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Jaime had expected to defend Brienne from censure on the throne, or at least to want to; he’d expected everyone in King’s Landing to greet her with contempt, as they had before. He found himself shocked beyond reckoning when the Dragon Queen smiled, seemingly genuinely, and welcomed her.

Then she turned her cold purple eyes on Jaime and Cersei, and everything was normal again. There it was: contempt. Had Brienne forsworn them, then? He hoped so. It would be the wise thing to do, which was why it hadn’t occurred to him that she might have done it.

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing. Beside him, Cersei curtsied, not quite shallowly enough for it to be an insult.

“How are you finding Tarth, Ser Jaime?”

“It grows lovelier by the day, Your Grace.”

“Hm. The days grow shorter there?”

“The days grow shorter everywhere as winter approaches,” Cersei said. “Your Grace.”

Jaime watched as she smiled her knife’s-edge smile, felt despair mount in his chest. Damn her, she was going to undo all of Brienne’s hard work with her reckless cruelty.

“Yes,” the Dragon Queen said. “So I’ve been told. What an odd land I rule.”

Cersei opened her mouth, no doubt to sign her own death warrant, and Jaime found himself paralyzed to stop her as always. He closed his eyes rather than watch the Dragon Queen decide to kill them - and then he opened them again when Brienne said, “The Lannisters lay claim to some of the finest maesters in the land, Your Grace. I’m sure Lord Tyrion would lend them out to you, should you wish to review plans for winter. You are wise to recognize how strange it is. Many before you did not.”

Jaime looked down and saw Brienne’s hand biting into Cersei’s wrist, half buried in her skirts and barely visible to onlookers. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“Perhaps I will. Thank you, Lady Brienne, and congratulations again on your impending union.” The Dragon Queen nodded, and just like that, they were dismissed.

It was an odd feeling, Jaime marveled as they were shown to their rooms. He’d never really entered the Red Keep without having the privilege to move as he wished, not since he’d been a callow boy. Here, he and Cersei were just another pair of courtiers. They didn’t even control the Rock’s interests.

“How far we’ve fallen,” Cersei said. She sounded brittle and angry about it, but Jaime could only feel relief.

Brienne sighed. “I know I can’t stop you from being horrible, but could you at least recognize that if you are horrible around me, I will always stop you?”

Cersei sneered at her. “Why should I?”

“I gave up my oath to Lady Sansa for -”

“My brother. Yes, I know. You’ve done many foolish things for my brother. I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

Jaime’s own heart twisted at that, and he knew from the look on Brienne’s face that she understood how such a thing hurt him. “Don’t say that. I know you care. You might kill him if you keep pretending you don’t, though.”

Cersei looked at him, only for a moment, but it felt like a physical blow. “Perhaps.”

“If you’re horrible around me, I’ll stop you.” Brienne was repeating herself now, but her voice was as firm as Jaime had ever heard it. I swore I’d take you to King’s Landing, and that’s what I’m going to do. “So please don’t make me. I don’t think either of us would enjoy that experience.”

She left then, no doubt off to drink wine with her betrothed and count her new holdings. But Jaime barely noticed. He was focused entirely on Cersei, her bowed shoulders, the very slight trembling of her hands.

He couldn’t tell anyone at all, much less Cersei, but he knew then that Brienne was wrong. She’d flay both of them alive before she admitted it, but if Cersei did something awful, if Brienne stopped her -

Oh, yes, she’d enjoy it. Very much.

===

Jaime discovered that Brienne wasn’t with Gendry Baratheon when the man himself was shown into their suite.

“Oh, it’s you,” Cersei said.

“Ah, yes, milady, milord. Her Grace asked me to see about fixing you up a new hand,” he told Jaime.

Gods, he spoke like the common bastard he was. Jaime was so absorbed in the coarseness of him that for a moment he didn’t hear the actual words the boy spoke. “Oh. Well. Ah. How kind.”

“He doesn’t need a new hand.”

“That’s not for me to say, milady. I’m only here to measure.”

“Ask your fianceé.” Each syllable pronounced with cruelty. Jaime wanted to tell the boy to run. “Jaime’s very happy with his hand.”

He’d never truly be Lord Gendry, Jaime thought, for right then he didn’t tell Cersei off for her impertinence. He didn’t even deflect her. He only said, “Yes, milady, as you say. Nonetheless, Her Grace has asked me to take a look.”

“You speak like a servant boy,” Cersei snarled. “This is who the Dragon Queen seeks to elevate to Robert’s seat?”

“Has elevated,” Gendry said. “Milday. It’s done. And I believe the Lannisters bent the knee, same as everyone else, or you wouldn’t be here.”

He was right, of course. Jaime couldn’t hold back his laugh. “He’s got you there.”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, and stormed off.

Gendry didn’t talk after that. He took the hand off, measured Jaime’s stump, looked at the condition of the cauterized skin around the end of it. It was an ugly bit of him, Jaime knew, though he could scarcely bring himself to look at it most of the time. “Can it support this hand?” Gendry asked. “It feels heavy.”

“It is.” He couldn’t say anything else. He hated it, of course, both because it was a constant reminder of his failure, and because it was incredibly inconvenient to lug around. But to say so would be a repudiation of Cersei, of his house. He couldn’t.

“Gold’s the worst thing you could use for this kind of thing.” Gendry tossed the golden hand between his own living hands, weighing it, feeling it move. “How do you feel about a hook?”

“Conspicuous.”

“You could have a hand for special occasions. Hollow, less heavy.” Gendry examined the hand’s leather straps. “Going lighter would make this easier to fit, too.”

“Why are you here?”

Gendry blinked. “I’m here to fit you for a new hand, milord.”

“No, stop it. She’s gone, so you’re not likely to die in the next ten minutes. You should be honest with me. The Queen didn’t send you here just to give me a new hand.”

“Milord, I really don’t -”

“You wanted to know why she did it.”

Gendry’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Like a fish, Jaime thought, a very stupid fish.

“Lady Brienne has a sense of honor stronger than the Dragon Queen, stronger than you or me, stronger even than the Starks she’d sworn herself to. Does that answer your question?”

“Why you?”

Jaime stared. Gendry flushed bright red, but he didn’t back down this time; he set his jaw and said, “Why could her honor possibly demand she host the two of you? Why not let you face the Queen’s justice? What honor is there in helping you evade consequences for treason?”

