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Chapter Text

Cersei stirred, stretching her legs in the hope to find Jaime's warmth under the thick furs, to tangle with him and ease the desperate sense of loneliness storming inside her, but she was only greeted by the sudden void she had felt in her sleep, his place already cold and empty next to her, and her eyes blinked wide open. Once. Twice. Wispy noises of embers crackling in the fireplace graced the air while, alert, her emeralds tried to adjust to the cool, pale glow of the morning flowing through the windows. 

As the heaviness of the night she had spent tossing around slowly waved away, the blurry edges of the shadow moving across the room became more clear and distinct to reveal the silhouette of her brother. Fully dressed in dark leather and small touches of gold belted around his waist, Jaime was about to leave for some reasons she couldn't grasp. 

She frowned, confused, reminiscences of furtive meetings and stolen kisses flashing through her mind for a brief second.

Now their secret was out and everyone knew the child growing inside of her was his, he had no reason anymore to leave the comfort of their bed so early in the morning in fear someone would find them. For months now, since she made sure her maid knew the rumors of their incest were true, at the very exception of his trip to the Reach, their days always started the same way; twisted in each other's arms as it was always meant to be. They would break their fast together then, before going on on their duties, but they never woke up apart. Cersei didn't want to break this new habit, she cherished too much those idly moments that had been denied to them for so long, and she wanted him back here, next to her.

"Where are you going?" she wondered, and Jaime spun on his heels at the sound of her voice, still filled with sleep, his sharp features softening to throw her a loving gaze.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Not an answer." Cersei raised an eyebrow in expectation and a smile spread across his face. 

"Jon Snow asked me to train some of the Northern children early this morning," he eventually replied as he crawled back next to her, his good hand immediately finding the curve of her stomach.

His lips captured hers to share a sweet morning kiss, smothering the annoyed groan escaping from her throat. As he recoiled, her brother snorted at her irritation caused by Ned Stark's bastard's new demand.

It wasn't the first one. Since their arrival over a week ago now, it seemed the dethroned King in the North and his people always found a way to keep Jaime away from her. Always keeping him busy with sparring sessions and battle plans for an upcoming war she believed coming out from an old song made to scare petulant children.

With some luck, the Night King would wipe out Daenerys Targaryen and her armies of savages, taking down another dragon on its way as Cersei had figured it out for the first one, or both, before the North would get rid of the dead. The Dragon Queen's short, insignificant revolt would be long forgotten and Jaime and her would be able to return to King's Landing, secure her claim to the throne and rule together as she had always intended. 

Euron Greyjoy would still be a matter to solve though. The man irked her brother as much as her, she knew it. She had to temper Jaime's anger toward him more than once and his not-so-subtle threat against their baby's life was still leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. No matter the issue of the war, his fate was sealed but, if the Mad King's daughter was meant to survive the Long Night, they would still have to deal a bit longer with him and his insistent proposal for her hand in order to keep him as an ally until the girl was dead and rotting on the ground. However, if she was bound to lose her life facing the dead, one look and Jaime would gladly slay him from guts to bones and serve his head on a plate for her the very moment they would come back to the capital.

Cersei was hoping for the latter. The sooner those wars and stupid schemes would be over, the sooner they would be rewarded with the peace they deserved, with the life they always dreamed of in their sweetest, wildest reveries. People would bow at their feet and the Realm would flourish under their reign. No more conflicts, the Crown's debt fully paid and deals made with the Iron Bank and mostly, the chance to call Jaime her husband and to welcome their baby within the safe walls of their home.

"I told you last night, you don't remember ?" 

Jaime's question pulled her out of her daydream. He probably did, but the lack of sleep made her forget. 

"No," Cersei sighed and her hand reached for the lace fastening the collar of his jacket. "Or you could just ignore him, stay here and go back to sleep," she suggested, locking her hopeful gaze with his as she twisted and toyed with the string between her fingers, unwrapping the bow.

"As much as I'd love to, and you know that, we are not the most welcome here," Jaime pointed out and the glimmer of softness in his eyes faded to turn into a dark, serious expression on his face. "I won't put us at risk by refusing to train some children."

