Big thanks to my lovely reviewers: firelordzuko, Veridissima, BookWorm4479, rikary, and juju0268. I hope that whoever reads this new chapter will like it and perhaps take some time to review. Also, feel free to check my modern AU Jaime/Cersei story, Dominance and Love.
JAIME
The nightmares were gone, but so was Cersei, or so it seemed. Jaime felt as if there was an invisible wall between them. Cersei had built a fortress around her; she would talk to Jaime, but she would never let him in. And this time it was not an innocent game of come-into-my-castle. This was reality. Their relationship had changed - if not fallen to tiny pieces that could never be put back together - and Jaime knew the reason why.
It was his hand - or, to be exact, the lack of it. He had always been Cersei's protector, the Warrior to her Maiden. Now he was more like the Crone, or perhaps the Stranger. He could protect no one. Cersei had been sent in exile, and although they were riding to King's Landing as they were supposed to, Jaime had no idea what to do with the beautiful woman behind him with her hands loosely on his waist merely so that she would not fall off the horse.
It seemed that that day the Gods chose to be kind and merciful. As they were riding, they passed a river, where a young woman was bathing. She had left her poor clothes on shore. Jaime instantly remembered that time in the inn off Eel Alley; Cersei had dressed in a servant's garb in order to get past Father's guards without being noticed and go to him. The memory aroused him, but he fought it. Damn, he really needed Cersei.
He stopped the horse. "What are you doing?" Cersei and Steelshanks Walton asked him at the same time.
"Cersei, get off, I have a plan", he said to her.
She didn't move at first. He looked at her hard, and in the end she did what was asked of her and dismounted. Jaime followed suit and approached the shore. The woman bathing saw him but did not seem afraid in the least.
"Hello, sir", she said in an attempt to be seductive. She failed miserably. "A knight are ya now? Then I should be callin' ya ser. What can I do for ya, ser?"
"I want your clothes", he said.
She laughed at him, but Jaime did not care. "And why would ya want me clothes?"
"That's none of your business", he said dangerously and saw her flinch and dive a little more in the water as if that would save her. "I will leave you some money. If you say anything to anyone, you will die. Do you understand?"
She nodded but didn't utter a word. She was trembling, and Jaime was sure that it had nothing to do with the water. Would you be proud of me, Father? he wondered. No, the lack of my sword hand would not allow you to swell with pride, I suppose.
He paid his debts like a true Lannister and left a few coins for the woman. He then took her clothes and walked to Cersei, who was watching him disbelieving, with one eyebrow raised, but also a little impressed. That was how it looked to Jaime at least.
"What did you just do?" Cersei asked him. "If you were paying her court, then you failed miserably, brother."
Jaime grinned. The good old Cersei was back. "Do you remember when you put on a disguise?" he asked softly so that no one else but her would hear. "You would dress as a servant or a tavern wench and come to me. No one ever realised that it was you."
Realisation dawned on his twin sister and she grinned devilishly at him. He could see that the memory had some sort of effect on her as well. "That was clever of you", she admitted.
"Yes, well, it happens."
Walton approached him on foot. "Ser, what is going on?" he asked.
"I found a way to get my sister to King's Landing", he replied. "She will be disguised as a wench. No one will know it was her. Is there an inn or something nearby? I could use some ale."
Walton nodded. He seemed a bit uncertain, but he never spoke of it. He was a good man. Jaime didn't feel like arguing about his plan. It was the only thing he could think of, and now that he had had that idea, he wanted to return to the capital as quickly as possible. He was tired of riding with those men and Qyburn and Brienne. He wanted to be back in his chamber, to sleep in his comfortable bed, perhaps share it with Cersei - she would be pretending to be a wench, so what would be the problem with that? He could not hold himself anymore. Nothing had happened between them after that time they met. He needed more. Always.
He gave the clothes to his sister and told her to dress. She moved away, searching for some privacy among the trees. Jaime was watching all the men; if anyone made a move to get close to his sister and admire the view, he would kill him, cripple or not.
"Your sister is really beautiful, Ser Jaime", Brienne said. He hadn't even seen her approach, so engrossed he was in Cersei.
"Yes, she is", he replied. What else could you say, wench? Look at her and look at yourself. Those were cruel thoughts he knew, but if it hadn't been for Brienne, he wouldn't have lost his hand. Of course, I might have died long ago without her, if someone else had been in her place.
"An ingenius plan, the disguise", she said. "How did you come up with it?"
He would love to tell her the truth just in order to see her reaction. Instead, he shrugged and said, "I don't know really. it just came to me. Perhaps the Crone chose to shine some wisdom upon me for once."
