Chapter Text
King’s Landing had always felt like such a stark contrast from the Rock to Jaime. The sunlight was harsher, the air more polluted, and the city kept time by its own relentless drum. Still, doors opened here that would never budge at home. The first week blurred into half-unpacked boxes and takeout cartons, the old house on the hill settling around them while the night winds pushed in a breath of Blackwater that almost felt clean.
Despite the city’s misgivings, Jaime seemed lighter here. It was in the way he kissed her before leaving for work, in the easy curve of his smile when she teased him about not coming home too late. He was content like this. His relief was written in the way he slept beside her, deep and untroubled.
Cersei had slipped back into her own rhythms. The office was hers again, the staff deferential but curious, the building alive with the clack of keyboards and the rings and buzzes of nonstop telephones.
Joffrey worked there a few days a week, but “worked” was generous. He pushed papers and occasionally distributed mail, more enamored with the idea of being part of the company than the work itself. Myrcella was thriving in her final year of school, though she was gone more often now, claiming exams and late projects. Cersei didn’t question it; her daughter was nearly grown and soon she would be picking which university she would be off to next year. Tommen continued to be Tommen, all round cheeks, too-long hair, and a knack for saying the wrong thing in the most endearing way.
It had been a little over a month since Erena’s suicide attempt. A month since Jaime had sat by her bedside in the hospital, a month since he had arranged for the best care money could buy. He hadn’t worried much afterward, trusting Arianne Martell to see to her. He had expected he might hear something once Erena was released, but he had hoped the hospital would keep her for a long while, long enough for her to recover, to settle into a routine, to disappear happily back into her own life.
His worries about Cersei finding out had faded once he made the decision not to tell her. Perhaps one day, but not now. Not while she was pregnant. What purpose would it serve, except to distress her? He told himself there was nothing useful in her knowing, no good to be gained from dredging up that day. So he had buried it, firmly.
Cersei dressed carefully for lunch that day, choosing a loose black blouse with a sweater that hung just so. Without it, the faintest curve of her stomach might give her away if someone looked hard enough. She wasn’t ready for that yet. They weren’t ready for that yet. While the children were still grieving their father and adjusting to Jaime’s place in their new home, this wasn’t the time to reveal her pregnancy. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to hide it, but for now, it was just theirs, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
She was grateful that winter was coming, that heavier clothes made the secret easier to carry. Still, she found herself increasingly aware of the changes in her body, far more than she ever had with her previous pregnancies. Concealing those unwanted shifts held her back from being as open with Jaime as she wanted to be. She knew he worshipped every part of her, yet she still caught herself bristling with self-consciousness. It wasn’t like her. She was never that kind of woman. Why start now?
In the restroom off the main lobby of Jaime's office building, she tugged at her hem until the knit fell clean, refreshed her lipstick, and smoothed her hair. She wanted to look like herself before she stepped into his office, to feel like herself when he looked back at her.
Lunch had been her idea, a small surprise in the middle of his day and, if she was honest, an excuse to step out of hers. Stannis Baratheon had parked himself in the conference room adjacent to her office, draining the air with questions that circled the same point.
Slipping her compact back into her bag, she squared her shoulders and pushed through the doors to head towards to the elevators. The ride up was smooth and quick, her reflection faint against the mirrored panel. She caught herself smiling, soft, anticipatory, as if she were still a girl sneaking off to meet him instead of a woman who was building a life with him.
By the time she reached his floor, her pulse was steady again. She crossed the carpeted hallway with the quiet certainty of someone who belonged there. The receptionist wouldn’t stop her, she never did. A timid girl, hardly older than Myrcella, one of those local university hires brought in for presence more than aptitude. Cersei had never bothered to learn her name. Each time she passed, the girl managed only a nervous smile before ducking her head, as if afraid to meet her gaze. It was almost pitiful, really.
Cersei allowed herself a cool glance in passing before curling her hand around the handle of his office door and letting herself in.
Jaime looked up at once. He was behind his desk, sleeves rolled to the elbow, golden hair catching the sunlight that poured through the tall window. The sight of him like that steadied her for a heartbeat. This was what they had fought for, what they had never dared to imagine and yet had made real.
But the moment shattered as a scent struck her like a blow. Familiar. Intrusive. Not hers.
Erena.
She sat across from him with flawless composure, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her expression lifted at the interruption, polite and polished, a mask of unreadable calm.
Cersei froze in the doorway, heat rushing through her chest. Her surprise suddenly felt ridiculous. Her lips parted, the words escaping before she could temper them. “What is she doing here?”
Jaime’s whole body jolted at the sound of her voice. His chair scraped harshly against the floor as he lurched to his feet, the shock on his face mirroring her own. “Cersei-”
He was already moving, crossing the space between them in long strides. His hand brushed her arm as he reached the doorway, as if he could both ground her and block her path in the same motion. His voice lowered, meant only for her. “Not here, not now. Please. Trust me.”
Cersei’s eyes snapped to his, sharp and demanding. “In your office, with the door shut, really?” Her voice cracked with restrained fury. “What is this!?”