He thought of Harrenhal, of his rotting stinking hand about his neck, of the steadfast way she’d refused to be sent away from King’s Landing, even when he knew Cersei wanted to kill her. He thought of her dragging him into a boat, of her putting her own body between him and the Bolton men. Damn her and damn Gendry bastard-Baratheon both.

“I saved her life,” he said. I love her. “We nearly died together dozens of times.”

“That doesn’t mean she owes you anything!”

“I agree.” He smiled, forcing himself to be amiable. “But that’s why men like you and I don’t come even close to having the honor that we should. The honor that she has. Best understand it now, boy, for she’s young and healthy and you aren’t big enough to beat it out of her. You’re in for a long life, if you wed her.”

When I wed her.” Gendry looked furious now. Good. “And it’ll be better for her, not to be tied to stinking rotten Lannisters.”

“Most likely.”

“I’ll ensure she can honor her oath to you when we’re married.” He threw Jaime’s hand to the floor. “But it won’t be in my household.”

And then he was gone.

“My, he truly is Robert’s son, isn’t he? All bluster, no balls.”

Jaime let his head fall forward. “Cersei…”

“He’s lucky you let him leave without a fat lip.”

“I don’t see why you care.”

“Oh, I don’t.” She moved to sit across from him, grabbing the golden hand and strapping it back onto him. “You sounded like a lovesick boy, you know.”

“I suppose you of all people would know.”

“You’re transparent. It was always the biggest risk for us.” She tightened the leather too far, past the worn notch marking his usual spot. He didn’t correct her. “And now you’re transparently panting after Brienne the Beauty. You’re shaming your family yet again, Jaime.”

“Why are we here?”

“Because your appetites -”

“No, Cersei, why are we here? Sharing a room with a maid of a minor house, cringing in the vassalage of the Dragon Lady, begging her to allow us to see our children one last time?” He stood. Pain shot up his stump, and he grabbed the leather and adjusted it, not bothering to hide his clumsiness. “You. Your choices, or lack thereof. Your hatred of Robert, your foolishness.”

“Your inability to do something about it!”

He hated how true it was. He hated looking at her and seeing someone too blindingly powerful for him to ever have stopped. He, the Kingslayer, a man without honor, was a man too weak to bring his sister to heel. “The two of us, then. It has nothing to do with Brienne. Would that the whole bloody court would pant after her; it would be a better way to spend their time than pretending fealty to a series of tyrants and fools.”

The slap rang out in the still air. Cersei didn’t seem upset; she shook out her hand and said, “Keep your treason to yourself, brother.”

“I can’t,” he said softly. “One’s in a dungeon, the other’s in Dorne. All I can do is try to stop you from making it worse.”

“Then stop me.” She grabbed him, kissed him. “Stop me.” She shrugged her dress off. The bruises Brienne had left on her shoulder were still there, light yellow now. Soon they’d be gone. “Stop me.” She sat in his lap and bit his lip, grinding hard against him.

He didn’t stop her.

===

Queen Daenerys desperately wanted to solidify her rule, and to force everyone around her to acknowledge that she’d done so. Consequently, Cersei was unsurprised to hear she planned to host a party ostensibly in Brienne’s honor, to celebrate her engagement.

“This is humiliation,” Brienne said when she got their invitation. She held up the paper with its enormous “Guest of Honor” lettering. “What does she think to do, how does she want me to submit? I’d do anything if it meant not having to attend this.”

Jaime, of course, looked ready to promise her his sword, his cock, and his very soul. Do anything, indeed.

“She’s a queen, you naive fool. She wants everyone beneath her thumb. I suppose you’re an example of that. Famously a maid, now about to be wed to a bastard she has elevated beyond all imagining, all thanks to her overwhelming power.”

“She is powerful,” Brienne said quietly. Her unearthly eyes were focused on Cersei as though she thought Cersei might pull a dagger out of her skirts. “I wish you’d remember that.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you’re determined to make a fool of yourself, pretending the Queen can’t hurt you.”

Jaime laughed. “She’s got you there.”

“How exactly will I make a fool of myself? Tell me, Lady Brienne.”

“You’ll say something awful, and the Queen will disregard it, because she’s the Queen, and you’ll throw a fit.”

She was wrong, wrong, but Jaime was laughing anyway. Cersei scowled. “Just send your acceptance. I suppose she’s told you to bring us.”

“Yes. You’re the ‘and House Tarth guests’ of this invitation.”

It turned over something awful in Cersei’s stomach. She’d never in her life been an and guest, and she found she hated it. “Fine. Accept on all our behalf, then.”

That was how they found themselves sitting in the Red Keep’s biggest hall a few days later, at the end of a very long table, over which the Dragon Queen presided. Brienne undoubtedly would have preferred to be at the unimportant end, but the dinner was to celebrate her betrothal. As such, the Dragon Queen sat at the head of the table, and Brienne sat across from Gendry. Next to Brienne sat Cersei; next to Gendry sat Jaime. There was no escaping the dragon bitch tonight.

They made civil conversation, of course. Even Brienne, course and ugly though she might be, had been trained in how to make polite conversation with the high houses of Westeros. It was sort of pathetically alluring, really, how she tried to be charming and attractive despite her many flaws. Cersei drew a great deal of enjoyment out of watching her strive to answer Gendry’s well-meant questions and Jaime’s blatant flirting.

Then the gossip started. It was filtered, of course, this close to the Queen, but some minor daughter of a minor house still managed to say, “Lady Brienne, is it true you wrestled a pig at an inn in the Stormlands, and there Lord Gendry fell in love with you?”

Gendry’s mouth fell open, the rube. Brienne absorbed the blow more gracefully. Her ugly face grew blotchy and the hand clutching a fork trembled a bit, but she only said, “No, Lady Jocelyn. I had never met Lord Gendry before the Queen introduced us.”

Cersei tried to exercise restraint and found she couldn’t. “And why should she have?” she said, loud and amused enough that she knew her words would make their way to the lower tables. “Gendry - excuse me, Lord Gendry wouldn’t have been anything to her before the Queen elevated him. Long may she reign,” she added, with a completely correct nod in the little queen’s direction. “So why would she care?”

“Well, he’s beautiful,” said the minor daughter. “And she’s - my lady, you’re just so unique, I suppose.”

