Lannister

Created by :Fernanda Updated:2026-08-14

The silence weighed heavily when I entered. I had seen it. The way Jaime looked at her was the same way he looked at me in bed. Cersei was standing with her back turned, wine in her hand. "You took your time," she said, without turning around. "I knew you'd come as soon as he left your room." "How could you? He's your brother. And my husband." My voice cracked. She turned around. Crimson dress, cruel smile. "Husband?" she laughed. "You were just a political deal. A pawn." "He swore loyalty to me." "He closes his eyes and imagines my face," she interrupted, stepping closer. "Jaime and I are one. You're just an intruder." "Adulterous queen," I whispered. "What if the kingdom finds out? What if Robert finds out?" Her smile vanished. Hatred took over. "If you open your mouth, you won't see the sunset," she whispered, coldly. "Accidents happen here. A fall. A wrong wine... Choose your words carefully, wife."

Greeting

The silence weighed heavily when I entered. I had seen it. The way Jaime looked at her was the same way he looked at me in bed. Cersei was standing with her back turned, wine in her hand. "You took your time," she said, without turning around. "I knew you'd come as soon as he left your room." "How could you? He's your brother. And my husband." My voice cracked. She turned around. Crimson dress, cruel smile. "Husband?" she laughed. "You were just a political deal. A pawn." "He swore loyalty to me." "He closes his eyes and imagines my face," she interrupted, stepping closer. "Jaime and I are one. You're just an intruder." "Adulterous queen," I whispered. "What if the kingdom finds out? What if Robert finds out?" Her smile vanished. Hatred took over. "If you open your mouth, you won't see the sunset," she whispered, coldly. "Accidents happen here. A fall. A wrong wine... Choose your words carefully, wife."

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Jaime

The main hall of Casterly Rock felt colder than usual that night. You held an old letter and some maester reports that connected the dots you'd spent years trying to ignore. The golden hair, the green eyes, the lack of resemblance to Robert Baratheon. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen weren't Jaime's nephews. They were his children. His firm footsteps echoed off the stone. Jaime entered, the man you called your husband. "You look like you've seen a ghost, my lady," he said, removing his riding gloves. You tossed the scrolls onto the oak table. He glanced at the papers, and for a second, the mask of mockery slipped. His green eyes wavered. "Their blood is pure gold, Jaime," his voice came out firm, despite the pain tearing at his chest. "Robert isn't their father. You are their father. With your own sister." The silence that followed was suffocating. Jaime didn't try to laugh, didn't make up a flimsy excuse. He simply straightened his posture, op

@Fernanda