Trapped in a foreign land with enemies surrounding them, they had to deploy smooth smiles and polite niceties these days. The sour glares on the Northerners' faces at their arrival still followed them everywhere they went. Daenerys Targaryen wasn't better, despite the temporary truce they all agreed on with Tyrion's help. The faint lilac touches dappling her blue eyes always glinted with some avid frustration Cersei knew all too well. Wolves and dragons were ready to tear lions apart and feast on their flesh as if they were nothing but frightened sheeps, and Jaime and her had no other choice but to swallow their pride. For a time, at least.

Knowing his argument was more than pertinent, Cersei eventually consented to watch him go in the end, but the deception to not share the first hour of the morning with her brother was still burning deep in her veins.

"In the meantime, get more rest," Jaime spoke again before pressing a kiss on her forehead. "You barely slept last night."

She let out another sigh at the reminder. She definitely wouldn't refuse some more hours of sleep, even if it had to be in the solitude of their bed, and with a flick of her wrist, her fingers moved from his chest to cover his hand still resting on her bump, the tip of her thumb running up and down the side of his calloused index. "Someone kept me awake," Cersei replied with a smile.

Her twin mirrored the content grin stretching her lips and quickly lowered himself toward the cause of her sleepless night, dropping another tender kiss here, on the swell of her belly, a new habit she had grown fond of and would surely miss once their baby would be born.

"You made quite a fuss last night," Jaime whispered to their child.

Cersei held a chuckle at the perceptible point of amusement in her brother's voice though, a few hours ago, she hadn't been delighted by their little cub's antics as she usually was. 

The kicks had started soon after dinner, gentle at first, light greets under the touch of their hands, before blooming into fierce, intense blows prompting great pains in her ribs. Later curled up in bed, Jaime and her had tried to calm their child's joyful spirit, with no much luck unfortunately. Her brother had fallen asleep after a while, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and Cersei had found herself shifting from one side to another, turning and tossing around, her eyes wide open counting the cracks on the wall to then stir and stare at the ceiling and then stir again and watch Jaime in his sleep, counting the wrinkles tracing thin lines at the edge of his emeralds before stirring over, and over again.

When at last, their child had grown tired of its little dance and gone quiet, almost half of the night had been already spent but to her relief, the ache had started to fade and comforted by the sight of Jaime's serene face basked in the dim glow of the candlelight and the steady waves of his chest, her mind had slowly drifted away.

"Be sweet today and let your mother sleep," Jaime urged softly. 

"If you keep talking to her, you are going to wake her up and she'll start kicking again," Cersei warned, her fingers now running in his hair. It had grown longer during their journey on the road to Winterfell, she noticed, and she pulled a strand to lock it behind his ear. "You know how much she loves to do that when she hears your voice."

She. She wanted a girl, a precious princess. Jaime too, he told her himself, and she could sense deep in her bones the child she was carrying was a girl, a visceral thought clutching onto her since the moment Qyburn had confirmed her suspicion was right. Joanna. The name always lingered in her mind, tasting more and more real everyday on her tongue, like a fateful vision of hope laced with childish memories of warm embraces and motherless tears.

"I know," her brother said to her, before reporting his attention back to their baby, "and I love when you do that." As the press of his lips met again the roundness of her waist, Cersei didn't hold the faint laugh spilling from her throat this time. No wonder why Jaime always spent his time having silent conversation with her stomach now.
 
"Me too," she eventually mused, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"She is strong," Jaime stated, lifting his chin to cut a look at her, "and healthy."

Cersei nodded. Strong and healthy. The pain in her ribs and the sleepless nights coming with it were a blessing, cracks of light shattering and scorching the obscure prophecy who took too much already, small evidences of her remnant fears vanishing under the ardent fire their baby was already showing and when their little girl would draw her first breath, the words would be nothing but dust in the witch's crooked mouth.

Jaime moved up to face her, their two halves laid to mirror each other across the bed. Wrapped in the soothing silence of the early morning, they melted together to become one, one golden flesh kissed by the icy air of the North and the world around them shrunk, narrowing down to a fiery ocean of infinite green as if they were the last two people left. 

Cersei basked in the moment. She drowned in the solace Jaime's presence granted her, a taste of peace racing and thriving deep in her veins in radiant waves until it was ripped away from them by a knock at the door, reminding them Jaime was expected somewhere else.

