The deep burgundy red of wine spread eagerly as it was spilled over the aged wood of the table. It was welcomed into each of its cracks and caressed the edge of the table as it flowed down to meet stone floors and cotton trousers. The liquor would stain, but it was no bother to the lord seated on each side of the table. It left one chuckling, his cunning words doing their best to bring light to the situation. The other was stuck in the shadows of frustration, struggling to move and function as the man he once was. For weeks Jaime had been struggling to adjust to life without his sword hand. While he didn't expect it to be easier, he had only hoped it would be easier.

A firm hand took hold of the overturned goblet, knuckles growing white as he moved to place it upright once more. His palm was left sticky and sought out the fabric of his clothes to drag his skin against. His features were overcome by distaste, only to soften as his brother poured his own goblet over the tabletop. Tyrion then stood, pouring them both another goblet of wine.

"I can't fight anymore," Jaime broke to his brother.

"Can you still fuck?" Tyrion offered, his lips curling up into a grin. He watched as Jaime's eyes lit up for a moment. Producing an heir was all that would matter to their father now, but he knew all too well how much Jaime had prided himself on being a fighter. "What about your left?"

"I can hold a sword, but my instincts are wrong. How can I rule a city when I can hardly wipe my own ass?"

"You're the Lord of Casterly Rock now. Command and let others do the fighting. When was the last time Father used a sword?" It was a pointed argument. Since the rise of the War of Five Kings, their father had successfully overseen many battles and won without tainting the blade of his own sword with blood.

"I'm not father, I'm the Kingslayer. When people find out I can't slay a pigeon…" Jaime hung his head down, looking down at the gilded steel where his hand once was. His thoughts were vivid, imagine laying in his chambers at Casterly Rock with his beloved at his side. Only for the city to fall under siege and his failure to protect her and their children. With Joffrey's claim still in question, it was a likely reality.

"Train then," Tyrion shrugged, pushing up onto his toes before shuffling back to sit comfortably in his seat. "Learn to fight with your other hand."

"With whom? You?" Jaime chastised his little brother. "Men talk. Soon as someone discovered I can't fight, he'll tell everyone."

"You need a proper, discreet swordsman. As it happens, I have just the one-"


Jaime's jaw set firmly, his back near aching as he leaned against the rubble that lined the shores. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, was the man Tyrion was confident could bring Jaime back into form. He hadn't heard much of the man beyond him saving the life of his brother and having a penchant for whores. It left this stomach in knots knowing that Bronn was one of the few to know Julianna's truth. At the very least, Jaime could be reassured that he would keep his mouth shut, as it was an unusual talent for a sellsword.

"Is this place safe?" Jaime straightened up, looking up and around for any sign of another. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a pouch of gold and tossed it to the sellsword.

"There's this knight, Leygood, got thunderbolts on his shield. Right here is where I fuck his wife. She's a screamer, that one. If they don't hear her, they won't hear us." Bronn assured the broken knight, letting the training swords he carried fall to the ground with a clamour to emphasize his point. It was then he let his eyes fall on the esteemed knight. He had heard many stories and had been disappointed to learn that many moons ago he had made claim to the freckled whore in Littlefinger's brothel. At first, Bronn couldn't believe that the Kingslayer would break his vows for a whore of all women, but then the rumours of Jaime's incestuous relations with his sister took the kingdom and it became all too believable that the knight would seek sexual refuge from the heinous cunt.

Bronn snicked at the sight of the knight's sword glistening in the summer sun, Jaime's wrist to warm it up for the fight. His lips pursed, letting out a low whistle of admiration; "I've never seen Valyrian steel before. SHe's a beauty." Jaime must have an eye for beautiful things. "The problem is, if you fight with an edged blade, I'll have to." Bronn offered the dulled sparring sword to Jaime with a shrug; "And if I fight with an edged blade, I'll have no one left to pay me. Besides, would hate to break poor girl's heart before her wedding to the Kingslayer."

