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After Life

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Cersei Lannister shows up on Tarth, one month after Brienne’s own return home. Brienne is walking along the sea wall, and the glint of golden hair in the sunshine catches her eye. She thinks, It’s him, for a moment; before she remembers that is impossible. She knows it to be so because Jaime Lannister is dead, yet some part deep inside of her forgets, or refuses to remember.

It is just some merchant. She reminds herself.

Then the figure turns its head and Brienne is struck by those brilliant green eyes: greener than emeralds, greener than grass or leaves, or anything in nature has a right to be. Those eyes meet hers and Brienne sees a cruel smile flash across the face of the only other person in the seven kingdoms with those eyes and that hair. Cersei makes a little curtsey in Brienne’s direction, making it obvious has seen her and impossible for Brienne to pretend she has not.

Brienne carefully descends to the harbor, attempting not to walk too fast or too slow.

Why is Cersei here? Even on this island, the news about Cersei fleeing KIng’s Landing has spread, but why isn't she on a ship taking her far away from the wrath of the new dragon queen? Why come here?

When she reaches her, Brienne has no idea what to say. She bears no love for this woman, yet it would be unchivalrous to rejoice in anyone having lost everything so completely.

Brienne has heard that they had cut Cersei’s beautiful curls, but she is not prepared for the effect. The mane growing back frames her face, like she is the sun itself, and Brienne is ashamed that her resentment has nothing to do with the woman’s crimes… well perhaps one, but not even that one for the right reasons.

I envied her. Brienne confesses to herself. But there is no more reason to. It wasn’t her beauty itself that I envied. She considers. That which I envied her is as lost to both of us as everything else she once had.

“Your… I mean L-”

“There’s not need to be formal, girl. I think we are way past that, you and I.” To hear her, one would think she was still queen.

“Very well then.” Brienne can be blunt easily enough, “What are you doing here? It is not as if you and I have ever been friends?”

This seems to amuse Cersei. She almost looks as though she might laugh.
“I am sure you must despise me with all your pious little heart, just as much as your hideousness repulses me. Fortunately, it is that piety and that heart which I am counting on. Surely you will not refuse us sanctuary… for HIS sake.”

Brienne suddenly realizes that there is a hooded figure standing beside Cersei. He pulls back his hood and it is a boy whose looks leave no question as to who he is: Tommen. Her son. HIS son.

Brienne tries to mask her surprise with words, “Is that why you have come then?”

“Why else? Where would anyone be less likely to look for me that with the Kingslayer’s whore?”

Brienne feels her whole face flush red, despite her best efforts.

“I wasn’t… I mean…”

Cersei smiles, a smirk that cuts like castle steel, “I know that, of course. I mean the very idea is… ridiculous. But I am not the one who needs to believe it, am I?”

“My father…” Brienne stammers, wishing this was a competition she could win with her sword.

“Never needs to know. Tell him I’m the natural born daughter of some nobody lord in the Westerlands: You saved me heroically during the war and now I have come to be your lady’s maid.”

“My lady’s maid?” Brienne scoffs incredulously. The idea is too absurd.

“I’m actually quite skilled at removing and replacing armor, you know.” Cersei smiles coyly.

Brienne wants to strike Cersei, but she knows that it would be petty and unjust. She has to act rightly, even if others do not.

“Fine. You can stay, but if you try anything out of line I WILL turn you over to the queen and let her feed you to her dragons.”

“You are as gallant as you are beautiful, my lady.” Cersei replies with grace but not sincerity.

Brienne looks down at Tommen, who is almost as tall as his father now.

“And I am going to train him personally.” She decides, “He can be my squire.”

Thinking of poor Pod makes Brienne want to weep, but she suppresses it.

“I see. Well he is more of an age for…”

Brienne cut her off, “He will be my squire, and if he is more like his father than you he might even be my heir someday. His father would have wanted him to be a knight.”

Cersei smiles demurely, which only annoys Brienne more.

______________________________________________________________________

Cersei decides to help Brienne out of her armor ironically, but it backfires.

Brienne will never be a beautiful woman, but there is something about her. The way her body is hardened, muscled, oversized, strong, the way that it is almost like a man’s it turned out peaks Cersei’s interest.

