Jaime had been too impatient to wait for it — another of his numerous faults.

But now that it looked for sure and certain that there would be true war with Robb Stark marching south, Jaime knew his Father expected him to command a field force. While the prospect filled him with a source of excited contentment that few things brought him in life (swords, Cersei) it meant even more separation from his twin. And he needed to see her before he went any further from King's Landing than he had gone while hiding out and avoiding the city.

Scaling the wall meant avoiding the gold cloaks while scrambling up a not-particularly-climbing-friendly wall — on a full moon. (Another imprudent, ill-conceived idea). He fought to accomplish the task for the better part of an hour even with a rope but finally managed it. Going down the other side proved (unexpectedly) not all that much easier. He wound up losing his footing and sliding several feet, which resulted in a wonder of when he'd gotten too old for this sort of thing, wounded pride, and a bruised ass.

When Jaime had fled the city, he had not taken his Kingsguard whites or his golden armor to avoid conspicuity. He had left them safely in the undercroft of White Sword Tower where all of their arms and armor was stored when not currently in use. Putting on his Kingsguard armor was likely the best option to avoid detection within the Red Keep — especially if he meant to get close to Cersei. In the darkness, a member of the Kingsguard would barely be looked at. With his his half helm to cover his hair and part of his face, it would be easy.

Fortunately, the undercroft was easy enough to access once he was inside the Red Keep's walls. At ground level, the room was a large vault beneath the tower proper that not only served as storage space but as support for the building above. Its ceiling was a crossed-arch dome that rose to a story above ground before reaching its summit point. Lathed of white stone and white marble, the room looked as elegant as any he had ever seen — undercroft or not. A narrow gallery walkway twisted its way around the upper portion dividing inner and outer walls of the tower. Cinquefoil arches and arabesque railing panels surrounded the interior of the walkway and one could look down into the chamber below while the outer wall had high mullioned windows that let in a measure of light. Out of view, a winding staircase went up all four floors in the tower above.

Tucked beneath the walkway, shallow recesses were carved out. Contained therein were pegs, trunks, wardrobes, and weapon racks where each Kingsguard member was assigned space to keep his own armor, weapons, and so on whenever not in use. Supplies: oil clothes, whetstones, and polish were here too. Jaime could not even count how much time he had spent down here: caring for his armor and weapons or other needed supplies, talking with his brothers in the Kingsguard as they did the same, and often enough using the huge vault space in the center as a sparring area on particularly inclement days.

He could still remember the first time Ser Arthur Dayne had led him into this room. It had felt magical and forbidden — like he wasn't suited to walk in the boots of those who also used it. 'Well, what are you waiting for then? Try it on.' The foggy memory of his mentor said, holding out the last thing for him to don — the white cloak of the Kingsguard on top of the new armor he had already worn. That felt like a lifetime ago. He pressed a palm to the cool stone and wondered when he would be back again. He would miss it. At the beginning, joining the Kingsguard had been, while exciting, a means to an end. It had been a way to see Cersei every day (not that that had worked out so well at the beginning thanks to Tywin Lannister's tirade and resignation when he found out about Jaime's appointment). But over time, this had become his home, these had become his brothers, and a loyalty he could not entirely explain tethered him here. A kingsguard serves for life.

He began to don his armor in quick (but precise and silent) movements. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could see Cersei. The sooner she would take it off. The sooner he could hold her properly. White armor with enamel scales and silver fastenings slid over a leather jerkin like a second skin he was so used to them, and his white cloak ghosted about his shoulders as he shrugged into it's familiarity — both good and bad. He twisted his hair up and slid his helm over it. As quickly and quietly as he had come, he was gone.

Jaime's feet knew the way to Cersei's chambers with an ease of memory from having walked them many thousands of times. He had to force himself to walk slowly in case any of the many eyes in the Red Keep noticed him. He passed a Lannister house guard, a couple of sentries, and two or three smallfolk doing nighttime chores — none of them ever gave him a second look — and a cat that did, but then decided it couldn't be bothered and went back to cleaning itself. Like recognized like after all.