Jaime lowered his sword, letting it fall to the ground before reaching for the sparring sword. The sting of metal met his hand, Bron's sword hitting him just below the knuckles. Jaime's head lulled back, even less impressed with the sellsword. "Ah, the bold warrior you are, attacking a man when his guard down."

"Best time to attack a man-"

Jaime gripped at the sword, parrying the attack of the sellsword as he lunged toward him. Met with a shove, Jaime stumbled back, bracing himself against the wall.

"If I still had my right hand," Jaime muttered out slowly, his gaze rising to meet Bronn's features.

"Plan on growing it back?" A dark brow raised, Bronn lunging toward the Kingslayer once more. "No? Then hit me," he challenged the great night only to block each swing that came his way. "Com'on then hit me." He had to find a way to motivate the knight. "Julianna she-"

"Don't say her name-" Jaime huffed, swinging his sword widely.

"Oh, did I strike a nerve? Beautiful isn't she. Can't say I wasn't disappointed when I paid her a visit-"

"If you touched her…" Jaime's words were a growl now.

"I didn't get the honour, but if pretending I did gets you swinging that sword like a knight - then I fucked her like the whore she was-" his words were cut with the swift kick of a boot to his chest. Bronn heaved, his ribs aching as he straightened back up, a wild grin overtaking his lips. "Now, there's the Kingslayer."


Elevated up on her pedestal, her naked body met with the opulent fabric of her gown. The delicate touch of a young handmaiden helped fashion the red dress to her form. To meet Cersei's instructions, the dressmaker had kept the dress tight to her frame. They had ignored the request for a low neckline at the insistence of Jaime and added long elegant sleeves. With the dress hanging from her form, Julianna let her fingers graze over the intricate gold detailing before letting it rise to a necklace as it was placed around her neck. Peering down, her eyes went wide, the Lannister sigil engraved into the pendant for all to see.

"Where did you get this," Julianna worried, her lips pressing together firmly as she glanced back at the girl who had been in her service a limited number of days.

"Lord Tywin had it delivered this morning m'lady, with the request that you wear it for the wedding," stepping back, the handmaiden gestured the small vanity and took hold of the brush that rested there. "Shall I braid your hair m'lady?"

Julianna's head shook, her golden locks cascading down her back. There was no need for such effort in the intricate styling that women of the Capital fashioned. She didn't need the twists or high-placed buns. Instead, her hair would hand down and tickle the bared flesh of her back. An elegant lion's mane to frame her delicate features.

Rounding the stool, she sat in front of the mirrored pane with her handmaiden falling into place behind her. The brush carded down through tendrils, smoothing the hair down her back. Julianna's gaze was lost in her own reflection, nearly unrecognizable from the day she had first set foot in King's Landing. She wasn't the scared girl sold by her own father no longer. Jules did not dawn the rags of a commoner, instead, she had been gifted one of the finest gowns she had ever seen - a gift from the queen no less. While in no way did she feel she deserved it, with her betrothal - and some quick fabrications by Lord Tyrion - Julianna was to be a Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and wed the man she loved.

A hand raised, brushing over the rise and fall of her cheeks gently, as if her own touch would wake her from a dream and that she would find herself back in Littlefinger's brothel in bed next to the women she had come to call her sisters. Instead, she was greeted with the sound of opening chamber doors. Julianna had half expected the clamour of armour and tattooing of footsteps against the floor but was only met with the careful steps of one pair of boots. Her gaze was pulled from the mirror, her eyes growing wide at the sight of her knight. She was not met by the glint of gold armour she had always associated with Jaime, instead, he wore black leathers and a deep burgundy tunic beneath. His Valyrian steel sword was sheathed on his hip, and his gold a stark contrast to his dark clothes. For the first time since his return to Kings Landing, Julianna was seeing Jaime for the man who was to become. He was no longer a knight of the Kingsguard, but Lord of Casterly Rock.