The first time it happens, Cersei can’t believe it. She can’t be fantasizing about what it would be like to caress those muscular shoulders or be held in those brawny arms. Brienne is hideous, ungainly, grotesque; Cersei has only ever lusted after was was beautiful.

Cersei finds herself coming up with excuses to touch Brienne. She takes longer than necessary getting Brienne ready, her fingers linger at the base of the other woman’s neck as she braids her hair. Brienne, of course, curses her for being slow and stiffens if Cersei runs her fingers across Brienne’s skin too obviously.

“Is there a problem?” Brienne raises her eyebrows querulously, causing Cersei to realize that her hands have paused a little too long on one spot of Brienne’s skin.

“Let me get you some ointment for this bruise.” Cersei evades, her mouth coming up with excuses to continue touching the other woman before she’s even realized what she’s doing.

Brienne sighs exasperatedly. She hates being coddled. It makes her uncomfortable.

The resentment in Brienne’s eyes only seems to attract Cersei more, as she imagines Brienne grabbing her violently, crushing her mouth with those oversized lips, manhandling her.

Brienne never will though. Cersei amuses herself by imagining Brienne’s shocked and horrified reaction to Cersei attempting to seduce her, outraged and embarrassed.

The problem is that the more Cersei thinks about what it would be like, the more she lusts after the woman.

Did this happen to you too, Jaime? I swore it was impossible that you ever looked at the creature twice, but maybe I was wrong.

In her bed at night she tries to bring Jaime’s face up from memory as she touches herself, but instead it is Brienne she sees, her sweaty muscular flesh exposed. Cersei stifles a moan, fingering herself and playing with one breast with her other hand, as she imagines what Brienne’s sword worn hands would feel like on her skin, how those rough fingers would feel inside of Cersei’s cunt… It doesn’t take her any time at all to finish, once Cersei gives in to fantasizing about Brienne.

______________________________________________________________________

Brienne has almost gotten used to Cersei on Tarth. There are days when it almost feels natural, but then Brienne will see Cersei in a certain light, or the woman will make some snide comment and Brienne will be reminded of who she really is.

True to her word, Cersei actually acts the part of a lady’s maid: dressing and undressing Brienne, drawing her baths, braiding her hair.

Brienne has to admit to herself that she resents these attentions; because, there is a cruel irony to them. Cersei is the beauty intended to be waited upon and Brienne feels ungainly and embarrassed to be bared to her in all of her lack of feminine charm.

“Is the water hot enough, milady.” Cersei asks with false cheer. Today is apparently one of those days when she is going to be frustratingly exact in playing the role of doting handmaiden. Brienne knows it angered Cersei when Brienne criticized the temperature of her bath water last week, but it turns out that is actually the best part of this whole arrangement: discovering ways at striking back at her.

Brienne has never understood the appeal in feminine modes of underhanded power struggles before, but then again she’s never had power in one before. She knows it is ignoble to enjoy such things, but Brienne finds that when it comes to Cersei it is difficult to resist.

Determined not to be drawn into another round of pettiness, Brienne closes her eyes, lying back in the tub and trying to pretend Cersei out of existence.

Then she feels Cersei’s hands on her. Cersei has developed a habit of touching Brienne more often than is strictly necessary, part of her side of the subterranean war the two of them are engaged it. This is the first time she’s interfered with Brienne’s bath though. It starts with her hair; Brienne is startled, but no one has washed her hair since she was a little girl and it feels so nice that she can’t bring herself to tell Cersei to stop.

Just when she has almost forgotten whose hands are skillfully massaging her scalp, Cersei has to begin talking, “Jaime always loved doing this for me.” She states, hands still moving gracefully.
Brienne isn’t sure if this is a boast or a confession, so she refuses to respond.

“You must think about it.” Cersei continues, “What it would have been like to be his lover… exactly how he would be…”

Brienne keeps her mouth resolutely shut.

“I could show you, you know. I would let you feel how he touched, the way her kissed, all kinds of the wonderful things he could do to a woman’s body,”

Despite herself, Brienne finds she is reacting to the idea of what Cersei is suggesting. Of course she’s thought about it. She is only human and at some point along the line she lost the ability to even imagine a lover whose hair was black instead of golden.

“Just say the word.” Cersei whispers in her ear, long elegant fingers tracing Brienne’s neck, “Admit that you want that and you can have it.”