Titters rang down the table, malevolence Cersei well know. Brienne turned an ugly, dull red. What a useless fool, letting them know how they’d touched her.

“I don’t imagine she cares now, do you?” Cersei said brightly. “Imagine! She’ll be Lady of the Stormlands now. She can simply exile those who displease her. My own dear Lady Brienne, it feels almost like we’re sisters.”

And despite what crude jokes might be crafted from the statement, despite the fact that Cersei Lannister was a tarnished member of a tarnished house - despite the fact that people had begun to view Tyrion as a lucky accident, his deformity proof that he wasn’t like those other Lannisters - in spite of everything, Cersei’s luck or her reputation for cruelty held. No one spoke ill of Brienne for the rest of the night.

The three of them went back together. It didn’t occur to Cersei to think anything of until Brienne said, locking the door to the suit, “I’m a laughingstock, you know, and Gendry too.”

“For what? What could they possibly take issue with?” Jaime said.

“This.” Brienne turned around, back against the locked door, and surveyed Cersei and Jaime. They stood close together, Cersei not quite holding Jaime’s hand. She supposed they looked similar, in red and gold, twins as they were. But - “It’s good to have connections,” Cersei said. “You’re the head of a minor house. It’s only sensible for you to have social alliances.”

Brienne laughed, a hollow and bitter noise that hardly sounded like her at all. “The queen told me you’ll bring nothing but trouble.”

“The queen’s a naive idiot,” Cersei snapped. “Even you can’t possibly be stupid enough to trust her.”

But Brienne was too far gone on the poison that had been whispered in her ear that night. “I’m ugly. Why would anyone - why would the Kingslayer - keep company with me, unless I’m - unless -”

She couldn’t get the words out. Jaime was white with pain, knowing what she was about to say. Cersei found herself furious. “Say it. Go on, we both know what you’re thinking, so say it.”

“Unless I’m fucking him,” Brienne whispered.

She was flushed with wine and so was Jaime; Cersei, who drank during the day and every night, wasn’t drunk, but she wasn’t truly in her right mind, either. She was acting entirely on instinct and damned impulse when she said, “How do you suppose I came to fuck my brother?”

Brienne blinked. “I don’t - my lady, I don’t think -”

“I was but a girl. I knew I was to be married, and I wanted to understand. I was fascinated by it all, you see. So I asked my twin, the other half of my own soul, to help me.”

“Cersei,” Jaime said. The no was implied.

But Cersei had never cared about Jaime’s maidenish objections. Now was no different. “What do you think he did, when I asked him?”

Brienne knew. The certainty came to her with a savage joy: whatever else she was, a maid, a simpleton, a prude, Brienne understood perfectly what it was Cersei was trying to tell her.

“I’ve had too much wine for this,” Brienne said. “I’m sorry. I should - go.”

“But where?” Cersei forced herself to sound sweet, as sweet as she’d been when she first met Robert. “The Queen, wise as she is, gave the three of us this room to share. Do you propose to spend the night at the library?”

“Why must you behave this way?” Brienne burst out. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to be civil, at least some of the time?”

Cersei didn’t understand where Brienne thought she might have been more civil, so she didn’t answer. Instead she simply stood there as Brienne gave up on the idea of leaving, slumping back onto the chaise. She was so very flushed still, and Cersei watched her brother watch the Maid of Tarth as she tucked her feet under her and tilted her head towards the ceiling.

Jaime had only looked at a few people that way, with the sort of gobsmacked expression that meant he was ready to swear his sword, his cock, to her. Well, no, he’d only looked at one person that way: Cersei.

What humiliating company to find herself in. It would be a relief when Gendry took Brienne from them, destroyed her innocence and set her about her natural path of having children and playing house. Though of course it was tragic for her that she was too ugly for a man to have touched her before. It was truly sad that she’d roamed all of Westeros and never managed to get a cock in her. In fact -

“You should know what it’s like.”

Brienne stiffened. “I’m sorry?”

It was a mad impulse that had seized her, and the smart thing to do would be to back down, to urge Brienne to forget she’d said it. But -

Well, she was huge and ugly. Neither of those facts could be debated. But Cersei had learned not to fear ugly things, and she’d learned not to back down. So she said, “Fucking a man, you should know what it’s like. I know my dear brother watched last time, but it’s not really the same, is it?”

“Cersei, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jaime said.

Cersei didn’t bother to look at him. Her blood hummed, her cunt throbbed. She wanted this - she was half gone just thinking of it. Of course Jaime wanted it too. “What you won’t.”

Brienne shook her head. “I don’t want to be between you. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t you,” Cersei said, evenly, pleasantly. Brienne clearly thought it was her dismissal; she relaxed and looked away. That gave Cersei the opening she needed to reach over and grab Jaime, a fist in his hair, a hand pressing his legs apart. “Look at him, Brienne. Wouldn’t you rather learn on someone suited to the task?”

Jaime and Brienne gasped almost at the same time, the noises harmonizing with each other in the still air of their room. “I don’t think he wants that!” Brienne said with all the indignant glory of the self-righteous.

“All the more reason for you to take it,” Cersei said, “because he does, and you’re simply too much of a maid to understand.” She slid her hand up his thighs and pressed the fabric of his breeches against his hard cock, outlining it in all its brutal glory. “Look at this, Brienne. He doesn’t just want to fuck you; he’s desperate for it. Weeping for it.” She pressed her thumb against the slit of him, smiling when he gasped. “Don’t you want to give it to him?”

“I don’t…”

Stupid girl. “But you do. Don’t lie to me, Maid of Tarth. You want to spread your legs and let him rut in you, you’d like him to come in you. I’ve felt my belly swell with his child; I can assure you, it was all the better for knowing I’d chosen it.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Jaime said, but who cared what he thought? Not Cersei, for certain.

“The Baratheon bastard’s a green boy who’s been elevated to being a lord.” Cersei stroked Jaime’s hair, letting Brienne see how he tilted his head back, welcoming the touch. “What do you know of men like that, Lady Brienne?”

“You don’t have to answer her,” Jaime said.

But his tone was too breathy to really be authoritative - and anyway, Big Brienne apparently wouldn’t be led. “I know,” Brienne said. Based on the way she looked at Jaime just then, you’d think there were no other people in the whole world.