The handmaiden dropped into a low curtsy, the hairbrush cradled in her hands. Abandoning her handmaiden at her vanity quick steps carried Julianna to her knight, arms tangled around him effortlessly. While she did not know the girl in her service well and often struggled to recollect her name, Julianna showed no fear in displaying her affection for her betrothed. Her cheek pressed into the firm comfort of his chest, her eyes fluttering shut. His musk brought a smile to her lips, her eyes peaking open to spot damp hair. It was much less noticeable now that his golden strands were cut short. "Busy morning?" she muttered to him gently.

"Very," he sighed, only having just washed the sweat and grime from his skin. With Joffrey's Wedding day upon them, he needed to be presentable as a Lord and not as a sweaty knight. Jaime liked to think he looked the part, even his body ached from his early morning sparring with Bronn. Drawing back, he placed a hand on her shoulder and let his eyes take in Julianna's beauty. "You look absolutely ravishing." The tips of his fingers traced down the length of her arm, taking hold of her hand and raising it up high above them. With a careful guide, he spun her around and watched that the fabric was taken by the air and dances around her ankles.

Taking a step back, Jaime took the time to acknowledge the presence of the young handmaiden and Tyrion had assigned to service Julianna as her handmaiden. She was a slender girl, her golden hair bone straight, and her features all too familiar. Rosamund Lannister had once served his daughter Myrcella before her betrothal to the Dornish Prince. Rosamund and Myrcella had been near uninsurable and caused far too much trouble with their resemblance. Though Rosamund was a distant cousin, strangers had often mistaken the pair as twins or had improperly addressed Rosamund as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. With his wedding rapidly approaching, it had been arranged that the girl would return to Casterly Rock with Jaime and his bride.

"Lady Julianna has been treating you well?" Jaime asked of the young companion with a smile, his head lowering in a curt nod.

"Yes, My Lord," Rosamund smiled, dropping into a low curtsy before stepping towards the vanity to place the brush back into place.

Jaime grimaced at her words. Had fully committed to becoming the Lord of Casterly Rock with his betrothal to Julianna, but he had yet to get used to the title. He could only hope that it would grow easier with time. "I hope that the two of you can become close friends," his wishes were sincere. With the departure of Myrcella and Julianna often finding herself alone in the capital while he met with his brother and father, Jaime hoped they could find a common ground between one another. "If you would excuse us," he asked of her, "I would like to escort my lady to the wedding breakfast in the gardens." Jaime offered Julianna his arm, her own entwining with it gently.

The pair fell in step, their feet carrying them out into the busy corridors of the Red Keep. Julianna had never seen the castle so full of life. Servants hurried through the halls, their heads up high as they rushed through the halls in an attempt to complete their tasks on time. Distant travelers from each corner of Westeros admired the infrastructure and art that decorated the keep. Some let their eyes wander, falling on Julianna for a moment before letting their gaze rise. Jules watched as they would lean into one another, their lips moving to let a hushed whisper: The Kingslayer.

The words went unnoticed by Jaime, a slight nod and a smile offered to those they passed. He hoped to find newfound respect beyond the reputation he had earned following Robert's Rebellion. He wasn't to be like his father, there would be no emulating the esteemed warrior that had ended the War of the Five Kings and was the hand of the king for the second time in his lifetime. He was to live the last of his days in the tower of the hand, with his grandchildren on the Iron Throne, and the Lannister name would continue to rule over the Westerlands. His arm squeezed Julianna's arm into his side gently, the warmth of the summer sun greeting them as they entered the garden. He watched from beneath an arch of roses as his family began to take their seat at the head table, two vacant chairs awaiting himself and his bride-to-be. A smile took him, his bright eyes gazing down at the beautiful woman he would proudly introduce to the Kingdom as his betrothed. Jaime had hoped to see the excitement in her eyes, but he only found fear.

"Julianna-" he whispered out to her. The gentle tug of his arm pulling her into the cover of the bushes, between the flowers in which he had asked her permission to take her hand. His hand raised, carefully stroking the supple flesh of her cheek. "Are you alright?"