He waited in an alcove, that had seen his use a thousand times for the same purpose, to ensure whichever Kingsguard was stationed near the royal apartments was not at this end of the hall before he crossed to Cersei's chambers. They had a coded knock that had been more in use when Robert was still alive, but Jaime didn't need it tonight. It wasn't yet the middle of the night — not quite — but it was late enough that no one would bother Cersei.

Once inside, Jaime barred the door behind him and looked around. It was dark in the entry room and the solar, but he could see a flicker of dancing light beyond that. He skirted the furniture in the solar as he passed through the darkness. He stopped at the doorway to the bedchamber. A fire crackled in the hearth, and Cersei relaxed languidly in a bathing tub with the light casting her skin in a warm glow and steam from the hot water still rising.

She leaned back on the edge of the tub and her hair spilled to the floor behind her with the water lapping at her chest. She looked calm. She was watching the fire and had a goblet of wine in one hand. She was perfect. She was his world and held his heart in her hands and his desire for her in that moment was so much beyond pure physicality that he would not have been able to put it into words. It just was.

In a silence perfected of so many years as a kingsguard, Jaime slid his helm off and sat it on a table near the door before he crossed behind her and knelt down. Slowly, he leaned around her shoulder and pressed his mouth to hers. Perhaps it was a testament to their connection that, for a fraction of a second, Cersei's lips responded to his as if he was simply part of her before she startled. Her green eyes flashed open and she shot up sending a wave of water and soap over the edge of the tub while the goblet tumbled from her grasp.

Her lips tore from his, and she was ready to hit him when she realized. "Jaime!" And then her mouth was on his again and her arms were around his shoulders, not even aware of the discomfort of soft flesh on armor. One of her hands clenched in his hair so hard it hurt — he didn't care — and the other grasped desperately at his shoulders, soaking his cloak. His answer was a soft sound against her lips with no words but a thousand meanings: Cersei, my sister, my twin, my lover, everything.

The kiss was perfect and messy at the same time with breaths that couldn't align but mouths that fit to each other like a glove, teeth that knocked against each other but tongues that delved warm traces on each other.

"You're soaking wet now," Cersei finally pointed out in wry amusement when she could finally find words again.

"So I've noticed. I wonder whose fault that is."

Cersei giggled with a happiness that warmed both of them. She was only ever that free with him.

Jaime had a fleeting thought that he needed to sit his cloak and clothes in front of the fire to dry or he would regret it in the morning, but that never happened. Truthfully, neither of them had much of a memory of how his armor and clothes got off, only that they did and that when they were, Jaime joined her in the water and was able to hold her the way he'd missed doing for far too long.

He moved so that his back was against the tub and she could lean against him. Jaime noticed, happy as she might be to see him, her back was full of tension and soreness. She always carried strain in her shoulders and back when she was too stressed. "What have you been so worried about, sweet sister?" He asked her, beginning to massage her back and shoulders with tender yet firm hands.

Cersei let out something between a wince and a moan as he began to carefully work the knots from her back. He did this for her whenever she was too upset. She never showed her weaknesses to anyone else and merely carried their weight until she could shrug them off or Jaime took them from her even though they never seemed to weigh him down. "Everything." She said quietly, letting her weight rest back in his hands and tipping her chin down so he could reach the back of her neck when he brushed her hair out of the way.

"Tell me." He encouraged softly as he continued massaging her back, working his hands all along her spine and leaned to press a soft kiss at the nape of her neck that made her shiver.

It's all becoming more than I can manage. Was what she wanted to say. But she refused to be that weak and settled for, "Joff, Eddard Stark — all the Starks actually, war, Myrcella and Tommen, Father burning through the riverlands without there being time for another harvest, people rising up against us, too many kings I can't control — even the one I should be able to, looking like an ineffectual fool in front of thousands of people, what Eddard Stark knows — I forgot to add that to his list because it has a whole separate category all its own…" She probably would have gone on but she had to stop to breathe.