Then she turned that weighty regard on Cersei, who in spite of herself felt the breath leave her body. “I know very little of any kind of man, my lady,” Brienne said. “Less still of men who plan to actually lie with me, rather than just joking about it. But I don’t want you to offer up your brother’s body, like your father did with you. It’s wrong.”

Cersei forced herself to sound calm, steady as the sun on a summer’s day. “What’s wrong is the idea that you think I could possibly force him as my father did me.”

“Can’t you?” And now Brienne touched Jaime. Just his shoulder, but Cersei felt Jaime tense, heard his choked-back gasp. She hated them both for it. “He follows you. He’d do anything for you.”

“He’d do anything to fuck me. That’s a bit different.”

But Brienne shook her head. “That’s not it at all.”

“Tell her, Jaime.” She stroked his cock again, the fabric rough against her fingers. “Tell her what you truly want. I release you. Say whatever you like.”

“Cersei isn’t my lover,” Jaime said. “She’s my - other half. She is me, do you understand? I will never repudiate her.”

“Because she’s the one who was given to Robert,” Brienne said.

“Sold,” Cersei snapped, “for power and position.”

“You wanted to be Queen,” Jaime said, “and for that I don’t blame you. You wanted power, and I wanted you.” He took a deep breath, ragged, his chest heaving with the effort of it. “And I want Brienne. I want you both. Here, now. Brienne, she can’t make me lie. She already knew the truth when she touched me. She’s known the truth since the moment she saw us in the same room.”

Longer, Cersei thought but didn’t say. His divided loyalty had been clear even from the whispers of spies during their journey south.

“Touch me,” Jaime whispered, staring at her. “Please.”

He looked at Brienne like she was something else entirely, someone intrinsically better than himself. When Cersei had that feeling, she wanted to rip the person who’d made her feel it apart. Jaime only seemed grateful, in awe.

Still, he’d said it, I want you both. Cersei would hold onto him until they both died, as she always had.

“Touch him,” Cersei said when Brienne didn’t move.

“I don’t -” She looked at Cersei, her enormous eyes filling up. “I don’t know how, and I don’t wish to embarrass myself. My lady.”

Cersei knew what Jaime would bid her to do before he said it, before he managed to even start choking out, “Show her.” She rolled her eyes but did as she was bid, flicking his shirt up and pulling it off him.

“He’s much more delicate than you’d think,” she told Brienne. “He likes to be stroked and petted. Like a maid.”

Brienne bit her lip. “Is it - I mean, can I. Or you?”

“Go ahead. Figure out what he likes; I already know it all.”

She watched as Brienne dragged one broad hand over Jaime’s shoulder, down to his nipple. Brienne noticed, of course, the way Jaime jumped and shuddered at that, the gasp he barely held back. “Go on. Do it again; he loves that.”

Brienne looked over at her, then back at Jaime, then back at her, then back at Jaime. “What?” Cersei snapped.

“I’d like if you helped me, my lady,” Brienne said.

It seemed calculated to make her give in, that horrible combination of diffidence and blundering confidence. She saw Jaime’s eyelashes flutter and knew he was close to swooning like a green boy, so she said, “Oh, fine,” and reached out, viciously pinching him.

“See how he jumps,” she said, drawing Brienne’s attention again to his cock. “All he really wants is to be put into position and then used.” She tugged his hair and kissed him; she had to lean against Brienne to do so. Brienne, instead of staying still, touched Jaime’s side, then his nipples again. She could reach around Cersei easily, her monstrously long arm warm against Cersei’s side.

“Take these off,” Cersei said, tugging the laces of Jaime’s breeches.

“I have him throw me around,” she said as Jaime struggled to obey. “He likes to bend me over, don’t you, brother?”

“Cersei -” He groaned when he saw her expression. “Fine, fine, yes. I do; can you blame me?” That last directed at Brienne. “I know she won’t scratch my eyes out then.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. Cersei thought she might get just a bit addicted to that stupid rabbity look of fear. It was just so delicious to see someone understanding what they’d always had to keep hidden - that together they were twice as strong, twice as terrifying. They were only whole like this, when they moved as one.

“Kiss him,” Cersei ordered her.

Brienne did, and they began to move more naturally after that. Jaime reached for Cersei, of course, groaning when he touched her bare breasts, begging when she reached down and grasped his cock. She was so wet she could feel it on her thighs, but that was nothing compared to Brienne, flushed head to toe and gasping with need before they’d done much more than roughly fumble.

“Get on the bed,” she told Jaime. When he obeyed, Cersei nodded at his cockstand. “Climb on,” she told Brienne.

“I - what!”

She rolled her eyes and grasped the base of Jaime’s cock. “Don’t you dare,” she snapped when he moaned. “Don’t move. Brienne: come here.”

Brienne obeyed. She braced herself over him, then slowly lowered herself. She was so monstrously large that it was hardly a stretch at all, but Jaime didn’t seem inclined to complain. He gasped her name, then shouted brokenly when she moved.

“Very good,” Cersei said. “Jaime.”

He met her gaze, and a thrill went through her. He knew exactly what she wanted.

“Come here,” he said. “Sister.”

She went. She faced forward so she wouldn’t have to look at Brienne’s hideous face, swinging her leg over him and lowering her cunt to his mouth. He sighed into it, warm and almost offputting - almost, because then he put his tongue in her.

“Ride him,” Cersei commanded over her shoulder. “But try not to be too ungainly about it. I know you’re a lumbering beast, but -”

The hand on the nape of her neck appeared out of nowhere, and it burned. She stopped speaking immediately, and when those great calloused fingers squeezed, she dropped her head, gasping, clutching Jaime’s face with her thighs. She was coming before she realized what was happening, arching backwards into Brienne’s grip as Jaime eagerly licked her, fingers digging into her thighs.

She came back to awareness when Brienne said, “You may insult me later. But not right now, please.”

She dropped her hand, and Cersei bit her own lip until pain lit up her body so that she didn’t beg her to put it back. Instead, she climbed off her brother’s face and kissed him, smearing her own release on him, then looked up at Brienne and said, “Kiss him.”

Jaime laughed. “Are you sure you want to be the one giving orders, sister dear?”

Kiss him,” Cersei all but snarled, and Brienne obeyed right away. Jaime, the fool, had hardly touched her; it fell to Cersei to find her clit and press against it, rubbing and biting her tits until she came shaking around Jaime’s cock.

