By the time they rode back up the cliff path, the sun was setting and everything was stained orange and pink. The long shadow of the stallion stretched out in front of them, its legs on stilts. Cersei sat in front on the way home, Jaime's arms looped loosely around her waist. Her skin still tingled from the cold water, and her hair dried in tangles.

The castle on the rocky bluff loomed over them, its grey ramparts and battlements edged with fire as the sun sank below the horizon. Cersei let the horse walk up the hill, to cool down before they arrived back at the stables. It would do them no good if Father noticed his horse blowing or covered in sweat.

It was nice feeling Jaime behind her, his breath on her neck, his body heat warm on her back. It reminded her of when they still slept together. As infants they'd curled as close as seed pods their nanny had told them, sometimes chewing on each other's balled fists. They would cry and cry inconsolably if separated, and never fall asleep unless touching one another. Even when they were five years old, Cersei remembered how if she turned over, Jaime's little foot would stretch out in his sleep and press against her back, or side. His toes kneading her flesh like a cat's paws as it settled in your lap . Even in his dreams he was seeking her out, making certain she was still there, next to him, where she belonged.

Of course they weren't allowed to sleep together any more. Not since they were seven, and their mother had walked in one morning to find them touching each other in a way she deemed 'inappropriate.' Which was ridiculous, Cersei thought. We have touched each other since the womb, Jaime's body is as much mine as his own, and my body his. We are one person split into two. Why shouldn't I touch him, as he touches himself? Why shouldn't his skin be next to mine, our breath mix together as we sleep? Who is anyone to try to keep apart those who long to be together?

Cersei sighed at the memory of that day. Her mother, as much as she'd loved them, didn't understand. She'd been angry. Cersei didn't even understand what exactly it was they'd done so wrong. Being curious about her brother's body was the same in her mind as being curious about her own. It was confusing to see Mother barely able to look at either of them as she made them swear never to do 'anything like that', ever again.

Jaime had been frightened to sleep alone in his own room, and over breakfasts for a week his face was streaked with tears. Cersei's heart hurt for him, and for herself. Lying in the big, empty bed at night, it'd felt like her skin had been flayed off, and she was exposed and abandoned in a way she'd never before thought possible. She'd hated Mother then, lay awake all through those long nights wishing her dead.

And then, not long after, she had been. And instead of a loving, if misunderstanding, mother, they had in her place a squalling, annoying, deformed younger brother. Life was cruel.

The horse and two riders reached the castle courtyard and Cersei dismounted, leaving Jaime to take the stallion back to the stalls while she waited for him in the shadows of the garden. As she fidgeted impatiently, she could hear distant voices and the tramp of numerous boots drifting on the breeze coming up from the sea path. It sounded as if Father and his guards were returning from their surveying of the beach. They'd be going into the main entrance soon, and she needed to be back in her locked room before Father came up the stairs.

Cersei stared hard at the stables doors, willing Jaime to hurry. What was he doing? Come on, come on. She twisted her hair and bit her nails. Finally Jaime's lean figure came running out of the doors and across the courtyard towards her. His teeth flashed white in the dim light.

'All good. I brushed all the sweat marks off so Father will be none the wiser,' he said as he got to her.

'You took your time!' she snapped. ' I can hear him coming home now, so quick!' Cersei shoved her brother and they ran around the side of the castle wall until they were directly under Jaime's room. He boosted her up to the first foothold and was about to follow when a noise distracted him.

Cersei looked down. Waddling around the side of the garden came Tyrion, his blonde head bent to look at something he was carrying carefully in his chubby arms. Cersei looked up again and grabbed the next handhold in the stone wall, prayed that Jaime would follow her before Tyrion noticed them. But it was too late. Their younger brother lifted his head and his face broke into a delighted smile.

'Jimi! Sisi!' he cried, in that irritating babyish voice. He was four years old already, when was the idiot ever going to say their names properly? She ignored him and hoped Jaime would do the same. They probably only had minutes left before Father entered the castle.

'Hey Tyrry,' Jaime said, dropping back to ground. He crouched down to be at his little brother's level. Tyrion raced over on his pudgy legs and began to bounce up and down manically at Jaime's attention. 'Look Jimi, look!' he squeaked, holding out the thing he was cradling. Cersei heard Jaime take in a mock-excited breath and exclaim 'Wow, Tyrry! You got yourself a puppy? A real life puppy? That's amazing!' The boys smacked hands together and Tyrion chuckled with childish glee.

Amazing? Cersei thought, rolling her eyes to herself. Amazing like my waterhole was amazing? Please. The kid is too stupid to know Jaime is just humouring him. Why are we wasting precious minutes on this? After Jaime's perfect proportions and easy grace, having to look apon Tyrion's ill-formed features and lurching gait hurt her eyes.

'Do you wanna pat?' Tyrion said, and promptly stood on tiptoe and dumped the furry bundle from his arms into Jaime's hands. Jaime cuddled the puppy up to his chest and scratched it behind the ears. 'Oh, he's a good one. Look at his markings; brindle. Brindle dogs are the best. You want me to help you train him?'

'Yes! Jimi help train him!' Tyrion chirped, clapping his hands and jiggling on his toes like a demented wind-up toy.

'Come ON!' Cersei said crossly. 'He's making us late!'

Jaime glanced at her guiltily, then handed the puppy back to Tyrion. 'We'll train him together, alright Tyrry? He'll be the very best dog ever. But we have to go now. I'll see you at dinner. You look after him carefully, now.'

Tyrion nodded seriously. 'Tyrry look after Stripy.'

'Stripy? Is that his name? That's a great name.'

'Jaime!' Cersei seethed in frustration.

'Sorry,' Jaime said, stepping back up to the wall. They clambered up the stones, onto the first shingled window ledge. Cersei looked back down to see if the dwarf had gone, but he was still standing there in the evening light looking up at them, his face radiant with admiration. I'd be in awe of us too, if my legs and arms were that useless, she thought.

Jaime took the lead to climb the next section, because he knew the way better. She copied him, fitting her fingers and toes into each notch and groove. He reached his window and slid inside headfirst, turned around and grabbed her arms to pull her up.

They looked around the room, but all was as they'd left it. Took their boots off and kicked them under his windowseat, then Jaime took her hand and they crept to the door and listened. They heard nothing outside. He opened it a crack, stuck his head through, then opened it all the way. They padded out onto the landing in bare feet, silent as two lion cubs. Around the bannisters engraved with swirling patterns that curved down the staircase, along the hallway to Cersei's room. The bolts on her door were pulled back, and she hesitated.

'We should have locked this before we left,' she said, annoyed at their oversight.

Jaime looked at the door, then at her, and his face made her blood freeze.

'I did,' he whispered.

The door swung open and they both took a step back. Cersei felt Jaime's hand grip hers tighter. Father towered in the doorway, his expression carved from granite, observing them both with an icy detachment that made Cersei feel like a tiny bug about to have its legs plucked out one by one. She swallowed. Jaime's hand in hers was the only thing keeping her from turning and bolting for the staircase.

'Now that you're back,' Father swept one hand towards her bed and inclined his head with chilling politeness. 'You'd better come on in.'