She felt Jaime's lips press against her shoulder and his arms wrap her close against his strong chest. "I will never let anyone hurt you. Never. If they try, I'll kill them." And Cersei believed. Or perhaps it was Jaime's lips on her skin. Either way, she felt better.

He resumed rubbing her shoulders. She could tell he was waiting for her to continue talking, but for a while she just leaned into his hands and let her eyes close. Finally she said, "I don't know what I've done wrong," And her voice broke around the words.

"What do you mean? You haven't done anything wrong." Jaime reassured.

"Clearly I have." She was quiet for a moment and then said, "Myrcella and Tommen are sweet, and gentle, and kind. But Joffrey has become." She took a deep breath. It hurt her to even speak like this about one of her children, but she couldn't fail to notice the truth of it after the fight they had. He had been chilly toward her ever since she struck him. Perhaps she deserved it. Parents were not supposed to hurt their children.

"He's become spoiled, demanding, foolish, even dangerous, and… and cruel." The last word nearly broke her. She could remember when Joffrey was small. He would pat her cheeks softly and giggle when she smiled for him, like a game. When had it changed?

She had noticed as he grew up that Joffrey had become spoiled, had become used to getting his way. But it hadn't troubled her. Perhaps it should have troubled her more, looking back on it. He had been nasty toward Tommen so often that she had recently noticed her younger son was becoming fearful of him and would not be around Joff alone. Myrcella was nearly as bad. More often, she found one of them hiding or crying about something Joffrey had said or done.

Jaime sighed. He knew he was not a good father. It wasn't as if he'd had much of an opportunity to be otherwise. When they were small he could hold them, but by the time they were old enough to risk accidentally saying something… and he had resigned himself to it. He cared for them, but he wasn't attached to them in the way he felt like he ought to be. The few times he had tried to reach out, everyone had just looked at him oddly. The only uncle he had ever been close to was Gerion, whom he still missed. But he fell short of being able to replicate that. He knew it was because he did not know how to walk the line between a father that could never be and an uncle that was too much. So he avoided. Jaime was like that and always had been; it was everything or nothing.

What Cersei said about Joffrey was true though. Even Jaime hadn't failed to notice. Perhaps with Robert gone and not able to be jealous… He took a deep breath. "Joff needs both a firm hand and a stable male role model in his life. He never got it with Robert, and if one of us failed… it was me."

Cersei looked at him over her shoulder. "No. You didn't. You didn't have a chance. You would be a good father. The best." She whispered the last and something low and warm overtook her. "Jaime, would you ever…"

"Yes." And his mouth was on hers as she turned in his lap now with her body pressed close against his warm, hard chest as their lips claimed each other to communicate because Jaime and Cersei didn't need words.

The kisses were long, needy, hungry, filled with every emotion they wanted to convey and share. Cersei shifted so she was leaning against him, her knees to either side of his waist and pressed herself close against him before leaning down to kiss him again and again. She felt Jaime's hands on her in all the places that made her skin tingle and the heat begin to pool in her lower belly. Jaime's hands were slowly, gently sliding up her sides with his thumbs along her front and fingers along her back, splayed around her ribs. He traced soft circles on her skin with his thumbs which made her shiver in delight as he slowly worked his hands up her sides. He was so slow, painstakingly so, but it also felt amazing. Her skin warmed and tingled everywhere he touched her.

His fingers slid along wet, warm skin until his thumbs moved over her breasts and nipples and began to circle them. Cersei tipped her head back and gasped softly as Jaime began to kiss down her exposed throat, neck, and chest. He pulled Cersei a bit higher against him with his arms around her lower back so that he could lean up and wrap his mouth around one of her breasts, which made her throw her head back as he kissed and sucked the tip. Her whole body shuddered in delight at his mouth on her flesh.