Brienne bites her lip to keep from crying out yes.

“Of course, I could just tell you, if you don’t think you can handle it. I can just describe the sensation of his hot breath against my skin, the way his hands…”

Brienne knows it is a trap, but she is long past caring. Cersei already knows and she is only going to make Brienne more miserable for refusing to play her game.

“Fine. Since it is obviously the only way to shut your mouth.” Brienne snaps, trying to maintain some shred of pride.

“As the lady wishes.” Cersei smiles victoriously.

And then her hands start moving and her lips caress a place at the base of Brienne’s throat that feels so strongly she has to dig her fingernails into the palms of her hand to keep silent.

“Of course, I had something to hold.” Cersei criticizes as her hands curve around to cup Brienne’s almost non existent breasts. She pushes them up slightly so that the cold air hits their peaks, making Brienne realize they are stiff and aching. As if reading her mind, Cersei’s thumbs slide over them, feeling tortuous and divine all at the same time.

At the same time, her mouth is all over Brienne’s neck and chest, light gentle kisses, punctuated by longer ones that linger. One of Cersei’s hands slides lower, grazing Brienne’s battle hardened stomach and legs.

“Jaime could never get enough of touching me. I used to grow impatient with him making me wait for his cock.” As she said this, Cersei slid her hand between Brienne’s legs, running a finger along her opening. Brienne gasped, “Have a shocked you, Maid of Tarth? Yes I said cock. It was a glorious one. Honestly, it is the only cock I have ever enjoyed.”

Brienne remembers Jaime, half corpse and half god, in the bathing tubs at Harrenhal.

Her skin is sensitive, reactive even to the water surrounding it; Brienne bites her lip as Cersei’s thumb begins to rub gentle circles, closing her eyes and letting herself pretend it is Jaime even if just for a moment.

______________________________________________________________________

“Not bad… but your hands are still clumsy.” Cersei critiques, even though her heartbeat speeds and her skin is on fire as Brienne massages her breasts.

The truth is that ever since she started tutoring Brienne on how to “be Jaime” the girl has exceeded her expectations. Cersei has to admit it is getting to the point where she’s getting better than he was at some things, after all she is initiating Cersei’s idealization of her twin instead of the reality.

Brienne lowers her head to one of Cersei’s exposed nipples, running her tongue over it softly, before sucking lightly, causing Cersei to squirm and feel the wetness between her legs dripping down between her thighs.

“Here…” Cersei says, “Let me show you one more thing Jaime loved to do.”

She steps out of her unlaced dress completed, kneeling down to unlace Brienne’s beeches, pulling them down along with her smallclothes.

She can’t help reaching out to caress the other woman’s muscled thighs, placing gentle kisses everywhere her hands travel. Brienne jumps, startled, when Cersei’s mouth nudges between her thighs, finding the most sensitive spot and rolling it with her tongue. She doesn’t protest though, and Cersei can smell her desire and feel how swollen and sensitive her flesh is from arousal.

“Jaime would tell you that you taste delicious. He loved the taste of my cunt.” What Cersei doesn’t say is that she feels the same way about Brienne’s, one part of her that is just as feminine as any other woman’s. Instead she darts her tongue inside, enjoying the way the woman’s legs shake as she uses her mouth and hands on the most sensitive parts of her.

Brienne tries to dig her fingers into the flesh of her own thighs, choking back the noise that is building inside her as she always seems to. Cersei bats away her hands, weaving her own with Brienne’s.

“Jaime would want to hear how he was making you feel.” She insists. She doesn’t mention that she wants to hear it as well.

She is rewarded with a high pitched whine as she buries her mouth against Brienne’s soft flesh once more. She doesn’t stop until Brienne is screaming, spasming and weak.

She rises to her feet once more and presses her body against Brienne’s, invading her mouth with her own pleasure soaked one.

“Do you want to show me what you learned?” She dares.

______________________________________________________________________

Brienne blushes every time she thinks about it, but she can no more bring herself to put an end to Cersei’s game than she could stop breathing.