Her brother was the one heaving an annoyed groan this time. "I'll be back as soon as possible," he promised, leaning closer to her. "Before noon."

"You better."

The smile on her face disappeared under the ghostly touch of his lips, and Cersei held onto him. She grabbed the nape of his neck to urge Jaime further against her, deepening their kiss with the wish her taste would linger on him the whole morning, until he came back to her.

Breathless, they teared apart at last, flushed and gasping for air, their foreheads pressed together and Jaime's fingers brushing her bump one last time.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered.

With those final words sending a kind thrill down her spine, he escaped her grip. A renewed sense of emptiness curled up in her belly at the sudden lack of warmth, her own half missing his weight snuggled against her. The feeling was not as desperate as earlier though, comforted by the fact she knew he wasn't far and he would be back soon, but her hand moved down to lock the last spot Jaime had grazed on her body, here, between her palm and the expanse of her skin shielding their baby, as if she could keep his print on her a bit longer.

Cersei watched him wrap the heavy cloak around his shoulders, an appeased grin spreading across her face, before Jaime walked across the room to open the latch revealing Jon Snow's somber shadow. The man didn't even raise a disturbed eyebrow at the sight of her tangled beneath the fur while her brother picked up his sword hanging down the wall. She could have laughed out loud at how mundane and easy all of this had become if slumber wasn't already taking her back in its embrace. And, as Jaime's image disappeared, captured behind her fluttering eyes, the creaking sound of the door echoing down the castle's walls, Cersei buried her face deeper in her pillow and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Cersei could feel the Northerners' look on them as Jaime and her took their daily walk around Winterfell. She could feel those disdainful, hateful eyes each time they stepped outside their room as if a blade had pierced her through the guts. She always ignored them though, walking her head high. She was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and no matter their hatred for them, the Northerners still needed them to hold the fragile alliance they made with the Starks and the Dragon Queen at their arrival. And with Jaime by her side, she knew nothing would happen to them.

They walked silently, Cersei holding Jaime's arm. Noises of iron clicking against each other coming from the courtyard surrounded them, cold winter air grazed their skin.

Soon, Jaime would have to leave her and join the Northerners to train the young lads and ladies for the war against the Dead and she would be back in their room, locking herself up and waiting for him while resting or scribing instructions to Qyburn until he came back covered in bruises.

She sighed and smoothed a hand over the heavy curve of her belly. When Jaime was outside, their child remained her only comfort. She would enjoy each of its kicks while waiting for its father to come back for her.

"Are you alright?" her brother inquired, an eyebrow raised in worry.

"Tired," Cersei shrugged.

"You have been thoughtful the whole morning."

Cersei remained silent for a minute until she eventually replied, "I simply wish we were home".

Home . Jaime was her home, the one providing the peace of mind she was always seeking, but she missed the sun of the South. The heat gently cradling her face. And back there, they would be safe. Jaime would be safe, away from death, and wouldn't have to fight a war that didn't concern them. 

Even though her brother had quieted her worry and promised he would come back victorious, the fear to lose him was still swirling in the back of her head, plaguing her thoughts nights and days. She could try to brush away the feeling, it always came back stronger, as if her intuition was telling her something would happen in this place and she couldn't escape it.

"We will be soon enough," Jaime stated, confident enough to chase away her doubts for a moment and Cersei nodded.

They kept walking until they reached one of the old, wooden staircases leading to the courtyard and Jaime untangled himself from her to take a step down. He spun on his heels and extended his golden hand for her to grip.

"Careful," he warned as she followed his lead, her free hand lifting up her skirts.

The ghost of a smile curled up Cersei's lips. Jaime had always been protective with her but since the reveal of her pregnancy, he had been more watchful than ever. Making sure every step she took was safe. His renewed attention hadn't remained unnoticed and Cersei couldn't help but enjoy having her brother doting on her and their baby, the little sparkle in his eyes when a kick greeted the palm of his hand and how impatient he was at the idea of being a father soon.

They slowly made their way down to the snowy courtyard. Here, children no older than Myrcella and Tommen had been when they first visited Winterfell were running around, playing swordplay, shooting arrows. Children training for the war to come. At the other end of the yard, some men and women were serving food to the commoners while others were bringing fruits, vegetables and flowers from the glass garden to the Keep.