Turning her cheek into his hand, Julianna placed a gentle kiss on his palm. She had known what to expect, Cersei had been preparing her for the wedding day since she had been requested to be her handmaiden. The many feasts, the many pairs of eyes that would be on her. It would be easy. It was having to face the queen that left her trembling. She had been avoiding her since her night in her private chambers. Keeping to herself, or the company of other ladies with the hope that their presence would deter the queen's predatory nature. The assignment of Rosamund as her handmaiden had been a blessing from the gods, but Jules knew all too well that alone handmaiden wouldn't be enough to keep the queen at bay. Now, as she was to be forced into the presence of Cersei she couldn't keep the secrets of his sister from Jamie any longer.

"Jaime, I-" her words were broken, her eyes pleading as she grasped at the leathers that encased him, "I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry but Cersei she-"

"She what?" Jaime's voice grew stronger, the pit of his stomach twisted in knots. Had Cersei made an outlandish request? Had she continued to pressure the girl into a service she was no longer obligated to complete? Did she threaten her, not wanting the younger, beauteous woman to take the little spotlight she would have on her son's wedding day?

Her eyes fell shut, the burn of her tears marking her cheeks and dripping down into the palm of her knight. "When I was settling into my new room, Cersei must have heard that we were moving Myrcella's things. She had come to my room, speaking of how her children were being taken from her. Accusing my family of being traitors. Then she began to ask about the wedding, and if I was ready for our wedding night. She told me everything. I don't know if she was trying to scare me away, by telling me the intimacies the two of you once shared - the relations she shared with her handmaidens." Her words caught in her throat, near choking her. Full lips parted in a gasp, "she wanted to assure that I would know how to please you..."

Jaime had seen the guts of men handing from their stomachs, heads cut clean from shoulders, and never before had he felt so sick than he did hearing what Cersei had done to his Julianna. Eyes shut tight, lips parting slightly as they took in a heavy breath. How could he have let this happen? He had seen the vulturous gaze, and the lingering touch of her hands. Every warning sign had tied his stomach in knots, and with lack of intervention came dire consequences. Taking a step back, Jaime peered around the foliage that concealed them from the view of the head table. Eyes narrowed in on his sister, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword. While it would be a difficult task, he wouldn't let her near Julianna again.

"Jaime-" the words of his betrothed drew Jaime back into the shadows of the shrubbery. Hands grasped onto him desperately, fists at the fabric of his clothes. "I can't sleep another night in that chamber knowing that she and her guard could come knocking at my door. I used to fear leaving the King's Landing, scared that if I was dragged off to Highgarden that I would never see you again. Now you're here and I can't wait to leave this place behind. Is there anything we can do to have our wedding sooner? It doesn't have to be anything grand. The maester, your father, Tyrion and Sansa that's all we would really need. Then we can ride for Casterly Rock come sunrise-"

Hanging his head down low he listened in agony to her pleas. Jaime had already made many demands when it came to who he wed and the wedding day and knew all too well he could only push his father so far. Taking her hands in his he let out a steady breath, he could make no promises. "I will talk to my father, and see what arrangements we can make. I will have guards stationed at your door - I will sleep outside it myself if I have to. Cersei will not be disturbing you again." It was an oath, and he planned to keep it. Drawing her near, his lips pressed together in a firm kiss to her forehead. "Now, we are expected at breakfast-"

Jaime kept her close, his arm linked with hers as they left the secrecy of the rose bushes. With the head table coming into view, he could only wish to have her wrapped in his hold. He still had a part left to play, as did she. He was the courting lord and Jules, the lady in waiting. The compassion they shared had to be a secret, but only for a limited number of days. Soon, all would know just how much he loved her.