She was too high up to be able to reach to kiss him, but her hands twisted in his hair and on the nape of his neck the way she knew he liked. It caused a sound to shudder on her skin from inside him and her body twinned the shudder from a deep place. She felt his hands work down her sides again as his mouth moved to her other breast and his fingers made a path through the water that gleamed on her skin like diamonds in the firelight as his hands caressed long paths up her thighs, over her hips, her ass, her lower back all the way up to her shoulders.

Gods he was such a good lover.

His lips pressed kisses all down her heaving chest until he reached her navel which was as low as he could reach just now, so his lips began the trek back up. He stretched until he could just reach her collar bone and sucked at it causing Cersei to moan softly. He sucked harder and her moan grew while he grinned against her skin from the sound. Cersei had never been loud, but the fervency of her moans made something twist so wonderfully in his gut. His fingers explored along her spine and in the place on her lower back that was so sensitive to them both causing her to squirm slightly and arch her back into his hands.

He sat up a little more and worked her up higher in his arms, feeling her fingers clench harder in his hair, twisting it in knots around her fingers. It felt good, like anchoring her to him. Jaime kept lifting her further until his arms wrapped around the back of her thighs. He kissed and brushed his tongue along her skin all along her navel and then past the golden curls between her legs. He felt her breathing quicken in anticipation as he kissed all around her center before his tongue finally parted her folds and slowly, deliberately slid along her center, dipping inside her for a moment. Inside, she was wet and warm, and how she shivered and squirmed combined with their kisses was just arousing him more. He brushed his tongue upward until it could circle against her most secret, sensitive place and Cersei's squirming turned to writhing.

He could feel her gasping above him and looked upward, his chin brushing against the golden curls between her legs — even that made her squirm now — and watched her face for a moment. He could imagine her emerald eyes would be dark with desire but right now they were clenched shut and her mouth was parted in a small O. Her chest was heaving tantalizingly and her back was arched toward him. Jaime tipped his face down once more and returned to pleasuring her with his lips and tongue. "Jaime!" That single word, the way she said his name, was enough to make his blood race and his cock twitch urgently. It begged attention, but his hands and mouth were busy pleasuring Cersei, so he ignored it for now.

His tongue sought her wetness, took it in, relished in her taste and scent, what was uniquely hers. This was one thing no one else had ever done for her, one thing that was theirs alone. He loved what it made her do, what he could make her do. He could feel her shaking now, struggling to hold herself up with nothing to balance on but her grip in his hair, but Gods he wanted her to come. He wanted her to come around his lips and tongue.

"Please, Cersei." He managed to free his lips from her folds enough to say. It sent her over the edge as her want moistened his lips and tongue and her whole body tensed above him until she came sliding down into his lap, shaking violently. Her skin was so flushed and sweaty and beautiful. The ends of her hair were wet and stringy and her chest heaved against his, dragging hardened nipples against his skin and making him gasp for a second.

When Cersei kissed him, all the while still shaking, she could taste herself on his lips and tongue and in his mouth; she liked it just as she liked the taste of him. Their tongues tangled fervently and her world was no bigger than the two of them. She felt his hand work its way into her half wet hair and up her back as he pressed a strong, soft hand against her neck to increase the pressure of the kiss as their tongues danced and she saw sparks behind her closed eyes. Their hands worked restlessly over each other's bodies exploring every place they already knew but needed to find again. The places they only shared with each other. His fingers and lips on her hands made Cersei feel as if she was flying she was so light.

They kissed and kissed and she felt how hard he was between them. Gods. That turned her on too. Everything about Jaime did. Cersei shifted to brush her breasts up his chest and press tightly against him. Her mouth ghosted over the wet skin of his arm, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. She couldn't help but grin when he tipped his head back, baring his throat so that her mouth could close over the rise in his throat and suck at him and then delve her tongue to the hollow below and brush her teeth so lightly over his skin making him groan. And when he did, she sunk down onto him, taking him inside her at last. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Jaime! It was all she could think as she slowly lifted herself up and sunk down on him again beginning a slow pace.