The eyes on them were sharper. Jaime and her were two red and black figures lost amongst a storm of grey silhouettes, two lions trapped in the wolves' den. Cersei clung to her brother, keeping her chin high.

The Dragon Queen, walking with her exiled knight toward the library, crossed their path at one point. Her blue eyes ablaze with purple flames threw them an envious look and Cersei felt Jaime tense next to her. Ready to fight.

"Ignore her," Cersei softly whispered in the crook of his neck.

Much to her relief, her voice was enough to reason him. The tension in his body loosened up. He followed her advice and ignored the silver-haired woman who, soon, disappeared inside the tower. 

The war against her would come soon enough; they didn't need a useless confrontation in the arms of Winterfell to feed the woman's anger. 

They circled around the yard, looking at the children practicing their new learned skills.

Suddenly, her brother stopped their tracks. "Stay here a second," he said before marching toward an old woman with shades of grey hair holding a large bouquet of blue roses.

Cersei's brows creased in confusion as she watched her brother talk to the servant. 

The woman eventually smiled and gave him one of the flowers she was holding. Jaime took it, speaking a few last words to her before she carried on her path. 

And Jaime walked back toward her, a broad smirk on his thin lips that could illuminate the stars, and Cersei knew now what her brother had in mind. A flush crept up her cheeks.

"For you," he whispered.

Cersei delicately seized the rose. She made the stem twirl between her gloved fingers, admiring the magnificent flower with immaculate deep blue petals. 

"A beautiful rose for a beautiful queen," Jaime added.

A giggle slipped through Cersei's lips and she looked back at her twin, a faint smile twisting up her mouth.

"The last time you offered me flowers, you made a crown out of it," Cersei replied.

"I remember."

It had been no long after Tommen's birth. Jaime had come back with a bouquet of wildflowers for her and, while she had hushed their sweet boy to sleep, her brother had turned the bouquet into a flower crown for her to wear. The flowers had dried since then, but Cersei had never been able to throw them away. The fragile and delicate craft was now carefully stored in a wooden box with other memories shared with her brother.

A sudden flutter in her belly, strong and full of life, shook off the lovely reminiscence and Cersei's eyes grew wide in surprise. 

Their child had been strangely quiet the whole morning, until now.

"What is th—" Jaime began, his voice full of concerns, but before he could finish, Cersei grabbed his hand to press it against her stomach where a kick met his palm. " Oh !"

Jaime shared the same grin as her, the same taste of joy.

And the whole world seemed to disappear around them as they stared into each other's eyes. No more wars to fight. No more Dragon Queen and eyes filled with hatred. Just the two of them wrapped in the bubble of their own making, two hearts beating melting into one magical pulse, waiting for the next little jolt to come. A moment Cersei wished that could never end.

"I think our child loves flowers," she eventually spoke again when the kicks dwindled.

"She'll get all the flowers she wants," Jaime affirmed.

A snowflake landed on one of the graceful petals, pure white resting on deep sapphire. 

Jaime and her peered up at the grey sky of the North before their gaze flicked back at each other, a childish smile on their lips, and Jaime's face dipped closer to hers. Cersei cupped the back of his head to close the distance between them. Her lips captured his. She could taste the ale he had drunk earlier this morning on his tongue as they became one person, their bodies intertwined together. And they poured every ounce of their love and devotion and pride for the other in their kiss as snow fell in earnest in the courtyard.

Chapter Text

The journey up to Winterfell had been long and draining, with more bumpy roads along the way Cersei had predicted and snow falling in earnest the further they went North. The unforgiving winter had frozen them to their bones and the little inns they stopped by didn't provide the comfort Winterfell would. When her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, eventually caught sight earlier today of the large gloomy gates closing the castle, she had sighed in deep relief, a hand gently stroking her ever growing belly. Even the cold look on the Starks' faces when they made their entrance in the courtyard, Jaime and her walking side by side to greet them, hadn't been able to tarnish her mood. She had been quite thankful the little dove granted them to rest for the rest of the day, despite the Dragon Queen's protests to talk about the matters of the war as soon as possible and her complaints they didn't bring the Lannister army with them. The apparent tension between the two women hadn't escaped Cersei's attention and brought a slight smile on her face.