"Uncle!" The voice of Joffrey cut through the air like a knife, his icy blue eyes honed in on Jamie and his future bride. "It's about time you joined us." Joffrey stood up from his seat at the center of the table, his eyes narrowing on the couple. The audacity of his uncle to arrive late left a sour taste in the mouth of the king. Only days prior he had announced his betrothal to the girl who had now sat at his side. Julianna, one of his mother's handmaidens. A beautiful girl, such a waste to wed him to his cripple uncle. "Just in time to present me with your gift." The lips of the king curled up at the corners. He hadn't expected his uncle to have prepared a gift with his return to King's Landing so recently, but Joffrey wasn't one to pass on the opportunity to ridicule anyone.

Standing up from his place at the table, Jaime rounded to the front of the table and waved off the announcement of his title for all to hear. It wasn't needed, the guests in attendance were already whispering his name, Kingslayer.

"Your grace," Jaime bowed, before stepping off to meet one of their family's many servants that populated the Red Keep. Taking hold of a leather leader, he walked a valiant destrier horse out for all to see. Its black coat seemed to glisten in the sunlight, its hooves pattered elegantly against the stone. It was well trained, expensive breed. Only the finest for the King.

Lips became pressed in a firm line, Joffrey hadn't expected anything this impressive. "Thank you, Uncle Jaime, I will have it taken to the stables and will look forward to my first ride."

Bowing again, Jaime retreated to his place at the table, offering a smile to Tyrion and Sansa who sat at his side. Such a miserable girl, her lips struggling to hide the frown that wanted desperately to be worn. She had lost everything being pulled from her home and was forced to watch as her father's head had been sliced from the rest of his body. Sansa had been meant to be queen, and now she had been forced to marry his brother and watch at her once-beloved Joffrey wed another. While Jamie was sure his brother Tyrion was a kind and considerate husband to the Stark girl, Jaime couldn't help but let his mind fall on the oath he had made to her mother. He had promised to return the Stark girl to the safety of the North, but Winterfell belonged to the Boltons now. There was no safer place for the girl than with his brother-

"From House Tyrell," The fat lord from Highgarden stood before the head table, placing a large gold goblet in front of the Joffrey, jewels of every colour representing the Great Houses of Westeros, "and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honour to present you with this wedding cup. May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."

"A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?" Joffrey jeered, earning a chuckle from his mother and a pleasant smile from Mace Tyrell.

"I shall be honoured, Your Grace." Bowing, Mace found his seat once more, clearing the stage for Tyrion who had left his seat and carried a heavy book with aged pages to the seat of the King.

"A book?" Joffrey was less than impressed by the presentation.

"The Lives of Four Kings", Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daemon the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read." Tyrion explained to his ungrateful nephew, his thick brow raising when he was met with only silence.

"Now that the war is won," Joffrey spoke, his words forced, "we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle." The clamour of armour brought light to the King's face that had been absent for the entirety of the morning. Finally, a gift fit for a king.

"One of the only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly foraged in your honour," Tywin stood tall and proud as he watched the King race around the table and grasp the sword's elegant hilt. The sword cuts through the hair, the blade catching the sunlight and blinding the eyes of many. Pycelle cautioned Joffrey of the sword's sharpness, only for the King to strike the book Tyrion had gifted him and sent pages to scrapes that were blown away in the summer breeze.

The table rattled above their knees, Julianna's hand reaching out for the land of her lover desperately. His eyes met her gentle gaze, his fingers squeezing her hand in a silent attempt of comfort. The roar of the crowd grew around them as the King begged for the game of his new sword. Knowing his whispers would go unheard by others he leaned in close to Julianna, the heat of his breath washing over his skin. "I know this is the last place who wish to be, but I beg of you let's make the most of it, before you know it the day will be done and I will do all I can to make up for my family." Drawing back, Jaime watched as her eyes ignited with the sparkle of lust, "I know of a place we can go and enjoy the company of one another. A place where no one will hear us, would you like that?"

Bringing her hands to her chest, Julianna could feel as her heart thundered in her chest. Her skin grew hot, color flooding to her cheeks. They had been forced into discretion since the announcement of their betrothal. There was nothing more she craved than to be touched by her knight. Fingers crept up to her lips, her thumb slipping between her teeth in an attempt to hide the smile that grew on her freckled features. Her nod was discrete but did not go unnoticed. Glaring from the other end of the head table were the envious eyes of the queen, her knuckles growing white as they gripped at her wine goblet.


