Author's note: Thanks all for your reviews, as always. Such a great bunch of reviews, I adore each one! I hope you enjoy Cersei's POV, there is another chapter from her to come in future as she is one of my favourite ever characters. I'm taking a little break over Christmas of a week but hope to return early next year with the remainder of this story. Have a wonderful holidays everyone! Stay safe!
It was late, but Cersei was still awake. Her head was buzzing with the final preparations for the wedding, and despite her long bath and the waft of lavender from the scented candles by her bedside, it was impossible to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she'd start going through lists again.
She'd hand-picked every server for the feast, personally scrutinised each course. All seventy-seven of them. Maybe the roasted swan first, then the peacocks? Snails or pastries for the first entree? A thousand guests to entertain and impress, and not one must be left in any doubt as to the wealth and power of Lannisters. Nor the folly of opposing them. Singers or pyromancers, to start? Jugglers or musicians to finish?
She surrendered to her insomnia, and got up from the bed. On bare feet she walked to the window seat and sat, gazing out into the darkness. She could hear the faint sounds of revelry from the guests camped below, and wondered how many flagons of the King's best ale they had already consumed. No matter. This wedding will be worth every penny it costs. There will never be another like it.
Her mind drifted to the things she had been through in her life, to get to this point. The childhood of endless tutors and instructors at Casterly Rock, when she'd rather have been outside riding and playing with her brother. The separation from him when she'd been taken to KingsLanding, her father's stifling expectations of her. The years with her brutish and abusive husband Robert, enduring the humiliation of their loveless farce of a marriage. The bruises she'd had to hide from Jaime. The schemes she'd devised to enable her to be with Jaime.
It was all worth it, for this. My son, the King, about to be married to a wealthy house, creating an alliance that will topple our enemies once and for all. Me, by his side. In the end, all the suffering was worth it.
The door to her room whispered open and she turned her head, startled.
The man standing inside the doorway was both instantly recognisable and a stranger. Cersei's stomach leapt into her throat. All her thoughts of seating plans and menus were blown away like dust, at the sight of his different yet achingly familiar face.
'Jaime,' she said, rising to stand. She drew her thin nightgown around her, goosebumps prickling her skin. 'Is it really you?'
'Dear sister,' he said. They stared at each other. 'Did you miss me?'
She trembled at his voice; wanted to run to him but pride stilled her feet. He has been gone so long, leaving me here to rule the Kingdoms alone. I should not be the one to go to him. Let him come to me.
Jaime walked across the room with the same easy stride she'd known forever, the same tilt of his head as he stopped and regarded her. He had a scruffy beard, and his hair was long and darker than Cersei remembered. But the confidence she loved, the arrogance, it was all still there. My warrior, my protector, my other half. He is home with me where he belongs.
Cersei expected him to sweep her into his arms, and her lips formed words of mild protest. I am busy with wedding preparations, we have 300 guests from Dorne here, Father plans to wed me off again like some broodmare, our cursed little brother has defied me in everything. This last year had been so challenging for her. Jaime must realise I need his support, he cannot just expect me to succumb to his desires without murmur.
But Jaime did not touch her. His green eyes took in her face and her tousled hair, the thin material of the gown and her bare legs, but he made no move.
'Did you miss me?' he asked again.
'I've been busy,' Cersei said. She felt the night breeze from the window flatten her nightgown against her body in a way she knew would reveal her curves. Her loose hair wisped against her face, the fragrance of lilac soap sweet on the strands.
'As have I,' Jaime replied. 'It's a war out there.'
Why does he not put his arms around me?
'It's a war in here as well,' she snapped, irked by his coolness. 'Have you any idea how trying it's been organising this wedding? A thousand guests to please. Father is betrothing me to every likely candidate in Westeros and the Imp has been undermining every move I make. Myrcella has been -'
'Shhh,' Jaime said. 'I know. I'm sorry you've had to deal with so much, without me.' He raised his hand, brushed the hair from her face.
His touch made her hold her breath. I always loved his hands, the feel of them. She realised how much she had missed it, and tears unaccountably burned in her eyes. There was no-one else she could cry in front of, only Jaime. No-one was ever allowed to see her weakness but him. All the tears unshed since he'd been gone now threatened to spill over.