And every time he filled her, her muscles clenched around him partially inadvertently and partially of her will because she knew how much he liked it. His hands found her hips and guided her into a smooth rhythm that they found together. Her body enveloped him, took him for her own, deep inside her. And she could take him so deep this way, straddled over his waist. The look on his face was bliss as he moved between tipping his head back with soft pants and leaning forward to meet her lips with his. Sometimes, a soft moan would slide between her lips and dance across her tongue. She loved making him moan. She loved making him come undone in her arms. He was so strong, and she was the only one who could undo him. Only Cersei. He was only hers and she was only his.

"Never anyone else. Never again." She vowed.

"Never." He affirmed.

"Mine." She managed, breathing hard. "My brother, my lover, my Jaime."

"Yours. Always." He promised in return and then silenced her with lips and tongue and a shared gasp of breath that turned into a shared moan. She was so aroused from her earlier climax that it was not difficult for the muscles in her lower stomach to begin to tense and tighten with want and need and sensation as their pace increased. She could feel his stomach against her own when she leaned forward and changed the angle of their bodies. His muscles were tight in all the right ways as his body started to near his own release.

She clenched her hands on his shoulders tighter. She wanted him to fill her with himself. She heard herself begging him the way he had begged her earlier. Jaime, Jaime, Jaime. And then his hands clenched tight around her, pulling her to his chest and burying his face in her sweat-dampened hair. He moaned and it was a beautiful sound. His muscles clenched and she felt them and then he filled her with himself and she fell against his chest, shuddering and clinging to him, finishing a second time with him — for him. Her nose and lips brushed his sweaty skin and they just held each other trying to remember how to breathe again.

"… This water is cold." Cersei said finally, anticlimactically.

Jaime laughed.

"What!? It is!" she protested, struggling not to laugh herself.

"Mm. I can think of ways to warm you up again after we get out."

"Is that a fact?"

"Mm hm." He said, getting to his knees and pulling her up with him. He reached for a linen to wrap around her shoulders and then lifted her into his arms causing her to protest in surprise, but Jaime only ginned and kept holding her cradled against his chest. Finally, he sat her on the bed and then began to pat her dry sometimes leaning to kiss her swollen lips as he did.

Eventually, he returned to get a linen for himself and then crawled over her into the bed and wrapped her against his chest, safe in his arms once more. Before pulling the covers over them. Cersei lifted her fingers up to brush Jaime's cheek and cradle his jaw. "I love you. You make me so happy."

"I'm not whole without you," he responded. A surge of love and protectiveness filled him as he pulled her closer. They were quiet for a long time after with Jaime just holding her.

She had her face beneath his chin where she liked to rest it when she finally said softly, "Jaime?"

"Hm?" He murmured, sliding a hand up her back. She was so warm and perfect in his arms.

"Do you…" She paused for a moment, questioning even mentioning it but finally said, "Do you believe in… magic?"

He would have thought the question passing odd — especially from Cersei — except for all the rumors about Eddard Stark. Even hidden in the Kingswood and not revealing his identity, the few smallfolk he had come upon were talking about it. He'd heard a good many different variation of events, each more wild then the last. He didn't answer her question at first, distracted by remembering his curiosity. "What exactly happened?"

Cersei pressed closer against him. "Sansa Stark's direwolf that… is … was… dead came out of literally nowhere, leapt on top of Eddard, knocked him out of the way and took the killing blow instead. She… that… creature looked like she was in agony and then just dissolved into thin air. And it was never… it wasn't like a real wolf but like a… shade.. Of one. When it happened, Sansa fainted. I thought she fainted because of what she was seeing but it was after she fainted that that… thing… came, and then the next I saw her she was ashen and cold as if dead. It's been almost a moon's turn and she hasn't changed. Maester Pycelle has been keeping her alive with water and honey the way…"

Jaime knew what she meant. He always knew anything Cersei meant. He finished her thoughts and sentences as seamlessly as if they were his own often as not. He had tried not to think about it too heavily. What would be the point? It was done wasn't it? It wasn't as if he could take it back now. "Yes." He said. "You're sure it was Sansa's wolf?"

