fic: Mother Father Sister Brother Lover [Game of Thrones: Jamie/Cersei]
title: Mother Father Sister Brother Lover
author: lost_in_azkaban
fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
pairing: Jamie/Cersei
wordcount/rating: 1088/ pg-13
summary: Cersei and Jamie grieve for their firstborn son...in their own way.
a/n: I wrote this a year ago when I was angry with D&D for their rapey portrayal of this scene. Just forgot to post it, oops.
The King of Westeros was dead.
No tears fell from Cersei's eyes, but inside she was screaming with grief. Her heart felt close to bursting in her chest and she would have let it if it meant having Joffrey back. She reached out to touch his hair, golden life her own, careful not to touch his skin. The cold chilled her to the bone. She was so intent on her mourning that she barely noticed Jaime dismissing the Septon, heavy doors barred, leaving them in darkness. The dark was a shroud, and for a moment, Cersei welcomed death. It would be easier, far easier, than this life she led.
"My son," she cried.
And then he was there, he didn't touch her but she felt his presence. He was her port in the storm, at last she found safe harbor. His one good arm wrapped around her waist from behind, cautious at first, then with familiar possession. She melted back into his embrace, leaning against his hard chest. His warmth instantly soothing her chilled bones, lessening the vice-like grip of grief on her heart.
"Cersei," Jaime whispered, his voice was raw. He'd been crying, Cersei thought. A pang of emotion--jealousy?--tore through her. Was she that wretched that she could not shed a tear for her fallen son?
"Oh Joffrey, my son," she said again.
Jaime only held her tighter, bearing the weight of her. "Cersei, please. You need rest."
"I cannot leave him, Jaime." her voice quavered.
"Look at me, Cersei," he insisted. For once, his stubborn counterpart obeyed, turning slowly in his grip to face him. Her head leaned back so as to look at him, exposing her exquisite jaw line and pale column of her neck. Jaime longed to taste the soft skin there. Patience, he thought.
"My son is dead." she said firmly, beginning to pull from his reach.
But Jaime was fast, pulling her body flush against him. He was already growing hard and the flash of fire in Cersei's icy stare meant she felt him as well. It had been too long between them and even now, he wanted her desperately. He moved his hips ever so lightly, relishing in the pressure building between them. He wanted to drive forth a reaction from her, but her face masked all emotion but the darkness of sorrow.
"He was my son, too. Our son. Let me share in the burden. You mustn't be alone in this."
It was these words that were Cersei's undoing. His kindness, saved solely for her, was what she had needed after all this time. Tears spilled over her lashes as she buried her face in his chest as a sob escaped her lips.
Jaime moved, bringing his golden hand to her waist to hold her, freeing his other hand. He tilted her chin back up, his thumb wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Don't hide, my love. You're beautiful, even now." he whispered, placing a kiss at her brow, another at her cheek, again at the corner of her mouth. There, he hesitated.
With every breath, Cersei's breasts pushed against his chest. The tide of desire threatened to drown him. He longed to pull her down under the waves with him.
Her fingers, at last, reached out for him. Fingertips danced along his chest, slipping just inside the collar of his shirt, touching the hollow of his throat. Jaime stifled a groan.
"Jaime, please...I..." Cersei's words were hot at his neck.
"I'm here now." he said reassuringly. His hand slid behind her neck, burying in her hair at the base of her skull.
"I need to forget." she said, fingers digging into his collarbones like claws, seeking ownership of his body. Her eyes were aflame, mirroring his own. There was his lioness. His Queen. His love. At last. "Make me forget, Jaime."
Her words were all the invitation he needed. His mouth came down on hers with a punishing kiss. She responded immediately, kissing him back with hunger. Her fingers slip up his neck, finding their way into his shorn hair.
The kiss was a battle of wills; a fight for control neither were willing to surrender. But in its violence, it was also a soothing balm for each of them. Jaime did not know what the future held, but this moment with Cersei was all that mattered.
He teased her lips apart with his tongue, delving inside to deepen the kiss. He heard her moan as his tongue swirled around hers. She tasted like the finest of Dorne's vintages. He was intoxicated with her. He needed more.
Without breaking their kiss, Jaime guided her. Cersei's backside pressed against the altar while Jaime rolled his hips against her, the friction of his breeches on his straining cock was almost too much to bear. He pulled at her dress, gathering her skirts in his hand, but quickly found resistance.
"No." Cersei said, her hands pushed his away.
Jaime persisted, trailing open mouthed kisses along her throat. He nipped at her fluttering pulse. "You want me." he growled. It wasn't a question. He kissed her lower still.
"Yes," she murmured lifting his face to kiss him again. "But not here. Not like this."
Jaime stole a glance at the altar, the stones over Joffrey's eyes stared unblinking. The sight cooled his lust long enough for Cersei to lace her fingers in his. She led him away from the altar and into the shadows. Stopping at an alcove dedicated to the Mother, she dropped his hand.
"Here." she said.
"I cannot wait any longer, Cersei. I need to feel you." he said, shrugging off his cloak. He laid it on the cold stone floor. There would be time for soft, silken bedsheets later, but he needed her now.
Cersei tugged at his shirt, lifting it over his head, and tossed it away. She placed fevered kisses over his chest. Her urgency matched his now.
Jaime fumbled at her sleeves, trying to gain access to hidden skin he so longed to taste. He swore under his breath. It seemed combat with a sword wasn't the only skill he'd lost when he lost his hand. "I'm not as good at this as I used to be." he said, extending his golden hand. Cersei was the only one he felt comfortable admitting weakness to.
