Work Text:
"Love is weakness," whispered Cersei Lannister, a cup of red of Arbor in her right hand.
The room was dark and silent, the only light coming from the half-opened window: a weak beam of moonlight brightening the queen’s golden hair.
Love is weakness, and I am not weak. I am the daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister.
The wine was sweet and sour at the same time on her palate, Cersei savored it long before letting it slip on her dried throat. She felt her head starting to spin but she let it go, accustomed by now to that kind of feeling; penetrating, hard and strong.
And I am strong too, a lioness of Casterly Rock.
It was not worth being weak, she knew it. It was not worth the effort. For no one. Cersei considered that last thought a little longer, then she took another sip from the cup, finishing it in one go.