If Jaime hadn't come up with that plan, he would not have recognised Cersei. Not at first, at least. She looked like a tavern wench, in a heavy roughspun cloak, badly dyed in mottled brown and fraying at the hem. Her lovely face was hiding behind the shadows of a hood. She looked nothing like a queen now.
They found the inn soon enough. Everyone got ale, even Cersei. She looked pleased now, almost happy. Jaime knew that she had begun to find faith in him once again. He had found a way to get her back to King's landing, and that was some sort of protection. In a way he was her Warrior once again.
As the men that rode with Jaime talked about anything and nothing, Cersei oft placed her delicate hand on his thigh. No one saw that under the table, and Jaime did his best so as not to give them a sign that something was happening. He had been away from Cersei for so long that even a few moments of her hand on his thigh could make him hard. Luckily Cersei did not use her hand to do anything more, something wicked that would drive him crazy.
Surprisingly there were many people in the inn, talking passionately. Jaime knew that this could only mean one thing: something great had happened.
He soon found out.
"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger", a costermonger declared. "He drank his blood from a big gold chalice."
"It was poison did the deed", the innkeep insisted. "The boy's face turned black as plum."
"May the father judge him justly", a septon murmured. If the Father did judge him justly, Joffrey would suffer after his death.
"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him", swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."
Jaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. No one in the inn recognised him, so they spoke of Joffrey's death freely, not knowing that they were not telling the bearded, one-handed man of the death of the boy king; they were telling him of the death of his son.
And yet, Jaime felt no pain. He knew that fathers lost their minds from grief when they lost a son, but he did not feel that way. He was shocked. So many were claiming the Iron Throne that Jaime thought that Joffrey would die after the sacking of the city, perhaps not even then. Perhaps Cersei would send him away with knights in order to protect him. He had never expected that Joffrey would be murdered during his wedding feast.
The shock was double, for people insisted that Tyrion had done it, alone or with the help of Sansa Stark. But why would Tyrion do something like that? He knew that Jaime was the boy's father. He knew that Jaime would love to have even more children with Cersei. Why would he murder the boy? How could he? Kinslaying was a far greater sin than kingslaying.
Jaime wanted to blame the girl. Joffrey had made her suffer although she loved him, and he had rejected her as if she meant nothing. Maybe she was jealous. Maybe she wanted revenge. She was a Stark after all, and they were all wolves. However, from what Jaime remembered of her during his stay in Winterfell - it felt like centuried ago, so many things had happened and changed since then - she was more a Tully than a Stark, an innocent young girl with songs in her head.
He looked for Cersei but noticed that she was not around. He left the ale, he left the inn with the dark news and went outside. He found Cersei shaking, her arms wrapped around her. He felt a knife plunge into his heart as he saw her like this. He didn't feel as a father who had just lost his firstborn son was supposed to feel, but Cersei loved the boy very much. It had always seemed to Jaime that she was treating him a little different from the other two, Myrcella and Tommen, probably because he was the first treasure that Jaime had given to her. A treasure that she never permitted him to love.
"Cersei", he whispered her name gently as if it were a prayer. And, actually, it was. Instead of praying to the Seven, Jaime had oft whispered her name at night, perhaps foolishly hoping that she might feel his presence from afar.
She turned around and set her teary eyes on him. He approached her slowly, giving her the opportunity to tell him to leave her if what she wanted was to be alone. Even now, in her weak hour, in her moment of mourning, Cersei was a proud lioness and Jaime had to go to her. She never said a word. She didn't move at all. She looked like a statue. The only thing on her that indicated that she was a living person were her tears, the hot tears that rolled on her cold cheeks. She was like a weeping statue.
He wrapped his strong arms around her and stroked her head - the hood was not giving him the chance to feel her curls - as she surrendered in his embrace and started crying. Cersei had never wanted anyone to see her like this, and she only cried when she was alone with her twin. He was sad when she cried, but it was also proof that Cersei was still human, Cersei could still feel. It broke Jaime's heart to see her like this, and unfortunately there was nothing that he could do. He could only hold her and wait until she was done crying her heart out.
"He...he killed him, Jaime", she said between sobs, and Jaime knew knew just whom she meant. Their little brother. The Imp. The demon monkey. "My boy - he killed...my boy. I want his head."
A/N: The part where people tell Jaime how Joffrey died was copied from "A Storm of Swords".
I decided to end this story here, because otherwise it would turn into a rewriting of "A Storm of Swords" and "A Feast For Crows" - and that would be a blasphemy. I hope you enjoyed the journey. I can't promise to write more Jaime/Cersei soon, but this is definitely not the end.