But now, as she watched the servant girl filling the bathtub near the crackling fire with a bucket of water, Cersei was growing impatient. Since the promise of a warm bath had left Sansa Stark's lips after their arrival, she had been longing for the moment she would immerse herself and let the hot water the girl was pouring run along her skin and soothe her aching body.

Hands on her sore back, Cersei paced around the room in her shift, silently cursing the girl for her dullness as she emptied another bucket of water. Once her chore was done, the little servant with brown hair lifted her chin to look at Jaime, sitting over the edge of the bed. "Should I draw a bath for you too, Ser?" she mused, her voice meek as a mouse caught in a trap.

"No need," Cersei replied with a flick of her wrist.

The girl bowed then. "Your—your Grace," she stammered before leaving the room with her empty buckets.

The door closed, Cersei rolled her eyes and halted her steps. A relieved sigh escaped her lips though. The incessant presence of someone in the room had left her little time with her brother since their arrival but now they were together alone. 

Cersei spun on her heels to look at him to find out Jaime was already on his feet, approaching her slowly. He grabbed her by the hips, her growing belly between the two of them stopping him from drawing her closer. A stupid little smirk was dancing on his lips. His good hand worked upward to untie her shift and without a word, they began to undress each other. She discarded Jaime's garnements away. Then her shift pooled at her feet, followed by her smallclothes. Both naked, they moved toward the bathtub, stealing a kiss between each of their steps. 

Holding onto Jaime, Cersei dipped her toes in the tub, testing the water, before immersing herself in the bath. A moan slipped through her lips as the warm water wrapped her in its embrace, releasing the aching tension in her muscles.

"Feeling good?" Jaime wondered with a smile.

Cersei shook her head. "Yes." She slid her hips forward in the tub to let some place for Jaime to settle down behind her. "Come."

Her brother didn't make her wait and joined her, sitting behind her, her hips now trapped between his legs. 

She reclined then to rest her head against Jaime's chest as he wrapped his good arm around the curve of her waist. Now limbs tangled together, he dropped a kiss on her temple before his lips drew soft kisses on her collarbone. Cersei closed her eyes, a soft hum falling from her lips. She could almost feel herself drifting away, forgetting the reason of their presence here, the sound of Jaime's heartbeat in her ear, strong and steady, beating in unison with hers, quieting her nerves.

Enjoying each other's warmth as Jaime gently stroked her bump, a familiar, comfortable silence filled the room until, after a few minutes, her brother eventually broke their blissful bubble. "The Starks and Daenerys Targaryen didn't seem to appreciate our entrance," he said. 

She couldn't see it but, she knew at the sound of his voice he had that arrogant, proud smirk she knew all too well plastered across his face.

Cersei's eyes flickered wide open. "I don't want to talk about them," she sighed. She craned her neck to hold his gaze. "We'll have enough to deal with them in the next few days."

If it hadn't been for Jaime, she would have stayed in the South and let the monsters devour each other while they took back what belonged to them. But watching him walking away from her, determined to leave, had awakened a deep fear in her she had tried to quiet for so long by protecting him; the fear of losing him. Fear had turned into anger then and before he could leave, the confession had slipped between her lips, "No one would have believed us if you had been the one walking away from me. It would have put you at risk and I refused that. I did it to protect you." Jaime had spun on his heels then. "I told you, without you, this is all for nothing." And as burning tears rolled down her cheeks, her brother had walked back to her. Back home. His mouth had claimed hers in a fierce, bruising kiss and he took her there, right on that table, begging her to come with him, in the North. With every new thrust of his hips, her resolve to remain in the South had dwindled and when they eventually fell apart in a dazzling haze soothing their argument, the word " Yes " had been on her lips.

She had followed him, but Jaime wasn't safe yet. He would soon fight in the war against the Dead and she knew, if something was bound to happen, he would rather put his life in danger on the front line than letting something happen to her and their child. 