The crowd that had gathered in front of the Sept of Baelor spilled out into the streets of King's Landing. Commoners all desperate to catch a glimpse of the esteemed guests that had travelled across Westeros for the joining of two of the most powerful families of Westeros. If Julianna had still been restricted to the whore house, even she would have been among them hoping to catch a glimpse of the elegant beading of Margaery's dress and the handsome lords and ladies in attendance. Instead, she stood with them, Jaimie on her left and Sansa behind her, gazing on as Magreary walked up the steps of the Sept to meet Joffrey and become queen. Lips parted in awe at the beautiful red and gold cape the beautiful rose was draped in. The sun refracted through the stained glass of the sept, capturing them in the elegant mid-day glow of the golden sun.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, consumed by all that surrounded her. The gentle hymn of the chorus was ominous as the King and his Queen took their oaths of love. Julianna couldn't have imagined anything more perfect.

Hearing her whisper, Jaime's eyes left the gaze he had held on Joffrey and let them fall to his bride-to-be. She never had the honour to have seen a wedding of such magnitude before, and soon she would be experiencing it all as the bride. An arm snaked around her waist, drawing her in a step closer to his form. "Soon it will be you and I up there," he reminded her gently, "and all the eyes in this room will be on you."

The room rang with thunderous applause as the lips of Joffrey and Margaery came together. With that kiss, they had a new queen, and a weight was lifted from the chest of Julianna.


The rush of fire brought the crowd to cheers, the wedding guest scattered throughout the gardens to enjoy the entertainment and feast the royal family had to offer. Julianna's eyes went wide as they were ushered past a contortionist, she was sure she had once shared a bed with her in Littlefinger's brothel, and soon they came to the head table. Her fingers were laced with Jaime's, the pair failing to remember their promise of discretion as the hours passed. Placing a kiss on her cheek, he left her for but a moment to draw her chair only to be met by his sister.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cersei stood up from her seat, her words sharp as eyes honed in on Julianna who was waiting at her brother's side.

Her skin paled, her voice left weak as the former queen reagent towered tall over her. Cersei's eyes seemed to transfix on her, dragging up and down her body. A hand reached out, pinching at the fabric of the gown. "It's a beautiful gown, Your Grace, I have you to thank for it." Julianna kept her head low, her larynx growing weak in her throat.

Reaching out Jaimie gripped his sister's hand tight, drawing it back from the curious touch she had on his Julianna. "Is there a problem, dear sister?" A brow arched up high as he fought the erg to crush the delicate bones of her fingers in his grasp.

"You might have gotten away with it at breakfast," her words were hushed now in a desperate attempt to not draw the attention of the guests of their father, "but she does not have a seat at my table."

"She's a Lanni-" Jaime tried to protest.

"Not yet," Cersei spoke pointedly, tugging her hand free from his hold. "She will sit out the with the rest of them, or not at all."

"You were the one wanting her up here with you days ago-"

"-she is no longer my handmaiden, and not yet my sister-"

"Your Grace. Lord Jaime."

The voice of another eased the tension, Jaime turning on his heels to greet the Prince who approached the head table. Their skin was kissed by the summer sun, darkening their already golden flesh. Hair was as dark as the raven and their clothes a brilliant shade of yellow. A handsome man, and esteemed warrior; "Prince Oberyn," Jaime greet, forcing a smile.

"I don't believe you have met Ellaria," Oberyn introduced the curly-haired woman who hung off his arm. Her face framed with a beautiful golden veil. "This is Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. I suppose it is former Queen Regent now. Lord Jaime Lannister and," he paused, letting dark eyes fall on the golden-hair beauty that stood timidly by their side, "I don't believe we have had the honour, let me guess, the betrothed? I can say we were surprised to receive the news of a second Lannister wedding. Your father had been a busy man."

