First thank you for all the wonderful comments. They really do inspire me to write. I also want to apologize for the delay. My entire office got the flu about 3 weeks ago except me. Then they all got better and I got it. Needless to say, between work and being sick this chapter took much longer than I hoped. We should be back on a regular schedule now.

Tywin's Study

Jaime rolled his eyes as he stood over at the fireplace, staying silent as his brother and father discussed war strategy. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts of this impending wedding and Sansa and Joffrey and...anything besides the two of them going back and forth.

Tyrion handed a parchment to his youngest son, in a mixture of bemusement and annoyance, "The Raven says Stannis plans to ride West. The Raven brought word this morning that Stannis believes he should kill the unjust King and Ned Stark's killer before taking his rightful place on the Iron Throne."

Tyrion threw the letter down on the table, seemingly unimpressed. "Stannis, the fingerless Onion Knight, the Red Witch, and the rest of the odd assortment of armies will be killed on their way."

Tywin mumbled his disapproval, "He has Renley's army and his own. He has more men than us, more ships than us." Jaime continued to stare in the flames, wishing the conversation was over.

Tyrion shook his head, "Yes he does right now. But it will take an army of that size weeks to get here and when they do their supplies will be dwindling. Besides, the Spider in King's Landing has let me know Stannis won't be heading here at all."

Tywin looked at the dwarf and asked what he meant.

"That red witch of his has been seeing things in the flames or the ashes or whatever she sees things in. She has told her Lord, for lack of a better word, that the girl with Ice in her hair and fire in her blood is the true danger to the Kingdom."

Tywin brushed it off, "Daenerys Targaryen? That is ridiculous. She is in some far land buying slaves and perpetuating this lie about all these dragons being alive."

Jaime jumped in, having drifted back into the conversation, "So what Stannis is going to the ends of the earth to do what exactly?"

Tyrion shrugged, "I don't know exactly but something to do with a sacrifice to the Lord of Shiny Things."

Jaime rolled his eyes again and was then joined by Tywin. "I don't have time for this silly nonsense. Jaime I need you to have a meeting with several of our captains as soon as possible."

Jaime smirked, "I'm free all day tomorrow." A second later his jaw throbbed and the taste of spit and blood oozed into this mouth. Jaime looked stunned as Tywin rubbed his fist. "The only reason we have a chance at getting out of this war victorious is because of your marriage to the Tyrells. You will not make a joke of this. And do not be late for supper." Jaime said nothing as his father retreated from the room.

The Sept Garden

Sansa frowned deeply as continued to clean the blood off Jaime's chin and mouth. The sun was below the trees now, the night breeze causing their hair to dance around them. They remained silent, as she busied herself with cleaning him up. He was content to breathe in her scent and watch her closely.

He brushed a tear away from her check. She kissed his chin once it was clean.

Sansa looked over to the west, "The sun is setting on your last day before you are married."

Jaime smiled but it never reached his eyes. "Well then I suppose we should go get ready for the feast."

The Great Hall

Sansa rolled her eyes as another three people ran to the closest door. The putrid smell of vomit was hidden in a drench of roses and jasmine. The servants were working over time, some were helping sick guest to their chambers, while others were helping with the revolting cleanup.

Joffrey had run first, followed by half of Margaery's entourage, then the bride-to-be herself. Then several lower Lannisters left. Petyr Baelish had thrown up all over some poor blonde girl. Whispers were already circulating that Loras Tyrell passing out in the stairwell. Then Tyrion had claimed he wasn't feeling well and left too, but he walked much too slow to be sick. I bet he is faking.

A few minutes after, Jaime winked at her before solemnly telling his father he was ill as well. He was definitely faking.

Two of the musicians had left abruptly during the last song as had several of the servers. The only members of the host table still seated where she, Cersei, and Tywin. Cersei wore the hint of a smirk behind her serious eyes while Tywin continued to watch various guests and servants run quickly out of the hall, knocking over seats and flowers as they ran.

Tywin's gaze was a mixture of dismay and curiosity. "It would seem there will be no wedding tomorrow as the bride, groom, and most of the guests have become ill."

Sansa knew her face lit up but tried to hold her smile as best she could. "If your Grace thinks that is best, I am sure King Joffrey would approve."

Tywin stood up, announcing he had to reschedule many things before turning back to Sansa. "Perhaps, my grandson would appreciate his wife's comfort during his distress."

Sansa cocked her head to the side, "The King will call me or anyone else for that matter if he so desires it. Until then, I shall stay and host the few guests who have not taken ill."

Cersei practically giggled as Tywin existed the hall. Sansa turned quickly and asked, "How long will the effects last?"

Cersei shrugged, "How am I suppose to know? Do I look like some sort of healing woman?" Sansa continued to stare at Cersei until she bobbled her head a moment. Once the serving wench was out of hearing range, Cersei continued.

"Perhaps the symptoms would be similar to a child eating a rotted boar. Seven or eight days time and most will recover with only bad memories."

"Why did you cause all these people to become sick. This will only delay the inevitable wedding?"

Cersei gleefully whispered, "Perhaps it is the same reason you knew I was plotting something to delay this wedding and you did nothing to stop me."

Sansa's Apartments

Jaime pushed himself deeper inside of Sansa, groaning as she contracted around him. He thrust a few more times into her before he finished inside of her. Sansa whispered his name as she ran her fingers through his hair. She said his name louder as a shiver ran through her whole body.

She smiled against his neck, "I'm cold."

Jaime stood up off the stone floor and picked Sansa up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking her to the bed laughing happily. All of sudden Sansa's expression changed to a serious frown. "Jaime don't you think we are cruel? We are doing…this and practically everyone else in the Castle is sick. They say it may be a week before their regular nature returns."

Jaime bent over the bed and kissed her, his tongue finding hers.

The Dungeon

Theon watched as the dark haired man walked out of his cell and began his journey down the long hall. The man had refused to give his name and only spoke in riddles. His coloring was not that of a Lannister. And the way he spoke was a cadence more like those of King's Landing than of the flower realm. Perhaps he was a servant of Tywin Lannister's? No. His clothes were far too fine for a servant and that black bird he wore on his breast was certainly a sigil from a lesser house.

Theon closed his eyes, thankful he had a bed to rest upon at last albeit still in the middle of the cold, dark prison cell.