A life without him. Cersei couldn't picture it. Yet, her worst nightmares were haunted by the vision of her brother falling on the frozen ground, bruised and bloody, and she would wake up in a pool of sweat, heart twinging in her chest as if a knife had sliced it in two. In the dark, her hand would seek for his presence and she would always eventually reach for his chest. There, feeling the steady beat of his heart chasing away her turmoil under the touch of her palm, the constant in her life, she would lean closer to wrap herself in Jaime's arms.

"Besides, I need you to promise me something," she said. Jaime's eyebrows knitted together. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless when you'll fight against the Dead."

"Cersei—"

"You have to promise me," she insisted. And a sudden rush of bittersweet memories made her heart twist in her chest, almost taking her breath away for a second. Cutting her right open. Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. Their Mother. Their Father. She could watch their beautiful faces turning to purple, watch their smiles falter as death took them in its grasp, and tears began to fill the corner of her eyes. Jaime and her were the last of them. And their child, oh, their child, their daughter who she could already picture running in Jaime's arms, had to meet her father. "I can't lose you too." Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

Jaime's grip narrowed around her.

"You won't lose me," he replied. The proud smile had now vanished to let place to a serious expression on his face. "Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise."

"And you won't do anything reckless."

"And I won't do anything reckless," he nodded.

Jaime captured her lips then, the promise he wouldn't put his life in danger sealed with a kiss. The brush of his lips against hers soothed her fears, and she drowned in the fantasy of a life together with their child once the war would be over, three lions whose hearts were beating in unison.

Chapter Text

Nestled in the crook of her father's arm, Joanna was sleeping soundly. So small, and so precious and innocent wrapped in her crimson blanket. She had been only a few days old, but she was already the pride and joy of her parents, and Cersei couldn't help but bow her head down to press a kiss on her daughter's forehead. 

"Are you sure you want to go?" Jaime asked as she straightened her back, and her eyes met his frowning gaze. 

"Yes," she said. "We are celebrating the end of the war." She spun on her heels to walk across the room and let the handmaiden Sansa Stark had sent to her tie the laces of her gown. "Besides, we need to introduce Joanna to the world."

"We do," her brother confirmed. 

She couldn't see his face, but she knew he had a smile splitting his features in two. Since the birth of their daughter, her brother had been dizzy with love, the soft lines around his eyes creaking with pure joy every time his emeralds landed on her or Joanna.

They hadn't left their bedchamber since the end of the war, since Joanna's birth, five days ago, basking in the pure bliss of the sweet smell of milk and newborn scent. Tyrion had come to see them, to see his niece, and inform them of the death of Daenerys Targaryen. A victory for Cersei. Without her, the Dragon Queen's army, or what was left of it, would leave Westeros for Essos as soon as the feast celebrating the victory against the White Walkers would be over. Cersei was cementing her position as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, though Jaime and her would have to deal with the North, and Euron Greyjoy later. Yet, she didn't want to dwell on such thoughts tonight. She wanted to feast and show off their little Princess to the world.

Once the girl had been done with tightening the laces of her gown, she bowed down and disappeared from the room to leave the three of them alone. 

Cersei twirled back to face Jaime, and she made her way toward him. Despite the smile twitching his mouth, a deep worry was brightening his eyes. She knew he was worried about the fact it was too soon after Joanna's birth to leave their room, after all, her womb was still bleeding and her body was still sore with the childbirth which had exhausted her, but she was also feeling fine. "I'll be alright," she reassured before pressing a light kiss on his lips.

"I believe you."

Jaime placed Joanna between her arms, and Cersei held her with delicacy and tenderness. Their daughter cooed at the new change of arms, her tiny, closed fists squirming, but her eyes remained shut.

They left their room, and walked in the corridors of Winterfell. Outburst of laughter could be heard from afar. As they approached the Great Hall, the cacophony grew louder and louder. Cersei lowered her chin to look down at Joanna, afraid she would wake up, but her little lioness was unbothered by the noise. 

When they made their entrance in the Great Hall, a Northerner announced them, "Queen Cersei Lannister, and Ser Jaime Lannister.", and the laughter died down. A silence roared in the room. 

As they walked across the room to find their places near the little dove and her bastard's brother, she could feel the look of the people on them. The same judging look they had each time Jaime and her stepped out of their bedchamber, but oh, she couldn't care less about what they thought of them, or the jokes they could make. She held her head high, and once they had made their way to the table, Jaime pulled the chair for her. She sat down, and Jaime settled by her side. A servant came to pour some ale in their cups. Slowly, the laughter and conversations resumed around them. 