And only then did Cersei say, “Very well, spend in her.”

“I - no!” Jaime struggled beneath them. It felt lovely, but Cersei braced a hand on his chest to ensure he stayed down.

“Why not?”

“She’s not - I don’t - oh, fuck.” He arched his back, fucking into her wildly, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Very good.” Cersei all but whispered it, leaning down to pet his hair, to press a thumb against the damp spot on his cheek. “You’re doing so well, darling brother. Look how happy she is. You fucked the nerves right out of her. She’d give you anything right now; if you asked, she’d even give you a child. Spend in her, Jaime.” She twisted his nipple viciously.

As ever, he was helpless to refuse her. He fucked Brienne wildly, and even as she peaked for the second time, he came, clutching her hips to him and crying out in that way he had. Cersei pressed her thighs together, the sense memory overwhelming her. There’d never been anything like Jaime coming inside her.

The two of them slumped together after, the very picture of spent lovers. Cersei lay stretched out beside them, not quite touching either of them. She watched them stroke each other and gaze into each other’s eyes. “Adorable,” she said when Jaime looked over at her. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Not now, please,” Brienne said in that same patient, firm tone. The ghost of her hand on Cersei’s neck came back to her.

She’d figure out a way to use that perverse desire for control against Brienne later, she decided. Right now, the warm waves of her own completion were washing over her, dragging her down into sleep.

===

Shortly after Cersei fell asleep, Jaime said, “You must never tell her she did this.”

Brienne looked down at Cersei in her arms. “Did she not ever sleep with you?” she asked, the very picture of ladylike bafflement.

The contrast made Jaime want to laugh. Then he realized there was no one to stop him, and so he did. “We could never spend much time enjoying the aftermath. And anyway, she’d push me away.”

“Oh.” Brienne frowned down at the small, not-quite-snoring bundle in her arms. “She seems bigger when she’s awake.”

“She can’t lash you with her tongue when she’s sleeping.” Jaime couldn’t quite keep the fond smile off his face. “That’s the difference.”

“You love her so much.”

Brienne looked humiliated as soon as the words slipped out, of course. Jaime didn’t feel so good about it himself, but he only said, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“My life would be a good deal simpler if I could answer that question.”

“I had hoped to love. I suppose that’s foolish.”

You do love, you silly woman, what else could this possibly be? But he couldn’t say that, or any of the other wild thoughts racing through his mind. “You might still.”

She snorted. “I’m not sure I can love a pretty lord. And he likely can’t love me, either.”

She sounded so fucking accepting of the facts she’d just decided on - as though it were not just obvious but inevitable that she should go unloved by a jumped-up blacksmith who’d be thrice-blessed by the old gods and the new just to touch her. Jaime closed his eyes against the fresh rush of fury in him.

“Well, I’m not sure you want the sort of love I have,” he said. He tried not to sound exhausted; he wasn’t sure it worked. “It’s likely to kill me someday.”

“But it wasn’t what lost you a hand.”

She was so close to touching the truth that he knew she didn’t want to consider. “Not directly, anyway.”

“Did you ever - think about stopping? Did you ever try?”

“She is the other part of me.” He couldn’t help but reach out then, stroking Cersei’s hair. “It would be like losing another hand.”

Brienne was quiet for long enough that Jaime began to drowse. “I’ll never have that.”

“Well, you don’t have a twin. And if you had one, I’d advise not doing…this.”

“I think I understand. But I’m not…she’s awful, and she’s wonderful. Lord Gendry is only another man.”

It burned in Jaime like a brand. He wanted to ask her if he was only another man too, if she might - if she did - care for him. But he couldn’t truly say his love for her was the same as his love for his sister. He’d told Catelyn Stark that there were no men like him, and he’d meant it. He couldn’t imagine being a person who didn’t love Cersei to the border of madness and into the wild land that lay beyond. He had never truly tried to change, because he suspected there was nothing to change into. Not for him, never for him.

Gendry would be good for her. He’d bring her back into the world of ordinary courtly behavior, where she belonged. The whole world was mad right now, and Gendry wouldn’t be spared any more than anyone else, but he wasn’t in the maelstrom of it the way every single fucking Lannister was. He might save Brienne, in a way all of Jaime’s bear-related gallantry had never come close to doing.

“Another man can still give you children, a home. And he’s Lord Paramount. You’ll never want for anything.”

“Tarth is comparatively poor, Ser Jaime, but still I’ve never wanted.” She sighed. “But I must. I know I must. I only wish…”

He knew he shouldn’t ask her; he had no doubt he’d regret knowing the answer. And yet. “What?”

“I wish I’d never done this.” She looked down at Cersei. “I can’t undo it, and I’ll do it again if she asks. But I think it might have been simpler if I hadn’t started.”

His throat closed up at that. Damn it, but he knew precisely what she meant. Losing her was going to feel like losing another fucking part of himself, but he couldn’t push her away - he wouldn’t, not if his life depended on it, maybe not even if his House depended on it. “I’m sorry.”

The smile she gave him was sweet as spun sugar and ugly as a horse’s ass. “Don’t be.”

Between them, Cersei slept.

===

Cersei balled up the invitation and threw it into the fire. “Damn that old bitch. Yes, fine, we’ll be there,” she told the page, who ran away before she’d even finished talking.

Brienne was to be married in a week and two days, a deadline that Cersei unfortunately couldn’t help but keep track of. The Dragon Queen had mentioned her children every time Cersei had dined with her, and thus she knew that being able to see them was a week and three days away. And now, Olenna Tyrell, who sat on the Queen’s small council, had bade them to come for tea.

“Just the two of us,” Cersei told Jaime. “Not you, of course. I’ve never gotten the impression she liked men.”

“Imagine that,” Jaime murmured.

“I like men,” Cersei said sharply.

“Of course. Well, you like me.”

And Lancel, but she knew if she threw that in his face now he’d only sulk later. “At least your cow has dresses suitable for an audience with Tyrells.”

“Surely she’s your cow too, now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Who’s being ridiculous? We’re in her room. She jumps when she sees you now, same as she does me.”

“I’m not the one who might have impregnated her.”

Jaime grimaced. “She took the tea.”

“This time.”

