We Who Stand Like Gods

"Did the map really have to be this big?

"Is that your most pressing question?"

"No. But I figure you have to get the small questions out of the way before the big ones."

"Then it is true – small questions come from small minds."

Jaime frowned at his sister's barb, even if he didn't let her see it. The phrase was actually "small things amuse small minds" – it was a phrase that Tyrion had imparted to him over two decades ago, as his brother walked the world that small men could possess large minds. He, Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, wasn't sure how he would rate his mind. He considered himself to be a man of average size, with a mind of average capability, and until a few years ago, possessed of above average abilities with his hands. Specifically the ability to hold a sword and kill people.

Now, however, his sister, Cersei I Lannister, Defender of the Realm, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, had entrusted her brother of average mind and now average sword skills, to lead what remained of their forces against the people who wanted to kill them. Maybe that was why the map which covered the floor of the throne room was so big, he reflected, as his sister walked over to the Iron Throne. Not as big as it was when it had covered the courtyard of the Red Keep, but big nonetheless. She wanted her brother to appreciate how much shit they were in. For to the east, lay a fleet of Dothraki and Ironborn, led by Daenerys Targaryen, along with three dragons. The last child of House Targaryen was following in Aegon's footsteps and was setting sail to Dragonstone, before likely marching on the capital. Following in the footsteps of Stannis Baratheon as well, he reflected. Only Stannis had nearly taken King's Landing without dragons, and had failed only because of the arrival of Lannister-Tyrell forces.

House Tyrell…as he turned his gaze from his enemies to the east, he turned west, to the Reach. House Tyrell were their enemies as well. In a realm where a woman claimed queenship, it appeared that dear Olenna was content to lead the forces of the Reach before death took her, since blowing up her son and granddaughter had given the hag some extra life. That was what their scouts to the west had reported. What they had also reported was that the Tyrells were now allied with House Martell, who was marching from the south. Just any one of these houses now possessed more power than that of House Lannister, he reflected. Even if their forces arrived from Riverrun to reinforce the capital and weren't cut off by the Tyrells, they'd be facing the full might of two houses and their vassals at King's Landing. And that was assuming that the so-called "Breaker of Chains" was content to wait in Dragonstone for the duration.

"Enemies to the east," his sister murmured. "Enemies to the west, enemies to the south, enemies to the north." She took a sip of wine from a servant who stood at the throne's side – 'Hannah' or 'Allanah,' he couldn't remember her name. "All of whom want us dead."

The North. Jaime had almost forgotten about them, but as he walked along the map, sure enough, he found Stark-Arynn forces in a black castle marked Winterfell. The North was now in Stark hands, and House Arryn, curse them, had finally decided to join the war on the rebels' side. So far there was nothing to suggest that the North had allied with the southern houses in their march on the capital, and even if it did, such was its distance it might be a moot point anyway. If it were up to him, Jaime would have let the North go – he didn't like the place. Too cold, and he'd spent too long in a cage up there.

"So," said the lord commander of the Kingsguard. "You want me to defend our city from the entirety of Westeros. Defend it against people who want nothing more than to see you dead-"

"Us, dead," Cersei corrected.

"…including a girl who had dragons. And…" He stopped, as he walked across the map from the North to King's Landing. "Reunite all of Westeros into the Seven Kingdoms under your rule."

"Perhaps," Cersei said. She finished her wine and held out a glass to the serving girl. "Or you can kill them all and let the Seven Kingdoms fall into the Seven Hells." The glass was filled and she downed half of the wine in one gulp. "I understand your sword arm is a bit better these days."

Jaime frowned again – yes, his sword arm was better, but he was more concerned that his sister was drinking on the throne. Aerys had been mad, but at least he hadn't drunk wine while burning 'traitors' to death.

"My kingdoms," Cersei said. She handed the glass to the serving girl and began walking over the map, tracing the route Jaime had taken. "All of them filled with bastards and cunts. Thorns, wolves, carrion birds, and overgrown lizards." She laughed. "Well, what of it? They're mine. Mine!" She clapped her hands together. "Look at us, dear brother, standing atop the world, like gods. You, the Warrior, me, the Mother. Only four more are needed."

"Five."

"Four. The Stranger works apart, and will take all who rise against us. What say you to that, Brother?"

"I'd say that you're drunk."

Cersei slapped him.

"Not hard enough," Jaime said. "If our enemies break into the throne room, you'll want to do it harder."

Cersei slapped him.

"And with a sword."

Cersei didn't slap him this time. Instead she walked back to the throne, taking yet another glass of wine. The last glass. "You wield my sword. By your life, you won't let them hurt me." She looked at the girl. "What are you standing there for?"

"My Queen?"

"The wine is gone," Cersei whispered, as if a viper. "Your queen demands more wine."

"Yes, your grace." The serving girl curtsied and scuttled off. Cersei laughed.

"Dornish!" she exclaimed. "I drink the wine of my enemies!" She finished the goblet and tossed it aside. "Well, let them come! They will find none of their wine here!"

Jaime sighed – he'd been here before. Nearly fifteen years ago, as he'd watch Aerys deny the inevitable – that Rhaegar had fallen, the rebels were marching on King's Landing, and that Tywin Lannister wasn't here to help him. He'd stood here, in the knowledge that while Aerys lived, more people would die. How many more would have to die by the time this was all over?

"Hmm." Cersei leant forward in the chair. "Good wine."

"I guessed as much."

She hiccupped, and Jaime sighed.

"Something off, Brother?"

"You were queen once," he said. "Married to Robert Baratheon."

"I'm well aware of Father's forced matrimony. What of it?"

"Robert won the crown by force of arms. You wear the crown because a disgraced maester put it on your head and declared you queen."

"I'm well aware of the details of my coronation."

"A coronation that came within a day of the death of our son."

Our son. He didn't hide it. None of that mattered anymore. Myrcella had died in his arms. Tommen had thrown himself out of a window. Jeoffrey had also died in his arms, and in no less bloody a way. The word for a child who had lost their parents was 'orphan.' Why was there no word for a parent who had lost their children?

"Tommen is gone," Cersei said.

Why, instead of grief, did he feel rage? Why, as he reached for his sword, did he feel the urge to shove it through the opening between his sister's legs and see whether anything came out from them this time? Why was he still here, about to fight a losing battle, when he'd been happy to sacrifice his honour by killing the Mad King?

"Your wine, your grace."

Cersei took it and took a sip. Sighing, Jaime returned his gaze to the map, taking note of the statues in Riverrun, King's Landing, and those scattered throughout the Westerlands. Too few, he reflected.

He wasn't a god. Gods didn't have to rely on armies. He was but a man.

But, he reflected, still a man with a sword…

A/N

I wrote this without access to the season 7 trailer, so when I checked it again, I realized that the giant map of Westeros Jaime and Cersei are standing on isn't in the throne room. Whoops. Allowed some creative licence to shift it a bit.