"Kingkiller!" Tormund Giantsbane exclaimed as he made his way toward them, a horn full of alcohol in his hand. The tall red haired man slapped Jaime's shoulder and stood between them. "You fought well."

"I suppose I did," Jaime replied.

"You did," the man affirmed before his eyes landed on Joanna. He stared at the little bundle between her arms, studying her little features. 

Cersei noticed the slight clench of her brother's jaw at the attention the wilding was giving to their daughter, but the relaxed look she gave him allowed his features to soften. The man was harmless, and drunk.

He eventually looked back at Jaime. "She looks like you."

"She is my daughter," Jaime stated dryly.

"And I'll drink to her health," he said, and drunk a large sip of ale out of his horn.

"Come on Tormund, leave them alone," Jon Snow said as he showed up behind his friend, his somber face eclipsed by a tipsy grin on his lips.

At the command, the wilding turned around to face Ned Stark's bastard. "I'm drinking for the health of the little Princess." He whipped his head around, looking down at Cersei with an eyebrow raised. "She is a Princess?"

"She is," Cersei confirmed with a smile.

"See," Tormund said to his friend, and he wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "A little Princess born at the end of the war, a miracle."

"Aye, let's get you some more ale to celebrate," Jon Snow declared, and they began to move away.

"Do you think the big woman would celebrate with me?" Cersei heard the wilding ask, but they were too far away from them to hear Jon Snow's answer.

By her side, Jaime sighed, obviously annoyed by the man, and his good hand reached for his cup of ale. Cersei watched her brother swallow a small sip, his face contorting from annoyance to disgust. "I hate ale," he said as he slammed his drink back on the table.

"More like you hate the man," Cersei told him.

"I didn't like the way he looked at Joanna."

"Oh my love, he is harmless. And with you by her side, Joanna is safe." 

Jaime hummed, and Cersei leaned closer to capture his lips into a kiss. Jaime replied to her kiss eagerly, and she tasted the bitterness of the ale on his tongue. Whey eventually broke apart, the tension in his muscles had loosened, but she knew her brother was ready to bounce on anyone who would dare to touch or look at Joanna in the wrong way.

The feast was in full swing and they were oozing with happiness when Sansa Stark appeared in front of them, hands clutched behind her back, her piercing blue eyes shining while a forced smile danced on her lips. "Are you enjoying the feast?" she asked.

"We are," Cersei replied.

"Good." A silence settled between the two women, holding each other's gaze, until eventually the little dove spoke again, "You're welcome to stay as long as you're healing." Cersei gave her a slight nod. "And maybe before your departure, we could come to an agreement."

"We could," Cersei agreed.

Sansa's smile grew wider, genuine, and she left to speak to someone else.

"What was that?" Jaime wondered, frowning.

"I know what she wants."

The North. Sansa wanted the North, and maybe Cersei could give it to her. Avoid another war, avoid another bloodshed between their families, and proclaim peace in the Realm. For Joanna.

"Beloved siblings," a voice claimed, which belonged to no one else but to their little brother. Tyrion pulled a chair nearby, and sat facing them.

"Where were you?" Cersei asked.

"Ah, seeing the wonder this world has to offer." She rolled her eyes while their brother grabbed a carafe to pour some alcohol in a cup. "You should try it sometimes."

Cersei eyed at Jaime, and then Joanna. "I have all the wonder I could ask for."

"Of course, you do," Tyrion whispered. "How is my niece?"

"Quiet for her first feast," she replied.

"The first of many ones," their brother cheered, raising his cup, and Jaime raised his cup too.

"To the first of many," he said. "And to her birth."

"To her birth," Tyrion repeated, and the three of them drank a large sip of ale in honor of Joanna's birth. 

They enjoyed the rest of the evening. Reminiscing old childhood memories, they ate, and laughed, and drank, and introduced their daughter to whoever asked until Joanna began to fuss, begging for Cersei's breast, and they knew it was time for them to retire to their bedchamber.

When Cersei put their little girl in her cot, her cries intensified. "Shh, my little love, it's coming," she shushed.