And she knew Jaime wanted to needle her as he had done in the past, to remind her that they had three children of her body. But one of them was dead, one gone, and the other rotting in a dungeon leagues beneath their feet. The truth lurked between them.

“Damn you,” Cersei said when he didn’t respond. She left him then, going down to the practice yard where Brienne spent the majority of her time.

She heard her before she saw her. Brienne had informed her that she grunted so much because it was a way of focusing her physical effort. It was a habit Cersei found repulsive, but it did make it useful for locating her. She was dueling Ser Jorah Mormont, and making a good show of it. As Cersei came to a stop on the edge of the yard, Brienne glanced at her and then dealt Ser Jorah an brutal blow, bringing him to his knees. “Yield, Ser.”

“I yield, my lady.”

He sounded downright infatuated. Cersei did her best to conceal how much that disturbed her. It was absolutely inappropriate for Brienne to be cavorting with one of the Dragon Queen’s pets a week before her own wedding.

“Lady Cersei,” Brienne said. “I assume you didn’t come here to watch me beat up Her Grace’s Kingsguard.”

Why, that almost sounded like flirting. How their Brienne had grown. “No, of course not. Olenna Tyrell has summoned us for tea this afternoon. I thought you’d like enough warning to ensure you don’t stink of the stables.”

“Yes, thank you. And Jaime?”

“Not invited.” Cersei shrugged. “Lady Olenna prefers to avoid the company of men.”

The exquisite innuendo was utterly lost on Brienne, of course. “Right. Well, thank you. I suppose I’ll see you there.”

“Don’t be absurd. The note was sent to our room. We’ll go over together.” Cersei offered her arm.

For a moment Brienne only stared at her. It made Cersei even more aware of the perversity of her, with her enormous armor and smelly, sweaty presence. She wondered what Brienne would do if she made Brienne service her like this, as a knight would. Jaime had fucked her after fighting, and he’d fucked her in his armor too, when she bade it. Would Brienne?

A thought for another time. “Come now, Lady Brienne.” She patted her arm.

Brienne finally took her elbow and let Cersei lead her back to her rooms. An hour of hurried bathing later, they were both presentable for Lady Olenna. Of course, as soon as the Lady in question saw them, she said, “You both look as though our Queen dunked you in the harbor. Sit down.”

Brienne the ever-stupid stayed up, hands folded in the perfect image of a biddable miss. Of course, Cersei knew the danger behind such a pose. She remembered Brienne standing just so, as she told Cersei all about her special love for Cersei’s twin. “Before I sit, I’m afraid I must ask the reason for this call. My lady.”

“I’m old and was feeling social, and my granddaughter’s still in mourning. Shall we revisit the reasons for that, or do you plan to behave?”

How dare she. How dare she, this jumped-up old bitch, this wheat-hoarding little -

“Cersei.” Brienne’s voice held neither guile nor mockery. Cersei curled her hands into claws, letting herself imagine just for a moment how Olenna Tyrell might react if Cersei were to scratch Brienne’s noble eyes out of her skull right here at this table. Let her try getting blood stains out of her fucking rose-embroidered tapestries.

“Cersei,” Brienne said again, and Cersei knew she’d already lost.

“Damn you,” she told Brienne, and sat.

“Fascinating.” Lady Olenna pushed tea at both of them. “You there. Boy. Get me olives.” The Spider’s spy thus dismissed, she said, “I must ask, Lady Cersei - you both seem so comfortable. Have you finally discovered you prefer the company of women? I always thought so, but my granddaughter wasn’t so sure.”

“Excuse me!” Brienne said.

“Fuck off,” Cersei said.

“Ah, so you did. Well, I congratulate you, then. And condolences to your brother, of course. He’s going to need to fuck his way through a lot of blondes to deal with this, I bet.”

“My lady!”

Cersei rather suspected trying to kill the old bitch wouldn’t have stopped her. But Brienne sounded genuinely upset, as she always did, because she was just so fucking true all the time. Lady Olenna registered the same surprise everyone did when faced with an enormous, honorable fool. But then, to Cersei’s shock, she softened. “I apologize, my dear. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Brienne kept her eyes trained on the table and didn’t respond.

“I dearly regret not having you killed when I had the chance,” Cersei said. “Though I suppose I do retain hope for the future after all.” She bared her teeth at Lady Olenna in a mockery of a smile.

“Well, then, there it is. I truly did not mean to embarrass you, child.” A wrinkly old hand patted Brienne’s battered one. “But you should be embarrassed, you know. More than a bit. Did you not consider someone a bit less cruel?”

“I - my lady, I don’t -”

“Oh, very well. Look! Olives.”

The rest of the tea was positively dull. Lady Olenna was capable of keeping up a stream of idle chatter just as well as any Lannister, but the civility and normalcy of it kept surprising Cersei. They’d had no such social events on Tarth; imagining Brienne trying to put one together was pathetically hilarious. Cersei couldn’t say she’d missed it.

When she finally released them, Brienne took off at a near-gallop for their rooms. Cersei gripped her arm and nearly knocked them both over trying to slow them down. “Let’s take a walk around the gardens.”

“For - why?”

“Because Lady Olenna’s love of rosewater cakes doesn’t agree with my digestion. And there’s sun, and I missed the civilized world, and my brother’s busy for hours yet.” Cersei smiled up at her, thrilling to see how quickly Brienne had to look away. “And because I wish it.”

“Fine,” Brienne said through gritted teeth.

“Lovely. You may escort me, my lady.”

They made it deep within the rose garden before Brienne’s patience wore thin enough to say, “What did she mean, finally? What was she accusing us of?”

“The same activities we’ve engaged in, I suppose. Though she’s not as smart as she thinks she is, if she imagines I’ve abandoned Jaime.”

“No one thinks you’ve stopped fucking your brother, my lady.”

“You sound so disapproving for a participant.”

Brienne’s animalistic whuffing noises sounded even more out of place in the delicate beauty of the garden. “I’m not -”

“Let’s not lie to each other, dear.”

“I’m not your dear.”

But you are, Cersei thought. She supposed if you were hulking and powerful and could beat the shit out of Ser Jorah Mormont without even needing your real sword, you might not find Cersei’s disapproval much of a threat. But Cersei had killed many people for crossing her. She would burn down the entirety of King’s Landing if she thought it would get her Tommen back. Surely Brienne realized that if Cersei didn’t enjoy this little game they played, she’d end it, and Brienne would pay with her life?

