Game of Thrones: Lord of the Seven Seas

Leagues away from Damian, in one of the opulent chambers of Casterly Rock, a breathtakingly beautiful woman with regal features and golden hair was riding atop a man whose strikingly similar facial features as if they were twins. Her moans, though suppressed, filled the dimly candle-lit room as she urged the man beneath her to slam into her harder and harder. Her body, slick with sweat, gleamed in the flickering light.

"I'm going to cum, sweet sister," the handsome man grunted, increasing his speed with fervor.

"Ah, ah, release inside me, my dear," she moaned in reply, her voice thick with desire.

The woman was none other than Cersei Lannister, the Queen of Westeros and wife of King Robert Baratheon. The man beneath her was her twin brother, the renowned Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. Their forbidden union, hidden from the world, thrived in the shadows of the grand castle, far from prying eyes but fraught with dangerous consequences.

After they were spent and laid next to each other, with Cersei resting her head on Jaime's chest, she finally voiced what had been troubling her since she had spoken with their father.

"He is a fool to give those northern barbarians the whole of the Iron Islands. How could Father even let this happen?" Cersei said with great dissatisfaction. She hated the Starks, primarily because of Robert's obsession with Lyanna Stark and the king's unwavering friendship with Ned Stark. To her, it seemed Robert was showing blatant favoritism by making a Stark boy, not more than fifteen, the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Jaime sighed, running a hand through her golden hair. "You heard what Father said, Cersei. Damian Stark won those islands by fighting fair and square against seven of the Ironborn lords in front of everyone. He also gained the most merit in the war, which means he deserves it."

Cersei's eyes narrowed in irritation. "Deserves it? He's just a boy. This isn't about merit; it's about power and influence. Robert is giving his friend's house more strength while we sit and watch. It's madness."

Jaime's fingers traced idle patterns on her back, trying to soothe her. "Father has his reasons. Tywin Lannister does nothing without purpose. Maybe this is a way to create tension among our enemies or to see how the boy handles such responsibility. The old lion always plays the long game. I wish the Swift Wolf had accompanied his brother. After hearing so much about him, I would have liked to fight him in the tourney."

Cersei didn't seem persuaded; in fact, her face turned even more irritated. Jaime noticed and asked, "What is it now?"

"Uncle Gerion said he is more skilled and talented with a blade than you were at his age. How could he even say that?" she snapped, her frustration palpable.

"Pfft, hahaha," Jaime laughed, a rich, genuine sound that echoed through the chamber.

"Why are you laughing? I'm serious. Even Father's face fell when Uncle Gerion said it," Cersei said, her annoyance growing.

Jaime's laughter subsided, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement. "Why would I not laugh? Gerion has always been one to provoke and prod. And perhaps he's right. I was quite something with a blade, but if this Damian Stark is truly as skilled as they say, then it only means there's a worthy opponent out there."

Cersei scowled. "You're too complacent, Jaime. This boy is a threat. He's a Stark, and now he's been handed the Iron Islands. Robert's favouring his friend's house too much."

Jaime's expression softened, his amusement fading into a more serious demeanor. "Cersei, we cannot control Robert's decisions, nor can we stop the rise of every talented young lord. What we can do is ensure our position remains unassailable. Father knows this, and so should we. Besides, it's doubtful whether this Swift Wolf will be able to hold the seat of the Iron Islands for long."

"What do you mean?" Cersei asked, her curiosity piqued.

Jaime's smirk returned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I doubt those Ironborn cunts will let a Stark rule over them easily. They are a breed apart, wild and unruly. Just wait and see. I foresee a darker road ahead for this so-called Swift Wolf."

Cersei's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So, you think they'll turn on him?"

"Eventually, yes. The Ironborn respect strength and blood, but they also crave chaos and reaving. A Stark, no matter how skilled, will find it hard to tame them. And if he can't, it will only be a matter of time before they rebel."

Cersei nodded slowly, a calculating look on her face. "Yes, perhaps you're right. We should keep an eye on this Damian Solstark. His rise might be swift, but his fall could be swifter."

Jaime chuckled softly. "Exactly, sister. Let him deal with the Ironborn and their treacherous ways. Anyway, I should retake my position outside the gate. We can't get too careless in our own house now."

Cersei understood her brother's meaning all too well. This was Tywin's den, and he had ears and eyes everywhere. Their little affair was a dangerous game, and if discovered, it would mean certain death due to their status and relation to each other.

Jaime rose from the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead gently. "Until next time, sister," he whispered, a hint of longing in his voice.

"Until next time," Cersei echoed, her eyes following Jaime as he dressed swiftly, donning the white cloak of the Kingsguard once more. The sight of him, her brother and lover, transforming back into the Kingsguard the realm saw, was both comforting and disheartening.

As Jaime left the chamber, a mix of frustration and fear gnawed at Cersei. From the moment she had heard of this Swift Wolf, her thoughts had been consumed by him. Tales of his prowess, his rapid ascent to power, haunted her dreams and waking hours alike for the past few days. It felt like a premonition, a shadow of the threat Damian Solstark might one day pose. Why? She had no clear answer. Perhaps it was the stories of how Damian was more skilled than her brother in swordplay at a young age and now crowned lord of Iron Island, a feat that stoked her jealousy and resentment. Or maybe it was something deeper, an instinctual sense of impending danger she couldn't shake.

Cersei placed her hand on her bare stomach, where a new life was quietly developing, another product of her forbidden relationship with Jaime.

"Don't you worry, my sweet child," she whispered, her voice a mix of tenderness and resolve. "Mother will protect you and your elder brother from our enemies, no matter what I need to do."

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