There are marks on Cersei’s thighs from how hard Brienne gripped them earlier in the week when she was licking the other woman and she kept thrashing around. Cersei seems a hundred times wetter when Brienne is holding her down, so Brienne supposes that she likes it, even though that is never what Cersei shows her as Jaime’s habits. When Cersei is being Jaime she is always gentle and tender, without a trace of her signature cruelty. Sometimes Cersei forgets she’s being Jaime,though, and that’s when she does things like bite down, half playful and half forceful.

Today it is Brienne spread out on the bed, Cersei perched on top of her
“It is a shame you never got to enjoy his cock, Brienne.” Cersei gasps, pausing the lapping of her tongue. There is only one Him; she doesn’t have to specify, “As much as you like this, you would simply die for a proper fucking.”

She resumes her course, lips closing down around that sensitive nub of flesh and sucking hard. Brienne groans involuntarily, fingers digging into the bed. She refuses to respond to Cersei’s taunts whenever possible.

“Of course…” Cersei continues, replacing her mouth with a thumb and breathing in such a way as to tantalize, “I do have a solution, if you weren’t too concerned about your maidenhood.”

That catches Brienne’s attention. She’s long since giving up hope of marrying and, while she has no intention of letting some oaf “take it”, her virginity seems increasingly less important.

“What are you talking about?” She demands without meaning to.

“Well…” Cersei grins like a cat who has caught its prey, “Jaime is gone but I had his cock… memorialized to to speak. For when he was gone for long periods of time… you know. Or rather you don’t, I suppose.”

Her smile widens as she draws a bundle out from her skirts. Obviously, this little scene has been planned out ahead of time. She lets the cloth fall away and Brienne catches the glint of gold and there it is: a golden model of manhood, more lifelike than any on a statue or such.

“It was a complicated process involving wax…” Cersei continues, rubbing it in her hands, “Jaime was, of course, scandalized, but he never could refuse me anything. Luckily for you.”

Since it is your first time, I’ll warm it up for you.” Cersei magnanimously offers, hitching her skirts up around her waist to expose herself, as she faces Brienne. Brienne can see her curls are already damp, revealing that she has been enjoying this encounter already.

Brienne is shocked by how arousing she finds it when Cersei presses the head of that metal cock against her opening. Cersei’s bodice is undone, her hair wild, and her abandon is contagious. She moves slowly, letting it slide in smoothly and using her free hand to massage her own breast as she does, never taking her eyes off Brienne.

Not that Brienne can seen to tear her eyes away. Cersei moans, clearly enjoying the feeling of the way it fills her, working the cock in and then sliding it almost all the way out before pressing it back in. Brienne is hypnotized.

“If you can bring yourself to stop fingering your own cunt…” Cersei growls, and Brienne realizes she has indeed unconsciously begun to touch herself, “Maybe you want to take the reigns here.”

Brienne flushes, feeling the hotness spread across her face, but she nods. She does her best to mimic the way Cersei has moved her own hand, feeling the metal now warm from the other woman’s body heat.

Cersei has one hand on each breast now, pinching her own nipples and every time Brienne pushes back in she bucks harder. Brienne rests her free hand just above Cersei’s womanhood, at the base of her curls and the pressure seems to drive the other woman wild.

“Faster…” Cersei hisses and some perverse part of Brienne refuses, slowing her hand motions instead, until the cock is barely moving inside of Cersei, but pressing in slow circles with the other hand.

“Gods! Brienne… Pleaaase!” Cersei begs so prettily, control forgotten for the moment. The submission pleases that evil voice inside of Brienne and she relents, meeting the eager thrusts of Cersei’s hips until she collapses, satiated for the moment.

Not for long, though. Cersei pushes herself back up, not pulling the golden phallus out of her body, but instead guiding Brienne back into the pillows. She discards her rumpled clothing and presses the full length of her naked body against Brienne’s.

Brienne starts to feel nervous, uncertainty mixing with desire.

“Let me show you.” Cersei whispers in her ear, one hand running down Brienne’s side and the other against her cheek.

Brienne doesn’t fight Cersei as she captures her lips, sweet and and loving, like she’s being Jaime once more. Her mouth opens to Cersei’s tongue, her hips arch up to meet her. There are moments where it is hard to remember where she ends and where Cersei begins as they writhe together on the bed.

Finally, Cersei breaks their lip lock and begins to move her way down Brienne’s body. She massages and kisses and admires every scarred inch of it, staying in character as Jaime. When she reaches the junction of Brienne’s thighs she whispers how sweet Brienne tastes.