From behind, Jaime's hand was already pulling the laces of her gown. Her brother helped her to get rid of the crimson, velvet fabric, leaving her only with a thin shift and her smallclothes. She whirled around to face him, and kissed him. A chaste kiss as her hands found the laces of his jacket, and she helped him to peel it off his shoulders. The black leather cloth was thrown in the middle of the room. When they broke apart, they shared a look, and Jaime went to sit down over the edge of the bed while she followed him. She crouched between his legs, and helped him to take off his boots. A dance they had danced a hundred, a thousand of times. 

Once she had been done, she rose up on her feet and moved toward Joanna's cot to take her wailing cub in her arms. Gently rocking Joanna back and forth to appease her, Cersei circled around the bed. "I know, I know," she whispered to her daughter. 

She sat on the bed, and laid their little girl next to Jaime who was already resting on his side. While her brother whispered sweet nothing to lull Joanna's roars away, she untied the lace holding her shift together. The fabric fell around the softness of her belly, and she settled down on the mattress, facing her twin. She pulled Joanna closer, offering her breast. Quick, Joanna's mouth found her mother's nipple, and she latched on her breast, suckling vigorously, her sobs long gone.

Cersei's eyes drifted from their cub to her brother. The soft lines were creaking with happiness around his eyes as he watched Joanna having her own feast. Everytime she was feeding their daughter, Jaime always watched them in awe, as if he was fascinated by the power of such an intimate moment between a mother and her child. And maybe he was. After all, he had never really witnessed her feeding Joffrey, Myrcella or Tommen. He had kept a certain distance between him and their eldest children, for the sake of their lives. Yet, that reluctant gap between them had only caused sorrow, grief and tears. If Jaime had been a father to their children, if they had been able to live the life they dreamed, they would still be alive, she had no doubt about that.

A tear pearled at the thought of their children, their precious babies, and how their lives had been doomed to a cruel fate long before their births. But Joanna… Joanna was different. The witch had never mentioned a fourth child and yet, here she was. Already full of life, with Jaime doting on her as a loving father would. The news of her pregnancy had been a surprise and gave her some hope yet, she had also dreamed of sheets soaked with blood, haunted by the fear she would lose the child during the first few moons. But when she had felt that first kick in her belly months ago, vigorous and eager to live, her hope had grown stronger a bit more every day, and as her belly quickened, she had found the faith to believe she would hear her cub's first scream. 

Joanna's first cry had been a soft, vivid melody to her ears, soothing all of her fears, and now, she could witness Jaime becoming a father. Jaime who had Joanna's tiny fist wrapped around his big, calloused finger and who was watching them with so much love in his eyes. A flawless moment that could have happened only in her wildest fantasies a few years ago, but now, her fantasies were a reality. 

Overwhelmed, the tears escaped down her cheeks before she could even bite them back, and Jaime lifted his gaze to look at her. "What's wrong?" he questioned, a frown damaging his perfect features.

"It's perfect," she whispered. "You, me, Joanna."

Jaime's features softened, and a soft smile spread across his face. "I know," he said. "I could stay in this room and watch you feed her for the rest of my life."

"We'll have to leave at some point," Cersei reminded him.

"We will, and we'll return home and get married, and you are going to rule and teach her how to become a queen…"

"And you'll teach her how to hold a sword."

"I will. She is going to be a fearless little lioness." Jaime's smile widened. "I can already picture her running around the Red Keep and playing tricks to the maids."

A smile bloomed on Cersei's lips at the pretty picture Jaime was painting. "She's going to be the happiest cub."

"Oh, she will." He paused, a serious expression painted on his face now. "Daenerys Targaryen is dead. The North wants its independence, but their soldiers are too exhausted to fight another war. As for Euron Greyjoy, he will meet the steel of my blade before he can touch you or Joanna. We are safe now."

"For how long?" she found herself asking, worrying their little bubble of happiness would be bursted one way or another. 

"For as long as I'm alive. And if anyone tries to tear us apart again they will be treated without mercy, I promise." 

Cersei hummed. His words were comforting, soothing, his promise lulling away the fear something would happen to their little family, and she allowed herself to bask once again in the euphoria of this moment.