"Yes." She clenched her eyes shut. "I saw it every night in my dreams for weeks." Truthfully, she had been disturbed by the dreams and had been relieved when they finally stopped. This was not a welcome reminder.

Jaime sighed, "I don't know. I'm not sure there is an answer to things like this."

She shifted in his arms so she could see him better, "But do you think it means something? Like something will happen…"

Jaime's green eyes were confused as he held her close, "What? Like a prophecy or something?"

Gold will be their crowns, gold their shrouds.

"Maybe."

Something in her voice was quiet and scared. Jaime shifted, concerned. He could sense an uneasiness in her, a kind of fear that was unusual. He remembered it the first time Robert had hit her. A few other times… not often. Gently, he brought his hand up to hold her face and met her eyes. His were sure and certain; hers were worried. "I think… prophecies and magic and all the rest are what you make of them — sketchy guesswork at best. Outcomes are constantly evolving based on our choices every day, so I don't see how someone could see a future and know it's going to come to pass. Prophecies are about as real as grumpkins and snarks."

"You're… Do you promise?" Cersei stared up at him with a beseeching look in her eyes that made no sense to Jaime. None of it made any sense to Jaime. Cersei was usually so rational. Then again, Cersei liked when things made sense. She liked when she could see all the pieces and decide how to move them and react to them. Whatever had happened with Eddard Stark was not only inexplicable but also out of her control.

"I promise. I think not being able to explain it bothers you far less than not being able to control it, sweet sister."

Cersei's lips tugged slightly at the corners. "Maybe." She admitted.

"Mm hm. Thought so. The bigger question is what you intend to do with Eddard and his children. That is something you can control."

Cersei reached up and wrapped her arms around Jaime's neck and pressed her lips against his softly, momentarily distracted.

"Mm. I hope that is not what you intend to do with Stark."

Cersei looked at him for a split second of horror before she righted her face and returned, "Would you be jealous?"

Jaime slowly turned her over until Cersei was on her back and he was on top of her and pressed her hands into the bed beside her face as he looked down at her.

"So jealous." He breathed before pressing his mouth to hers.

The mornings when she woke in Jaime's arms were both rare and incredibly extraordinary.

He woke her with a soft touch to her shoulder and her mouth sought his before she even opened her eyes. She felt him respond and her lips curved happily beneath his. "What time is it?" She murmured.

"Mm.. an hour before sunrise or so. I have to go."

"No." Cersei pouted, then tugged his face down and kissed his lips insistently.

Jaime gave in to her kisses his mouth melding against hers for several long moments as his fingers slipped through hers. "You are insatiable."

"Mm.. You're the one always saying the Targaryens wed brother to sister and you want to stand up beside me and tell everyone I'm yours."

"Yes. I want to do that too. But not today. I have fighting to — Ow!" Jaime protested, laughing as Cersei smacked at him playfully.

"What if I said I would marry you but only today?"

Jaime stared at her, his green eyes going wide, his mind trying to grasp what she was saying. "Wait.. What.. Are you serious?"

"No, you beautiful, golden fool!" Cersei said, pressing against his chest and giggling.

"You're horrible!" Jaime protested, though he was chuckling slightly as well. Much as he was deadly serious that he would marry Cersei in a heart beat, it was unequivocally not the right time. Even he could see that.

"Yes. Without regret." She agreed, leaning up and kissing him again, trapping him by rolling on top of him and making him gasp in surprise when she brushed across his cock as she did it, then watched him expectantly.

"Once more. And then I really do have to go."

Cersei grinned drawing Jaime's lips to hers. "Godsdamn Robb Stark for taking you away from me."

Jaime's kisses trailed along Cersei's jaw until his mouth reached her ear. "No one will ever take me away from you."

She turned her face to the side and felt his lips on hers before she had even quite done it.