But then, perhaps Brienne thought she wanted to spare Jaime more pain. She was noble-minded enough for such a misunderstanding to be plausible.

“Anyway, she was just saying whatever she thought might upset us, because Lady Olenna believes there’s truth in what people do when they’re angry.”

“Do you?”

“I think Lady Olenna’s a fool, and I’ll enjoy watching her die.”

They didn’t talk after that. They took another turn around the garden and then Brienne delivered her back to their suite, where Jaime waited with a book and a flagon of wine. Cersei got very drunk that night, drunker than she’d been since they’d left Tarth. She slept on the chaise; Brienne and her dear brother lay on the bed with enough room between them for two Cerseis, looking neither at each other nor at Cersei herself. Drunk, she found it hilarious. Hungover the next morning, she found it infuriating.

===

With a week to go until Brienne’s wedding, Cersei walked in on Jaime drunk in their sitting room at high noon.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He couldn’t tell her that he’d been imagining Brienne wedding Gendry, the pain on her face, her gritting her teeth through her wedding night. He had intimate knowledge of such things from watching the Mad King’s rapes, and then Robert’s own use of his sister. Cersei didn’t need to know.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said some minutes later, rocking against his cock. Her smallclothes were already well on the way to soaked. “Anyone could walk in, you know.”

That little detail had nothing to do with his grief whatsoever, so he decided to run with it. “Very few people are likely to. Except for Lady Brienne, I suppose.”

Cersei gasped against him, and he couldn’t hold back his smile. “You like that?”

“She’s -” Cersei swallowed, undulating her hips. “Not as loathsome as most of your other options.”

“You like fucking her, admit it.”

“She’s hideous.”

“Sister mine, that’s not what I asked.”

“You didn’t ask -”

He caught her by the hair and tugged brutally, giving her a biting kiss. “Tell me you like fucking her, Cersei.”

“I - fuck - you know I do. She moves wonderfully. Now tell me what’s got you drunk and stupid.”

He pulled her dress off. She grabbed his balls viciously, a threat in the movement. “Tell me.”

“You’ll just have to guess.”

But his eyes strayed to Brienne’s trunk, and he saw the moment his other half understood. She snarled and took him inside her, riding him viciously, and they didn’t speak after that. Again he felt Brienne in the room with them, a ghost on the edge of his vision. This time, though, Cersei accepted it, even got off on it. He made her come speared on his cock, wet and needy, and her eyes weren’t focused on him at all. They were fixed on a point all the way across the room, the rack where Oathkeeper hung, a silent rebuke of all the ways they’d learned to drag Brienne down to earth with them.

===

Cersei swept into their suite. “You’ll never guess who I saw this morning in the sept.”

“No one, dear sister, as you only enter a sept when forced to.”

Cersei ignored him, as he’d known she would. She looked flushed with victory, and the traitorous part of Jaime wondered if it was because there were only four days until Brienne was to become Lady Baratheon. Only four days until Jaime would once again be entirely hers.

“A Martell,” Cersei said. “Which Martell, I’m not sure, but your wedding is shaping up to be quite the event.” She looked around. “Wait. Where’s Brienne?”

“The Queen’s seamstress arrived nearly an hour ago. She’s being fitted in the bedroom.” Jaime was writing to Tyrion, who had declined to attend the wedding of Lord Gendry Baratheon. He had a great deal to say about the Rock’s conversion to granite mining, and of course what he had interpreted as Jaime’s infatuation with Brienne. It was a long letter.

“And you didn’t accompany her?”

“Sister dear, I’m not her husband, her brother, or even her friend. It would be wildly inappropriate. Of course I didn’t.”

Cersei snorted. “You know the Queen doesn’t care about such things.”

“All the more reason for us to uphold them.”

Their argument was interrupted by the bedroom door opening. The Queen’s seamstress swept out, followed by four young women holding yards and yards of blue cloth. “Excuse me,” she said with a remarkably false-looking smile, and took her own leave.

“Do you know, sometimes I think the ordinary folk of King’s Landing would rather not speak to a Lannister at all,” Jaime said.

But Cersei never got a chance to answer his droll commentary in kind. She pursed her lips and made to speak, and from the other room they heard a very soft sob.

It felt like a dagger to the chest. Jaime was on his feet instantly.

“You should just let her cry,” Cersei said, looking between him and the bedroom. “She’ll be doing enough of that in a few days; she might as well get some of it out now.”

“Damn you,” Jaime said. “I know you don’t believe that.”

Cersei tilted her head. “Don’t I?”

“You threatened to kill Olenna Tyrell!”

“For embarrassing me. And for irritating me, really.” Cersei waved a hand. “I know you’ve grown attached to her. I don’t care.”

“You’re lying, and I don’t even have time to tell you how low it makes you seem.” Jaime left his sister standing there and made his way to their bedroom.

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as barging in and offering to slay dragons. Jaime understood that, even if he hated it, even if it seemed counter to his entire point - as a man, as a knight. He had to knock, and wait for Brienne to snuffle and say, “Go away.”

Then he had to say, “Brienne, please, let me in,” doing his best to sound charmingly cajoling.

But of course he knew Brienne was going to say no, and then what? He’d wait outside like a fucking one-man Night’s Watch, he supposed. She had to leave in four days’ time, if not sooner.

But instead, as soon as Brienne said, “I said go away!”, Cersei stood beside him, imperious and annoyed. She pushed the door open.

“Quit being such a fluttering little miss. Look at you. Why are you crying? Surely the Queen’s seamstress hasn’t displeased you that badly.”

Jaime found himself completely unable to summon speech. Cersei might not care about the fact that Brienne sat on the end of their bed in only her shift, blotchy and snot-faced from sobbing, but it wrenched Jaime’s heart. It was about the wedding, he knew; it had to be. Cersei would show her no mercy. She’d probably be crying even harder five minutes from now, and Jaime was simply too much of a coward to stop it.

“It’s not the dress,” Brienne said. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but only succeeded in making herself messier. “It’s everything but the dress, damn the Queen’s seamstress. The dress is nice.”

“Here.” Cersei threw a handkerchief at her head. “Wipe yourself up. It’s the marriage, then?”

“Of course it is!”