“Cersei.” He tried again, soft but firm, his jaw tight. He was keeping the peace, she could hear it in every careful syllable as if she were the danger in the room, not the woman still sitting smugly in her chair.
Cersei’s stomach twisted. All she saw was betrayal: Jaime, hers, shut in alone with someone he used to fuck, looking like they belonged together there.
She jerked her arm free of his touch and stepped past him, her glare locked on Erena. “Answer me.”
Erena rose gracefully, smoothing the fabric of her skirt as if she’d been expecting this moment all along. She kept her posture demure, her chin dipped just slightly, her expression serene. Yet beneath that veneer, Cersei could see it, the faint flicker in her eyes, the satisfaction at having rattled her. She might be able to fool Jaime, but she would never beat Cersei at this game.
“Mrs. Baratheon,” Erena said, her voice soft, even apologetic. “Forgive me if I’ve upset you. It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”
Cersei narrowed her eyes, every muscle tight. She heard the words but didn’t believe them for a second.
“I stopped in uninvited,” Erena continued, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “But I had to thank Jaime, in person. He saved my life that night.” She glanced at him then, the faintest smile tugging her lips, careful, reverent. “I couldn’t let that go without gratitude.”
The words landed like shards. Cersei’s breath caught, her eyes cutting from Erena to Jaime, searching his face for explanation. “Saved your life?” she said, her voice sharp, incredulous. “What is she talking about?”
Erena’s gaze lingered on Jaime for a beat too long, her poise unshaken even under Cersei’s sharp demand. “I only meant to thank him,” she said, her voice measured, sweetened with humility that didn’t ring true. “That night, if he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be standing here now.”
She let the words hang, savoring the silence they created. Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, she lowered her lashes and added softly, “He never told you?”
Cersei’s breath caught, fury tightening her chest. Her eyes cut to Jaime, searching for an explanation. “No,” she said, her tone clipped, dangerous. “He didn’t.”
Erena inclined her head slightly, demure, but the faintest flicker of satisfaction passed over her features. To her, it was confirmation. Confirmation that Jaime had kept this from Cersei, that their bond wasn’t as unbreakable as they wanted the world to believe. She could twist it into something else, something that let her believe there was still a thread between them, however frayed.
“Then forgive me,” she murmured, the words dipped in silk. “I just assumed you were aware.”
“Enough.” Jaime’s voice cut sharp across the room, leaving no space for her to keep going. He stepped forward, placing himself firmly between the two women, his hand tightening on Cersei’s arm as if to hold her steady. His golden hair caught once again in the light, but there was no softness in him now. His eyes pinned Erena with a look that was all warning. “This conversation is over.”
Cersei’s heart hammered, her fury hot, searching Jaime’s face for answers. Her voice came low and dangerous. “What haven’t you told me?”
Jaime turned to her quickly, his hand sliding down her arm in a bid to anchor not only her, but himself. His voice softened, urgent, pleading for her to hear only him. “Later,” he said. “Not like this.”
But later was never good enough for Cersei.
“I don’t want later,” Cersei snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through the air between them. Her eyes burned into Jaime’s, demanding, relentless. “I want to know now.”
Jaime’s jaw clenched, but before he could stop her, Erena spoke.
“I was at the Rock,” she said softly, almost reverently. “My home, well, my former home now. It was so difficult, you see. Surrounded by my things. The life I had there.” Her gaze flicked to Cersei, then lingered, a ghost of satisfaction touching her lips. “The scent of him still clung to the rooms, you must know what I mean. The photographs, our photographs. The bed. Every corner was steeped in what we had been. It overwhelmed me.”
Cersei bit tightly at her jaw. She knew exactly what this woman was doing. And unfortunately, for her, it was working.
Erena’s eyes softened, falsely humble. “And so I sinned. I couldn’t bear it, the weight of it all. The water ran red, and my body...weak, bare, broken.” She exhaled delicately, like a penitent whisper. “And then there he was. Jaime. Pulling me from the tub, holding me in his arms, saving me when I had no will left to save myself.”
The image slammed into Cersei, brutal and visceral. Jaime’s arms around that woman, her naked body pressed to his chest. At Casterly Rock. In the place that should have been hers, the seat of her bloodline, the home she had never been allowed to claim. The jealousy burned hot and poisonous, stinging sharper than betrayal.
Erena’s eyes flickered with quiet triumph, a flicker she tried to mask but couldn’t hide fast enough. It was there, a glimmer of satisfaction at the way Cersei reeled, as though Jaime’s silence proved something, that some bond still between them.
Jaime’s hand clamped around Cersei’s wrist, his touch urgent, almost pleading. “Cersei-” His voice cracked with desperation. “Let’s go. Now.”
He pulled her toward him, but the words didn’t register. All she saw was red. The fury, the humiliation, the sting of betrayal.
“Get out!” Jaime’s voice broke across the room like thunder. His command was absolute, his fury turned not on Cersei but squarely on the woman who had pushed too far. “We’re done here.”
For the first time, Erena faltered. She rose with composure, but her calm had hardened into something brittle. She gathered her purse with measured grace, her gaze sliding once more to Cersei, a final look, cool and cutting, meant to linger like perfume after she left.
