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Jaime performs almost every single night in this bar to a crowd that he has seen grow larger over time. 


In recent weeks, he has found a particular comfort in glancing to his left during a performance and making eye contact with the elegant blonde woman sitting at the bar.


Her long golden tresses fall down her back and she wears a short red gown that perfectly matches her lip color. 


She takes a small sip of her pink cocktail— a cosmopolitan, he remembers explicitly, and then shifts her gaze to the handsome bartender wearing all black, even his eyeliner. 


Oberyn, he thinks with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had no real issue with the man flirting with any and everyone that has the misfortune to sit at his bar until it was her.  


His performance ends for a brief intermission, so he sets his earpiece and guitar down and steps off the stage.


“Fix the sound before my next set, if you could,” Jaime says flippantly to Bronn on his way to the bar.


He takes a lingering glance at the blonde woman, who makes an effort not to acknowledge him, before he looks up at the bartender. 


“Your usual,” Oberyn says before Jaime can even begin. 


Jaime nods. 


Before Oberyn moves away to make his drink, he has to turn back to her once more. “And may I get you anything else?”


“No,” She answers, smoothly. “That will be all for now.”


Jaime shakes his head. Oberyn knows that he has been talking to her since she first arrived at the bar a few nights ago, but he is under the naive assumption that she is somehow fair game. Little does he know.


“Do you like him, the bartender?” 


The woman shrugs lightly. “I might.”


Jaime chuckles at that before he leans in close to her ear. “He doesn’t even know your name. No one here does, except me.”


She pulls away from him, taking another sip of her drink. “Good.” 


In truth, they both enjoy the anonymity in more ways than one. 


Oberyn returns with Jaime’s drink at that point. He always glares at the two of them as if he knows something about them that he shouldn’t, more than he lets on, but it doesn’t make him wary or cautious. Instead, it just seems to make him intrigued. 


Before Jaime can say anything or even take a sip of his drink, it is time for his next set.


The very first song in the set is one that he wrote a long time ago, but it is one that he has never performed before. It is titled ‘Cersei’ and his muse is the only one in this entire bar who knows what and who the song is about. 


He turns to his left to see her attention drifting from her conversation with the bartender to turn to him as she listens to the song that she hasn’t heard since he wrote it years ago.


He still remembers the first time he played it for her as they lay sprawled across the sheets on his bed. Her hair was disheveled and her face was free of makeup, but with her mouth parted slightly as she looked up at him, he thought she had never looked more beautiful. 


Tonight, as she sits perched on the bar stool garnering the attention of every man that lays eyes on her, including Oberyn, he feels a certain pleasure at knowing that she is his and only his. 


The feeling is only exasperated by the look he sees in her eyes. 


Jaime has never felt more eager to end his final set and rush back over to the bar to her. 


Despite his urgency, he remains casual, gazing at her before he gestures to Oberyn for a fresh drink that he intends to finish this time.


This time, it is her who speaks first.


“That song... the first one in the set?” She begins, her finger trailing the edge of the martini glass in front of her. 


Jaime takes his drink from Oberyn. “Yes? What about it?”


“Whoever it was written for... you must love her very much.”


“Oh, I do,” Jaime responds. 


They share a heavy gaze for a moment before the bartender clears his throat.


“Another one?” Oberyn asks, gesturing at her now empty cocktail.


“No,” She says, still maintaining eye contact with Jaime. “That’s all for tonight.”


“Are you ready to go?”


Jaime offers his hand to her and she takes it without hesitation.


He makes sure to glance back at Oberyn to revel in the confused, but resigned look on his face as he watches them exit the bar. 


The cold night air hits them as soon as they step outside of the bar, so Jaime takes off the blazer that he performed in and wraps it around her shoulders.


“Cersei?” He says, as if it is a question, regarding whether or not their little game would persist.


“How do you know my name, bar singer?” Cersei asks with a playful smirk. 


With that, Jaime decides to play along as they walk hand in hand to the classic hot rod that he spent far too much time and money working on. “I just guessed it.”


“Do you use that trick on all the girls?”


“There are other girls?” Jaime asks in mock confusion. 


Cersei rolls her eyes at his cheesy comment.  


Jaime opens the passenger seat door for her and closes it once she settles in comfortably. 


Starting his car, he turns to her. “I think we might have some kind of innate connection, you and I.”


“Oh, like we’re soulmates?” 


“Maybe more.” 


Finally, Jaime does something that he had wanted to do since she strolled into the bar in the middle of his performance. 


He kisses her like it has been years and not hours, as if he needs her, and she responds with equal passion. 


With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Cersei’s hand, he drives off into the quiet night without another care in the world.