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Gotta love the twisted twins!
« The seed is strong.»
(For anonymous using this prompt)
T H E G I F T
“We have to be more careful,” Cersei hissed as he swaggered into the room. He had the gall to still be wearing his Kingsguard armor when she’d told him specifically to change out of it. King’s Landing was full of spies, and she was still unsure of who to trust. Back at Casterly Rock, she had known who to trust and who to lie to and who to be honest with. She’d been the Queen for a year and was doing her best to learn those same things. It was proving to be much more difficult though.
“Be more careful?” her twin scoffed. “The king is off fucking who knows what, and you’re telling me to be careful? I highly doubt he’s going to stop mid-fuck to see where he’s pretty, little wife has gone.”
Cersei had to resist the urge to chuck a goblet at him. Sometimes, Jaime could be the most infuriating person in the world. She loved him, truly, and he was her other half, but that didn’t make him any less frustrating. At Casterly Rock, they were allowed to be as close as could be. Of course no one had any idea of what they were actually up to; as far as everyone was concerned, they were just extremely close twins. At King’s Landing though, they could not be so close in public and it stung more than she thought it would.
“There are others, Jaime – others that would conspire to root us out of King’s Landing!”
“Who are we up against: gardeners?”
She felt like she had to resist so much whenever she was around Jaime. She had to resist throwing something at him; she had to resist throwing herself at him; she had to resisting throwing her arms up in aggravation; she had to resist throwing her hands up in defeat; she had to resist throwing up because the everything was all too much and it was much too stressful and she wanted to give up and give in and–
But no, she would never do that. She wouldn’t do any of that. Cersei Lannister was a lion of Casterly Rock and lions do not give up or give in. They press forward; they hunt their prey until their enemies are weary with defeat; and then they devour their victims. Not even another lion would manage to subdue her. The females were the hunters in the pack while the males stayed behind and did nothing but stand guard. That was what Jaime did. He stood guard and protected (murdered) their king while she hid in the shadows of her king husband, hunting, watching, waiting to strike. For all his talent and grace with the sword, Jaime would never understand that type of balance and delicacy.
“I didn’t ask you to meet me here so we could argue,” Cersei finally said, stepping towards him. She watched as his face softened, the handsome face she saw almost everywhere she went. It was a shame he was in the Kingsguard. His armor only made him even more handsome and destined him to be even lonelier, but he would always have her, and she would always have him. They didn’t need anyone else in the world as long as they had each other.
“Then what did you ask me here for?”
Cersei reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. His stubble from the day was rough against her face. She preferred him clean shaven, but he didn’t always have the time to shave and it was night. The stubble was rough on her soft skin, and when she left, there would undoubtedly be red marks on her inner thighs, but for now, she didn’t care. Sometimes she needed to be rubbed raw. “I have some news,” she whispered.
She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to tell him. She’d fought with herself for the better part of two days before she’d decided to tell him first. Of course she had been excited at first, but then she had been terrified. What if someone found out? What if someone knew? She’d almost thought about drinking herself into oblivion, but one glass of wine had been enough to make her stomach turn on its end. To be honest, Cersei had thought that she would have a lot more grace about this, but at a mere ten and seven, she had found herself more terrified than anything else. A lion does not feel fear, she could hear her father saying, but her father was a man. And what did men know of this?
“Cersei, contrary to what people might think, just because we are twins does not mean I can read your–”
“I’m with child,” tumbled out of her mouth before she could think any further on the matter.
Jaime shut his mouth quickly, giving her an almost quizzical look, as if he didn’t know what being “with child” meant. For a moment, she thought about explaining herself further, but then he turned away from her. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, perhaps for comfort or to keep him tied to reality. He had once told her that there was nothing more real than a sword or the feeling of when you wielded a sword against another man. She’d not played with swords since they had been little children and she’d been able to pass herself off as him during his sword lessons.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a very detached voice, still not looking at her.
Jaime looked to the side at the fireplace. “Is he…?” She was desperate for him to look at her, but part of her knew he wouldn’t, not right now. He didn’t like it when she saw him scared, and she knew he was scared. This could be the end of them both, even if it was the only thing she ever wanted. She had told him a month after her marriage to Robert that she would never bear Robert’s children; she only wanted to have Jaime’s, the Seven Kingdoms and all the rest be damned. “Who is the father?”
“You are, my love,” Cersei told him in a confident voice.
Finally, Jaime looked up at her, and she saw a strange mixture of emotions on his face, plain as day: love, excitement, but also fear, worry, and anger. Ever since the Mad King’s demise at his hands, Cersei had always thought she saw flecks of anger in everything Jaime did or said. He would never admit to it, of course, but she could’ve sworn that she saw it in the way he walked, talked, joked, ate, fucked, breathed…. Even now, she saw it, like he wanted to burn every person getting in the way of them being together forever.
“They’ll call for our heads on spikes.”
“No one will ever know.” Cersei walked to him again until they were mere inches away from each other. Despite the coolness of his armor, she could feel the heat from his body behind it and heat from his gaze on her. “Robert never remembers what really happened in the morning; he never realizes that he didn’t actually bed me. And besides, like you said earlier, the man is too busy whoring; he’d never suspect me of cheating on him, especially not with you.”
Which was really quite stupid, if you asked her, but no one ever did and she didn’t plan on having anyone get the idea to do so.
Jaime took hold of her hand and looked down at it. “Are you sure about this?”
“As sure as I have ever been.”
He smiled, that beautiful Lannister smile, with his golden Lannister hair, and brilliant green Lannister eyes – the same features that their child together would have, the same features that she loved. “Then I think it’s time we celebrate properly,” he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply on the lips. It was a celebration she wasn’t like to forget any time soon.
The most heart-wrenching part of this scene (other than Lena Headley’s beautiful acting) is not Tommen’s quiet obliviousness to the battle raging outside, nor is it the impending sense of doom looming all around Queen Cersei and her cub.
It is one single line, the meaning of which very few were likely to notice.
“The cub said, will I be strong and fierce like my father?”
Watch Lena Headley.
The words are heavy, her tearful eyes are lifted to a distance far, far beyond her powers of sight.
She has internalized Cersei’s true meaning in such a lovely and heartbreaking way.
She loves her children more than anything else in the world. She loves them so fiercely. But the only person or thing she loves even nearly that much is not her throne, not power, not beauty, not womanly wiles.
It is Tommen’s true father, her brother Jaime.
“Will I be strong and fierce like my father?”
Not Robert, little cub.
Jaime Lannister, who has been a pillar of strength and fiercely beautiful for as long as Cersei can remember. The only man on her mind in this darkest hour.
Jaime Lannister, whose roar Cersei can hear even over the roar of clashing swords and bloodshed and fear.
Jaime Lannister, the man who would be king, even if it is only in Cersei’s head.
Perhaps she’s thinking that she could only be his queen in death, but he will always be her king in her heart.
This picture remembers me Cersei and Jaime Lannister… Am I sick?