“I want to make sure you are absolutely ready.” Cersei swears, before darting her tongue inside Brienne, one thumb rubbing above. Then she switches positions, one graceful, long, finger coating itself in her juices before sliding inside of Brienne, curving in to rub with intention.

“A lot of men, of course, really and truly don’t give a shit.” Cersei breaks character, “In fact most men would just throw you down and take it. I’m showing you how Jaime would have done it, though. So I’ll go slow.”

A second finger creeps up to meet the second, as Cersei picks up her pace a little, scissoring them apart just slightly, and Brienne feels anxious but eager.
“You are so wet for him.” Cersei comments, “Wet but tight. Men love that so much. They love to force themselves in... to have you stretch and give way.”

She has three fingers inside of Brienne now, and Brienne finds she is starting to moan with each thrust. She can’t control the whimper that escapes her lips as Cersei pulls her hand away completely and replaces it with her mouth.

“Tell me what you want.” Cersei demands.

“More.” Brienne chokes, “Please?”

“Soon enough. Come for me like a good girl, so you are nice and relaxed for him.” Cersei instructs, twisting her fingers back inside of Brienne with a newfound sense of intention, “That’s right. I need to hear it.”

Brienne has no will left to fight her. Besides, Cersei knows exactly how to finish her off by now, better than Brienne herself has figured out how to in all the years she’s explored her own body.

Cersei is kissing her again, hands all over Brienne’s body as she pulls that golden cock out of her own body and lines it up with Brienne’s own.

“Try not to tense up now.” Cersei warns, “You will only cause yourself pain.”

Thinking about not tensing up makes it almost impossible. Brienne may be lust filled but she has been hearing horrors about how awful this part can be her whole life. Cersei is having none of it though. She is back in character and begins kissing Brienne again, rolling Brienne’s nipples between her fingers, telling her all kinds of lies about how much she is needed.

She doesn’t even realize Cersei is about to slide the cock inside of her until she’s already started doing it. There’s definitely a stretching, but none of the agonizing pain Brienne expected. Once Cersei has gotten it all of the way inside of her, she pauses, kissing all around the area, letting Brienne get used to the sensation.

“Do you want to do the next part yourself?” Cersei asks, “I know you have the hang of it already.

Brienne nods, the idea of control is appealing; although, the thought of Cersei watching her do it in humiliating. It shouldn’t be, after everything that’s already happened, but somehow it is none the less.

She closes her eyes, and tries to imagine the scene Cersei has set up for her: Jaime loving and gentle, full of kisses, and desperate to please her. She sets up a rhythm, not too slow and not too fast, reaching down with her free hand to rub the delicate flesh in time. Logically, she knows that the lips leaning down to kiss her are Cersei’s, but she allows herself to get caught up in the fantasy that it is Jaime.

______________________________________________________________________

Cersei hasn’t slept in her own bed in weeks, and neither of them has mentioned Jaime’s name in twice that time. The indulgence of waking up with Brienne’s wam body curled around her is something she and her twin never had, and something she hadn’t wanted or gotten in her marriage.

She wakes to Brienne’s hand between her thighs, arm reaching around from behind her and mouth breathing against Cersei’s ear. Cersei circles her hips back against Brienne’s, encouraging her as the other woman slides her fingers inside, moving slowly until Cersei begs her to please do it harder, faster.

It doesn’t take long for Cersei to explode against Brienne, going limp momentarily in her arms.

“My turn.” She grins, rolling over and making her way down under the covers, when a knock comes to the door, informing Lady Brienne that she has a visitor.

Plans for pleasure will have to wait, Cersei sighs to herself, as she helps Brienne into her clothing. Her own can wait. It is hard not to linger on the task, massaging Brienne’s stiff muscles and enjoying the feeling of her skin. Brienne has to go though, and they both know that.

Cersei tidies up behind her, dressing and making the bed, before leaning out the window to see Brienne emerge out into the courtyard. Her expression changes suddenly, shock and embarrassment and something else written all over it as she sees a figure it takes Cersei a moment to recognize.

Jaime. Jaime is here and the way he is looking at Brienne makes Cersei’s heart drop. She should be happy he is alive but all she feels is a growing sense of dread.