"Julianna," she had stepped forward to stand alongside her knight, her chin rising to meet the Prince's gaze. She fell silent as if she were done but Jaime's eyes begged her to continue. Laughing, she grew flush, "Julianna Westerling, it is a pleasure to meet you Prince Oberyn."

"Lord Jaime, Lady Cersei, Lady Julianna, Ellaria Sand," Oberyn listed the formalities, his eyes growing wide to match his smile as the man he had been seeking for days had been drawn to the growing group around the head table. "Lord Hand."

"Charmed," Tywin half growled, his eyes narrowing on his children. What kind of scene were they trying to cause?

"Can't say I've ever met a Sand before," Cersei's focus slipped from Julianna for but a moment, her curiosity overtaking her.

"We are everywhere in Dorne. I have 10,000 brothers and sisters," Ellaria purred, hanging from the arm of her paramour.

"Bastards are born of passion, aren't they? We don't despise them in Dorne." Oberyn explained, his shoulders relaxing as he noticed a smile tease the corner of the Westerling girl's lips. What did she know of passion?

"No? How tolerant of you." Cersei's face continued to knot.

"I expect it is a relief, Lady Cersei, giving up your regal responsibilities. Wearing the crown for so many years must have left your neck a bit crooked." Oberyn continued to draw joy from the discomfort that seemed to consume Lady Cersei, her finger beginning to wring at one another.

"I suppose you'll never know, Prince Oberyn. It's a shame your older brother couldn't attend the wedding-"

"Please give him our regards. With any luck, the gout will abate with time and he will be able to walk again," Tywin chimed in, his words caring a level of sincerity that Julianna had never heard from the man.

"They call it the rich man's disease. A wonder you don't have it," Oberyn cocked his head to the side, his eyes growing narrow to block out the blinding light of the sun that stood high in the sky above them.

"Noblemen in my part of the country don't enjoy the same lifestyle as our counterparts in Dorne," Tywin made the point.

"People everywhere have their differences. In some places, the highborn frown upon those of low birth. In other places, the rape and murder of women and children are considered distasteful. What a fortunate thing for you, former Queen Regent, that your daughter Myrcella has been sent to live in the latter sort of place." It had been a battle of words and cunning, and Oberyn had walked Tywin and Cersei right into the trap he had set for them.

"Everyone silence. Clear the floor!" The king's voice rang out over the feast, drawing the eyes of all in attendance.

"I think it is time we find our seats," Oberyn muttered down to his paramour, only for his arm to be grasped by the touch of the Queen Regent.

"If it wouldn't be much of a bother, Lady Julianna has been having a hard time locating her seat." Cersei knew he would know better than to reject anything she could request of him, her son was the king after all.

"It would be an honour to have you join us, Lady Julianna," Oberyn assured, offering his free arm to the future Lannister bride.

Jaime's hand gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword. In days Julianna was to be his wife, and Cersei was isolating her from those who would be her family. She would not enjoy the company of Sansa, a girl who he hoped would find companionship during troublesome times, nor would Julianna receive the opportunity to gain further approval from his father until their own wedding feast. Worst of all, she was stripping Jaime of the opportunity to properly celebrate the wedding of his kin as both the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Uncle of the King. Placing his hand at the small of Julianna's back, he offered Oberyn a thankful nod, "if it won't be trouble, I ask that I join you as well."

"Come, Lord Jaime, Lady Julianna," Oberyn nodded, his smile splaying wider as he witnessed the shock that fell onto Cersei's features.

Jaime fell into stride with Prince Oberyn, abandoning his sister and the head table behind him. His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyes pleading as they met those of Julianna. He could see the glisten of tears threatening to spill over thick lashes. His thumb stroked over the flesh of her back as they settled in silently at the table. He could have only hoped that the stories Oberyn would have to offer would draw her from the turmoil that cursed her thoughts, but King Joffrey had greater things in mind. Instead, the crowd would enjoy another king of entertainment.