'I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the North would send me your bones.' She raised her face, desperate to feel the press of his lips on hers. 'I am not whole without you.'
Jaime's eyes softened at her tears, and his hands ran down both sides of her body, lightly, as if unsure. Cersei had had enough. She pulled at his top, impatient, lifting it over his head. It was a poor, nondescript tunic, stained and worn through, and she discarded it with distaste. She wanted the strange, commoner garments gone from him, wanted to feel only his familiar warm skin.
For a moment Jaime relaxed, but when she tugged at his breeches he froze. She continued to unlace him, could feel he was hard beneath her hands. He restrained her. 'Come and sit down, Cers,' he said, taking her wrists gently.
He led her over to the bed and they sat side by side. In the candle light his bare chest was rippled with hard muscle and new scars, leaner than last time she'd seen him. She had to force herself not to reach over and stroke it.
What does he want? she thought irritably. If not to embrace me, then what? If he wishes to whine of the perils of his journey then I have a hundred more important issues to deal with.
But his next words threw her. 'Remember that time travelling home from Winterfell,' Jaime began. 'At the Crossroads, when Joffrey was attacked?'
Cersei was bewildered. 'What?'
'By the wolf. Do you remember?'
'Of course I remember! But what does this have to do with -'
'The boy who was killed, do you know what... happened to his body?'
Cersei stared at her brother as if he'd gone completely mad. The trip must have exhausted him, he is not himself at all. 'I wouldn't know,' she said tightly.
Jaime looked thoughtful, as if this ridiculous trivia were something he'd dwelt on. 'I thought maybe he was buried somewhere, in the area. But I couldn't recall. I was hoping you might.'
'Probably dumped in the river with the body of that wolf. Or in a pit one of the guards dug in the woods. Or fed to the hounds. Why are you asking this?'
'I passed through the area on my travels and it reminded me. That boy... he didn't deserve what happened to him -'
'For the love of the gods, Jaime, you're being absurd! He attacked Joffrey and was punished for his crime, he was commoner scum! I don't remember the little traitor's name let alone the whereabouts of his corpse!' Cersei huffed through her teeth.
Jaime looked at her, an enigmatic expression on his face. 'His name was Mycah,' he said.
Cersei felt a rush of frustration at his odd behaviour, but kept calm. He is not deliberately meaning to vex me. He is confused, overwhelmed. Returning to me after such an absence has addled his mind. Instead of letting her annoyance show, she slowly licked her lips and watched Jaime's eyes drop to her mouth. She took a deep breath that caused her breasts to swell.
Jaime didn't move, entranced. No more talk of unimportant matters, no more distance between us. Cersei shrugged the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders and it slipped to her waist. Let him be with me, he will forget what ails him and become as he was. Part of me. She wanted to pull him to her, for their bodies to mesh together. She wanted their skin to peel back and the blood to run freely between each other's veins; for their ribs to break apart and their hearts to merge as one. She wanted them to be inside each other, completely.
Jaime's eyes were dilated and dark, but still he didn't reach for her. It was silent in the room, save for their breathing. The longer time stretched on, the more disconcerted Cersei became.
What's got into him? It's been a long time, but surely that should only increase the desire? Could he have been unfaithful to me? she wondered. Another, harsher voice in her head reminded her that she had been, after all. Not that any of those other men had meant a thing to her, and she felt no regret for them. But I've always known my twin and I are the same person in different bodies. I am him and he is me. If I am capable of infidelity, than so is he. She pushed this troubling thought aside.
'I love you,' Cersei said smiling, despite a sudden pang of fear in her heart. Her voice on the verge of breaking. 'You swore to always love me.'
Jaime smiled back. It was an ambiguous smile. She couldn't tell if he was pleased at her words or humouring her. He wouldn't lie to me, not Jaime. But the other voice said Why not? You have lied to him a thousand times.
'I do love you, sweet sister,' Jaime sighed, tearing his eyes from her. He stood up. 'I will always love you. But I'm tired, and it's late. Let's talk again tomorrow.'