They lie together in the warm afterglow, Cersei’s golden head resting just below Ned’s chest, the furs and linens of the bed crumpled beneath their bodies- Ned hates to sleep under the furs- “too warm down here,” he always says-, and he likes to couple beneath them even less. He skims his calloused fingers over the softness of her shoulder before winding them in her curls, and his voice is soft when she feels the rumble beneath her head-
“I’ve been thinking about your brother.”
A jolt of panic hits Cersei’s stomach, but she forces herself to remain calm, only tilting her chin up to look at her husband’s face. “How so, my- Ned?”
“I’d like to offer him a release from the Kingsguard.” He shifts a bit beneath her, and his discomfort is apparent. But he continues- “He originally joined under duress- he was just a boy, and Aerys Targaryen was a vindictive madman with a score to settle with your father. If he wishes, I would be happy to restore his position as heir to Casterly Rock and find him a wife of appropriate birth.”
And she cannot help it- Cersei splays her hand on Ned’s chest and pushes herself upright, green eyes flashing with pique- “You’re dismissing my brother from your guard?”
“That is not what I said, Cersei.” He looks at her and matches her temper with nothing but patience. “It is merely an idea, a courtesy that I wish to extend to my kinsman.” A pause, and then, “Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to him. It may seem less...confrontational coming from his dear sister.”
For a brief moment, Cersei wishes to scream and rage and slap her palm across Ned’s earnest face, taking care to dig her nails into the skin of his cheek. But when she searches his eyes, looking for suspicion or jealousy or accusation, she finds nothing.
When Lord Tywin had announced her betrothal, her Uncle Kevan embraced her and offered congratulations. Before parting, he’d said: “He’s a good man. An honorable man...a man who cannot conceive of dishonor in anyone he loves.” And then he’d looked at her with those sharp green eyes- Gods, how she hates the way Uncle Kevan looks at her- “That may well be his downfall in the end.”
She feels a squelch of something creeping into her insides- maybe shame? For she has not been able to give up Jaime, has not been able to keep away from the little chamber where they meet. In the early days of her marriage, she’d found it easy to justify- why should I give this up for a man I hardly know? It’s all that makes me feel complete, and I will not let it go...
But here is Ned’s hand stroking her face, Ned’s eyes, free of condemnation...this good man, this good king who grants mercy to the children of his enemies, who allows her to sit at his side as his equal-
He cannot conceive of dishonor in anyone he loves...and he wants to love me...
The passing silence tears the material within her- I won’t give it up, I won’t...but what a fool I would be, to squander this chance, the chance to be a lion in my own right...
She does not know whether the words are true, but she whispers them all the same-
“I will speak to him.”
Ned captures her mouth with his, and when she feels him smile against her lips, Cersei knows not whether to laugh or cry.
Cersei/Ned; Rebellion outcome; "The Lion Queen"; PG-13 (Part Five)
“I’ve been thinking about your brother.”
A jolt of panic hits Cersei’s stomach, but she forces herself to remain calm, only tilting her chin up to look at her husband’s face. “How so, my- Ned?”
“I’d like to offer him a release from the Kingsguard.” He shifts a bit beneath her, and his discomfort is apparent. But he continues- “He originally joined under duress- he was just a boy, and Aerys Targaryen was a vindictive madman with a score to settle with your father. If he wishes, I would be happy to restore his position as heir to Casterly Rock and find him a wife of appropriate birth.”
And she cannot help it- Cersei splays her hand on Ned’s chest and pushes herself upright, green eyes flashing with pique- “You’re dismissing my brother from your guard?”
“That is not what I said, Cersei.” He looks at her and matches her temper with nothing but patience. “It is merely an idea, a courtesy that I wish to extend to my kinsman.” A pause, and then, “Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to him. It may seem less...confrontational coming from his dear sister.”
For a brief moment, Cersei wishes to scream and rage and slap her palm across Ned’s earnest face, taking care to dig her nails into the skin of his cheek. But when she searches his eyes, looking for suspicion or jealousy or accusation, she finds nothing.
When Lord Tywin had announced her betrothal, her Uncle Kevan embraced her and offered congratulations. Before parting, he’d said: “He’s a good man. An honorable man...a man who cannot conceive of dishonor in anyone he loves.” And then he’d looked at her with those sharp green eyes- Gods, how she hates the way Uncle Kevan looks at her- “That may well be his downfall in the end.”
She feels a squelch of something creeping into her insides- maybe shame? For she has not been able to give up Jaime, has not been able to keep away from the little chamber where they meet. In the early days of her marriage, she’d found it easy to justify- why should I give this up for a man I hardly know? It’s all that makes me feel complete, and I will not let it go...
But here is Ned’s hand stroking her face, Ned’s eyes, free of condemnation...this good man, this good king who grants mercy to the children of his enemies, who allows her to sit at his side as his equal-
He cannot conceive of dishonor in anyone he loves...and he wants to love me...
The passing silence tears the material within her- I won’t give it up, I won’t...but what a fool I would be, to squander this chance, the chance to be a lion in my own right...
She does not know whether the words are true, but she whispers them all the same-
“I will speak to him.”
Ned captures her mouth with his, and when she feels him smile against her lips, Cersei knows not whether to laugh or cry.