"The time had come for all of us to contemplate out history, My lords… My ladies… I give you King Joffrey, Renly, Stannus, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy. The War of the Five Kings!" Out of the mouth of a lion came five dwarfs, each dressed in costume, sending the crowd into applause.

Jaime scanned the crowd, everyone near captivated by the comedic jeering of each dwarf as they took the stage. Biting his lip, his eyes fell on Oberyn, his armed wrapped around Ellaria Sand as they watched the entertainment in distaste. While they wouldn't enjoy the show, Jaime was sure they would remain captivated. His hand left the back of Julianna, letting it slide down onto the bench that seated them before it found the fabric of her gown. The Prince and his paramour wouldn't notice if he was overly affectionate with Julianna, nor did he think they would mind. Leaning in, he enjoyed the scent of her hair, his eyes falling shut as he whispered out to her; "Stay very still, enjoy the entertainment the best you can, and let me help you relax."

Curls were displaced from where they were tucked, falling down to frame her features as she nodded. Julianna was unsure exactly what Jaime had in mind to help her relax, that was until his hand was slipping between the layers of fabric that made up her gown. Swallowing hard, she bit down on her lower lip. All around them were the face of strangers, and if any one of them would have let their eyes wander from the battling five kings at the head table, or the flexible fire dancers that sparked the interest of many they would have noticed Jaime's arm snaking down between her legs. She held her breath as his fingers sought out the sensitivity between her legs.

"Jaime-"

He shushed her, smiling when Ellaria glanced at them for but a moment before letting her eyes return to the stage before them. "Wouldn't want everyone seeing, would you?" He whispered once more, his lips coming down in a gentle kiss against her jaw before he straightened up in his seat. To any onlooker it would appear that he was focused on the performance, his arm at his side - that was unless Oberyn and Ellaria turned and took in the sight of them. Looking straight on, it would become very clear that his hand was between her legs, and Jaime was all too grateful that the bodies for the Prince and his paramour kept that view from his father.

Fingers slipped down further between the warmth of her thighs, seeking her supple folds. He smirked as he felt her legs open wider, Julianna straightening up in her seat as a wave of pleasure quaked through her body.

It was only when Jaime was sure his lady was satisfied that he returned his attention to the head table where it was clear that the entertainment was long over and that the tensions faced by the Lannisters continued to escalate. Only the pidgin pie seemed to put all at ease, Joffrey's sword cutting through the pastry and sending the flock of white birds into the air. Jaime didn't envy his family as they were presented with slices of the pie and sipped at their wine. Eyes rolled as he reached forward to enjoy the pastries that decorated their own table, only for the cakes to taste like dirt in his mouth when the pleas of their new queen took the air: "He's choking!"

Pushing up from his seat, Jaime watched in awe as Joffrey clutched at the collar of his tunic, then his throat. The King's Guard failed to aid him, as did the maesters.

"Idiots, help your king!" Came the voice of Lady Olenna, her eyes pleading as she looked to the guards.

Joffrey staggered, his blue eyes wide as he looked out over the crowd of guests who watched mouths gaping as he choked. His eyes grew red and skin purple as he collapsed to the wine-stained stone.

"Move away!" Jaime abandoned his place alongside Julianna, his hands still wet with pleasure. He pushed past any who dare get in his way, falling to his knees alongside his son. Joffrey's chin was slick with vomit, his eyes wide as he looked up at Jaime. "Joffrey! Joffrey!" Jaime shouted, his hand tugging at his tunic desperately, trying to press any pressure from his throat. He was near forced from his side when Cersei came down to her knees at his side, her hands desperately pulling Joffrey from Jaime's hold and into her own lap.

"Help him! Someone help him!" The Queen Reagent pleaded to the head table, her eyes going to her father. There had to be something he could do to save him.

Instead, all watched in all as Joffrey continued to gasp and gag. Soon, his eyes began to glaze and blood oozed like tears from his eyes. His body convulsed in his mother's hold, and before letting death take him his arm reached out a single finger pointing to his uncle and his goblet.