Cersei reached out to touch it, gently at first and then almost reverentially. "You're perfect. I've missed you so much." she said before pulling him down to the floor.
author: lost_in_azkaban
fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
pairing: Jamie/Cersei
wordcount/rating: 1088/ pg-13
summary: Cersei and Jamie grieve for their firstborn son...in their own way.
a/n: I wrote this a year ago when I was angry with D&D for their rapey portrayal of this scene. Just forgot to post it, oops.
The King of Westeros was dead.
No tears fell from Cersei's eyes, but inside she was screaming with grief. Her heart felt close to bursting in her chest and she would have let it if it meant having Joffrey back. She reached out to touch his hair, golden life her own, careful not to touch his skin. The cold chilled her to the bone. She was so intent on her mourning that she barely noticed Jaime dismissing the Septon, heavy doors barred, leaving them in darkness. The dark was a shroud, and for a moment, Cersei welcomed death. It would be easier, far easier, than this life she led.
"My son," she cried.
And then he was there, he didn't touch her but she felt his presence. He was her port in the storm, at last she found safe harbor. His one good arm wrapped around her waist from behind, cautious at first, then with familiar possession. She melted back into his embrace, leaning against his hard chest. His warmth instantly soothing her chilled bones, lessening the vice-like grip of grief on her heart.
"Cersei," Jaime whispered, his voice was raw. He'd been crying, Cersei thought. A pang of emotion--jealousy?--tore through her. Was she that wretched that she could not shed a tear for her fallen son?
"Oh Joffrey, my son," she said again.
Jaime only held her tighter, bearing the weight of her. "Cersei, please. You need rest."
"I cannot leave him, Jaime." her voice quavered.
"Look at me, Cersei," he insisted. For once, his stubborn counterpart obeyed, turning slowly in his grip to face him. Her head leaned back so as to look at him, exposing her exquisite jaw line and pale column of her neck. Jaime longed to taste the soft skin there. Patience, he thought.
"My son is dead." she said firmly, beginning to pull from his reach.
But Jaime was fast, pulling her body flush against him. He was already growing hard and the flash of fire in Cersei's icy stare meant she felt him as well. It had been too long between them and even now, he wanted her desperately. He moved his hips ever so lightly, relishing in the pressure building between them. He wanted to drive forth a reaction from her, but her face masked all emotion but the darkness of sorrow.
"He was my son, too. Our son. Let me share in the burden. You mustn't be alone in this."
It was these words that were Cersei's undoing. His kindness, saved solely for her, was what she had needed after all this time. Tears spilled over her lashes as she buried her face in his chest as a sob escaped her lips.
Jaime moved, bringing his golden hand to her waist to hold her, freeing his other hand. He tilted her chin back up, his thumb wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Don't hide, my love. You're beautiful, even now." he whispered, placing a kiss at her brow, another at her cheek, again at the corner of her mouth. There, he hesitated.
With every breath, Cersei's breasts pushed against his chest. The tide of desire threatened to drown him. He longed to pull her down under the waves with him.
Her fingers, at last, reached out for him. Fingertips danced along his chest, slipping just inside the collar of his shirt, touching the hollow of his throat. Jaime stifled a groan.
"Jaime, please...I..." Cersei's words were hot at his neck.
"I'm here now." he said reassuringly. His hand slid behind her neck, burying in her hair at the base of her skull.
"I need to forget." she said, fingers digging into his collarbones like claws, seeking ownership of his body. Her eyes were aflame, mirroring his own. There was his lioness. His Queen. His love. At last. "Make me forget, Jaime."
Her words were all the invitation he needed. His mouth came down on hers with a punishing kiss. She responded immediately, kissing him back with hunger. Her fingers slip up his neck, finding their way into his shorn hair.
The kiss was a battle of wills; a fight for control neither were willing to surrender. But in its violence, it was also a soothing balm for each of them. Jaime did not know what the future held, but this moment with Cersei was all that mattered.
He teased her lips apart with his tongue, delving inside to deepen the kiss. He heard her moan as his tongue swirled around hers. She tasted like the finest of Dorne's vintages. He was intoxicated with her. He needed more.
Without breaking their kiss, Jaime guided her. Cersei's backside pressed against the altar while Jaime rolled his hips against her, the friction of his breeches on his straining cock was almost too much to bear. He pulled at her dress, gathering her skirts in his hand, but quickly found resistance.
"No." Cersei said, her hands pushed his away.
Jaime persisted, trailing open mouthed kisses along her throat. He nipped at her fluttering pulse. "You want me." he growled. It wasn't a question. He kissed her lower still.
"Yes," she murmured lifting his face to kiss him again. "But not here. Not like this."
Jaime stole a glance at the altar, the stones over Joffrey's eyes stared unblinking. The sight cooled his lust long enough for Cersei to lace her fingers in his. She led him away from the altar and into the shadows. Stopping at an alcove dedicated to the Mother, she dropped his hand.
"Here." she said.
"I cannot wait any longer, Cersei. I need to feel you." he said, shrugging off his cloak. He laid it on the cold stone floor. There would be time for soft, silken bedsheets later, but he needed her now.
Cersei tugged at his shirt, lifting it over his head, and tossed it away. She placed fevered kisses over his chest. Her urgency matched his now.
Jaime fumbled at her sleeves, trying to gain access to hidden skin he so longed to taste. He swore under his breath. It seemed combat with a sword wasn't the only skill he'd lost when he lost his hand. "I'm not as good at this as I used to be." he said, extending his golden hand. Cersei was the only one he felt comfortable admitting weakness to.
Cersei reached out to touch it, gently at first and then almost reverentially. "You're perfect. I've missed you so much." she said before pulling him down to the floor.