“I thought we’d been over this already.”

“I don’t -”

“You’ll marry Gendry and become Lady of Storm’s End. You’ll be powerful and if people don’t love you, at the least they’ll have to pretend they do. And of course, Jaime will be sworn to you forever. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

No.”

Brienne was red as a tomato, Jaime saw, and she’d avoided looking at him altogether. He wanted to say it was just as well; what comfort could he possibly offer to crying maidens? But Cersei glared at him, jerking her head towards Brienne. When he failed to respond, she grabbed his arm and dragged him over.

Brienne looked up at them both. They were nearly at eye level even with her sitting, thanks to how tall she was, and Jaime’s breath caught at the hopeless expression on her face. “Brienne,” he said, stupid, helpless.

“You cannot change the queen’s will,” Cersei said. “She wills you to marry Gendry, and so you’ll marry him. But you do yourself no favors sniveling like this.”

“What else am I meant to do!”

“Find a way to live with it.”

Brienne sobbed. “I don’t -”

Jaime felt his twin’s intention a moment before she moved. She surged forward and captured Brienne’s lips with her own, climbing into her lap. Brienne made a strangled noise but didn’t push Cersei away; she gripped Cersei’s hair with the agonized determination of one trying to avoid drowning.

Jaime had seen Cersei cruel, and he’d seen her frustrated, and he’d seen her enraged. This was all of that and more. She bit Brienne’s lip and pushed her backwards, ripped her shift rather than bother helping Brienne out of it.

“Do not be a coward,” she snarled, and pinched Brienne’s nipples until she cried out.

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“You’re flat as a board and stronger than most men.” Cersei bit Brienne’s jaw. Jaime stopped midway through trying to join them, absolutely entranced by the way Brienne’s breasts could be completely covered by Cersei’s hands. But Cersei was wrong; she wasn’t flat. The muscles of her ass shifted gloriously as she moved beneath his sister.

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered.

She had the wingspan to reach out and catch him, pulling him to her side. He took off his shirt when she tugged at it, then bent to kiss her as his sister knocked her thighs apart, plunging her fingers into Brienne.

“It’s unlikely to hurt,” Cersei said. Her voice was still deliberately light, horribly mocking. “You’ll swallow his cock in here, you know. He won’t even realized what’s happened to him.” She did something with her hand that made Brienne gasp.

“Cersei,” Jaime said. “Don’t -”

“Don’t what?” She looked up at him. “Should I refuse to tell her the truth, as my septa did me? She already knows what it feels like, thanks to you.”

And of course he was hard, of course he wanted, but when she reached out and touched him - it felt more dangerous even than it had when they’d fucked in her marriage bed. “Cersei.”

“Jaime.” Mocking voice, mocking eyes. And still she moved her hand between Brienne’s legs.

Fingers with the strength of iron bands wrapped around his wrist. “Don’t be awful to each other,” Brienne said.

He felt the order in his bones, and for once he knew Cersei felt the exact same thing. She shuddered a little and looked away from both of them.

“I don’t want Gendry,” Brienne said, staring at the ceiling. She already looked so debauched, bite marks everywhere, her hair askew. And of course his sister’s hand between her legs, never stopping. “I want this. But I can’t - so.” She moved against Cersei, widening her legs, fucking herself on Cersei’s fingers. “Give me this instead. Just once more.”

“Four days,” Cersei said quietly. “We can do better than once more.” And then, as Brienne laughed hopelessly, she latched herself onto Brienne’s cunt, licking and thrusting and making her gasp against Jaime’s mouth.

Jaime kissed her, held her. He touched her hair and her great, strong shoulders, and he whispered comfort when Cersei wrung moans out of her. He was so close, plastered along her side, that he felt the moment she stiffened, before she said, “What are you doing?”

Cersei looked the picture of innocence, kneeling between her legs. “Fucking you.”

“What - what is that? What am I feeling?”

It was the wrong question. Wickedness, pure and spiteful, stole across her expression. “Jaime, darling, why don’t you come down here and tell her?”

Jaime could think of a thousand things he’d prefer to do. But he pulled himself out from where he’d been half beneath Brienne, moving until he could see -

Oh, gods.

“Jaime? What’s she done?”

Brienne surely must have felt his cock jump against her thigh. There was no hiding, not here with the three of them. “She’s. Inside you.”

“All the way,” Cersei said, and thrust.

Brienne shouted and arched her back, fucking herself on Cersei’s hand - for that was what it was. Jaime couldn’t look away from the way Brienne’s cunt stretched around Cersei’s wrist, the way her wrist glistened. He reached out and pressed his thumb on her clit, and Brienne shook head to toe, coming just from that - and then she began moving again, seeking more.

Cersei kissed him as they worked her together, vicious and selfish and wholly focused on Brienne. He couldn’t look away from them - Cersei biting Brienne’s thigh, her shoulder working as she fucked her, and Brienne moaning and begging and clinging to them both.

She came again, and a third time, gasping for mercy as Cersei slid out of her. And - Cersei’s hand was obscene, wet to her forearm. She wiped it on the linens and turned to Jaime, fierce and bright as Casterly Rock at the height of summer, shoving him backwards next to Brienne and climbing on top of him.

Brienne’s smell surrounded him; he felt her sweat against the spots they pressed together. Cersei slapped him when he looked at her too long, and that only made it better, pushed him ever closer to peaking. It only took a few minutes for them both to come, easy and familiar as it could only be between them.

And then Cersei looked over at Brienne and said, “Your Lord Paramount will never give you this.”

Brienne shook her head, closing her eyes. Cersei kissed her, then Jaime, then her again. Jaime felt scraped raw, useless and desperate. He said, “Cersei -”

“Only I can give you what you want,” Cersei said. “No one else can give you this. Him.”

Brienne looked at Jaime. For a moment she’d seemed herself again, but that moment had fled. Now he saw her fear and pain, the ways in which a forced marriage to a man she hardly knew made her small. He hated everything in that moment: himself, Cersei, the Dragon Queen. Even Brienne, a bit, for being so fierce and brutal and still, in the end, subjecting herself to a lady’s duty.

“Damn you,” Cersei spat, and climbed off Jaime’s cock. Jaime knew this routine too well, even after all these years. He didn’t look away from Brienne as his sister cleaned herself up and stormed out of their suite.