Cersei caught it, and it only deepened the blaze in her chest.
The door clicked shut behind Erena, and silence crashed in her wake. Cersei stood rigid, her breath hot in her throat.
“Come with me,” Jaime said quickly, his hand brushing her arm, his voice pitched low but urgent. “Not here. We can’t do this here.”
“I don’t want to have this discussion anywhere else,” she snapped, twisting free. Her voice rang sharp against the walls. “You let her sit in front of me, in your office, but I must leave?”
Jaime’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. He forced himself to stay steady. “Then tell me this, are you even able to listen to me right now? To trust me?”
Her eyes burned. “Yes, let's talk about trust, Jaime. Do you want to tell me why you didn't tell me when you found that wretched little gold digger supposedly clinging to life in your home?”
His expression tightened, but he didn’t back away from her fury. “Because it wasn’t about her. It was about you.”
Cersei’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “About me?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer, crowding the space between them so she couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “You had just fainted in my arms. You were pale and weak, and terrified me more than I’ll admit. And I thought- gods, Cersei, I thought if I told you about her, about what I walked into at the Rock, it would break something else in you. I wasn’t going to risk that. Not with you. Not with our child.”
Her nostrils flared. “So you protected me by letting her sit in our father’s house, bleeding all over and hoping someone would find her and feel sorry for her? By keeping secrets?”
He met her words with steel, his voice cutting but steady. “I didn’t let her do anything. I went to close out father’s estate, nothing more. Addam swore she was gone. But she was there. Weak and half-dead. What would you have had me do? Leave her? Let her drown in her own blood?”
“You could have told me,” she shot back.
“I could have,” Jaime said, his voice rising just enough to meet her fire. “But you had just been in a hospital bed yourself. I made a choice to protect you from something that wasn’t ours to carry. That’s all it was. If you want me to say I'm sorry or that I regret it, I won't.”
Her chest heaved, torn between rage and the sting of betrayal. The words clashed inside her, logic and jealousy fighting like beasts.
“Protect me,” she echoed, venom soft in her throat. “Or protect yourself?”
Jaime’s gaze didn’t waver. “Both,” he admitted, raw. “Because you’re everything I have. And I won’t let her, or anyone, poison that.”
Her breath came harder, ragged, but the fire in her eyes dulled just enough for words instead of fury. She looked at him through narrowed lashes. “Why she was here today?”
Jaime exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “She came unexpectedly. She said she wanted to thank me-”
Cersei barked a laugh, bitter and sharp. “Thank you? That’s what you believe? That she dragged herself all the way from wherever the fuck she is from to say thank you?”
He steadied himself against her scorn, his voice firm. “She wanted to show me she’s doing better. That she’s stable.”
Cersei’s laugh deepened into something darker, laced with venom. “Stable. Gods, Jaime, she’s playing you like a harp, and you can't even see it.”
“I’m not as stupid as you think,” he shot back, meeting her derision without flinching. His eyes locked to hers, unwavering. “I know what she’s doing. But I’m not going to reject her outright either. Not when we need her to go away quietly.”
Her brow furrowed, suspicion burning beneath the sarcasm.
“She still lied for me, Cersei,” he reminded her, his voice lower now, steady, measured. “She gave me an alibi when I needed it. That matters. And until this is all behind us, everything with Robert, we have to play our cards right.”
For a long beat, silence hung between them, her fury simmering, his resolve iron-hard.
Her eyes narrowed at his words, but before she could spit another retort, Jaime moved. He stepped closer, closing the space between them until her back nearly brushed the door. His hand came to her jaw, firm but gentle, tipping her face to his.
“Hey,” he said, low and steady, “look at me.”
She tried to glare past him, but his eyes caught hers, fierce and unyielding. “Cersei, stop...”
Her chest rose sharply, anger still sparking through her veins. “She’s toying with you. The audacity to even think-”
“She’s not half as clever as she believes,” he cut in, quiet but certain. His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, grounding her even as it made her bristle.
Her laugh came brittle, sharp with jealousy. “Neither are you…”
His hand slid to the back of her neck, his forehead pressing to hers. His voice dropped, teasing, warm against her lips. “Dare I say I like you jealous.”
Her breath caught despite herself, the edges of her fury blunting under his closeness. “Shut up,” she whispered, though her eyes lingered on him with heat.
But then she pulled back just enough to keep him in focus, her voice low, cold. “Don’t make this some harmless, trivial thing when it isn’t. You should have told me, Jaime.”
He stilled, reading the steel beneath her words.
“You’re not the only one who can protect this family,” she went on, her tone clipped, precise. “I can look out for you in just the same way.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t let go of her. “I know you can, and you do. But I wasn’t going to risk it. I just want her to disappear and leave us be.”
She studied him, the jealousy still burning in her chest, but layered now with something heavier, hurt that he had shut her out. “Don't-,” she said, her voice like glass, “don’t do it again.”
Jaime’s hand slid down her arm, clasping her fingers in his. “Never.”