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Jaime didn’t sleep much after his mother died. He could always sense it when Cersei woke from a nightmare, and she’d been having nightmares almost every night since that awful day when they’d lost a mother and gained a brother that neither of them wanted. It wasn’t a fair trade, and Jaime knew Cersei hated it. So every night he felt that familiar tug, he’d slip out of his bedroom and pad down the corridor on silent feet, avoiding the eyes of all the Lannister portraits on the walls. Some of them were likenesses of Joanna, and Jaime remembered how she’d felt about Jaime and Cersei spending all their time together.
Cersei was sitting up in bed when he slipped into her room, her face streaked with tears.
“Jaime,” she gasped, “I dreamt that Tyrion was a monster and he was eating me!”
Jaime climbed up onto her bed and hugged her. “It’s all right,” he soothed, trying to sound as grown up as Father, “You’re all right.” He could feel Cersei’s body shaking as she sobbed.
“Tyrion killed Mother,” Cersei said fearfully between sobs. “What if he kills us as well?”
“He won’t,” Jaime said, trying to sound as brave as the Dragonknight. “Nothing will. I’ll protect you.”
Cersei pulled back to look at him. “When I’m queen-”
“I’ll be your knight,” Jaime said firmly, his spirits lifting at the thought. “I’ll be the greatest knight in Westeros.”
He could feel Cersei’s spirits lifting too. She leaned forward and hugged him fiercely. “Someday we’ll rule Westeros together,” she whispered. “Promise me. Swear it.”
“I promise,” Jaime whispered back, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. “I’ll never leave you and I’ll always protect you. I swear it on my sword hand.”
She drifted to sleep in his arms, and Jaime’s last thought before he fell asleep was of a future spent entirely by the side of his other half.