Freckled skin crawled with gooseflesh, the calamity that consumed the hall sending chills through to the core of the new Lady of Casterly Rock. Not once had she seen a group so large cluttered into a room so small. They didn't have the luxury of the royal gardens to entertain those who gather to celebrate the union of the Kingslayer and his new bride. Mugs full of ale collided with each toast sending the amber liquid to the marbled floors. There were jeers and laughter at each table as if the horrors of war and Joffrey's murder had been long forgotten, and the sweet melody of music surrounded all like a gentle summer breeze. Yet, with the room in celebration around her Julianna couldn't help but feel the weight of her new title weighing heavily on her chest. Eyes watched the room with envy, her gaze lingering on the many knights with ale and wine soaking their clothes and women in their laps. They had even been graced with the presence of Oberyn Martel and his paramour. Her body lounging over his lap shamelessly, his knowing gaze rising to toast the head table before relishing in the taste of her lips shamelessly.

A sigh shook the shoulders of Lady Lannister. They reminded her of the weddings back in Casterly Rock, where the smallfolk would gather in pubs, barns, or the streets to celebrate their love. Julianna craved to drink until the ground felt unsteady beneath her feet and to peel herself from her throne of a chair and dance to the drag of the bow against fiddle strings. Yet, the music was slow, graced with the whistle of flutes and harp strings. Each song lulled like the last, each their own Lannister lullaby.

Raising her cup, Julianna took a long sip of her sour wine in a desperate attempt to calm the desires that craved to break escape the facade she was forced to maintain. She was not a proper lady, nothing could be more clear as she looked up and down the head table and the looks of disgust on the faces of her new family.

Tywin's eyes had narrowed, his proud smirk lost from his lips at the sight of the less than dignified acts of their guests. His knuckles grew white around his goblet as to restrain himself, his icy stare mirroring a long winters night as eyes lingered on a familiar frame. Curious, Julianna perked up in her seat, leaning forward to follow his gaze to the Lorathi handmaiden who served drinks to the tables and offered a courteous smile to all - even those who let their hands linger on her figure for much too long.

Cersei was seated beside her father, her nose upturned in disgust. She hadn't seen such an unruly display since her own wedding day. For a young queen, it had been exhilarating. King Robert Baratheon had been handsome, lean, and black-bearded when she had taken her as his queen in the Sept of Baelor. It had been the happiest moment of her life, but the night that followed offered a glimpse of the life Robert would lead. It had been such a boisterous affair it was with her throne room filled with drunken knights and painted whores. Cersei had drunk from every glass she was offered and welcomed every touch of Robert's hands. It was went the man she had worship took her into his bed the harsh reality became clear. Her King had crawled on top of her, his breath stinking of wine and he did what little he did - what little he could do and craned his neck down so that his hot breath and words would wash over the delicate skin of her neck; Lyanna. With the utterance of a single word her love for him had been lost but she was forced to maintain her facade of infatuation as he took whores into his bed and let his belly grow soft. Bright eyes look to get father, pleading for an intervention that would never come. Instead, she would be forced to watch the knights drink themselves into the gutters and force themselves on women.

Her hand raised up, beckoning Bernadette to her side. She had another empty chalice to be filled. With each fill of her cup, it had begun to taste less like wine and more like water. Her lips were left with the subtle stain of red grapes, and her breath was sickeningly sweet as she leaned in to her brother's form, her hand wrapping around the strength of his arm like the talons of a famished owl swooping down on the scared mice that scurry through the gardens at night. "She's quite beautiful," her words were a mere whisper against the shell of his ear. The words she spoke only for him to hear. Her predatory gaze looked past her dear brother and to the beauty she would be expected to accept as her sister. "But you knew that already, they took your hand not your eyes. Julianna Lannister," her name tasted like poison on her tongue, "Such a sweet, innocent, girl - didn't know where to put a cock until I showed her -"

The wine Jaime had been savoring tasted sour in his mouth at his sister's words. His lips parting to fight the sputtering cough that took him, his bright eyes falling dark as they sought out Cersei's pale features. To the untrained eye, many would think their queen to be ill, but Jaime knew his sister better than anyone; "You're drunk," he hissed, the wine lingering in his throat as a subtle burn, "if you so much as lay a finger on her-"

Cersei let out a laugh, putting any that had found themselves staring at ease. "Don't worry, dear brother, her maidenhead is still yours for the taking," her hand slid down from its place on his arm, her delicate touch moving to explore the expanse of his thigh and encroaching on his member. "And when the night is through, and you find that the poor girl can't satisfy your hunger, my door will be open-"

Heavy boots rattled with each step, and a voice that Jaime had long ago wished would forever be silence graced his ears. She was always saving him, even when she didn't have to; "Your Grace. My Lord. My Lady."

"Lady Brienne," the formality felt foreign as it slipped of Jaime's tongue.

"I just wanted to congratulate you both and wish you good fortune," Brienne's words were sincere as she let her gaze hover between Jaime and his new bride. Her lips were pressed into a firm light, caught somewhere between a frown and a smile. For countless days and nights she had walked and ridden at his side with one mission: Escort him to King's Landing and assure the return of the Stark girls. Yet, with each passing day, Jaime had become less of a prisoner and more of a friend. Brienne learned of his passions, and his love for the girl he called out for in his sleep. A part of her knew that she herself had come to love Jaime, and her heart ached to see him love another - but above else she wanted his happiness and it was not joy in his eyes as he welcomed her.

Standing up from his seat, his motion forced Cersei's hand from his lap, Jaime rounded the table taking one of Brienne's hands in his own. "I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for me and my family," he spoke, Jaime looked back towards Julianna, his smile beginning to grow, "I am forever in your debt-"

The music that floated through the air fell silent, the crowd's words falling from shouts to whispers as the Queen's chair dragged against the floor. Cersei's hand was raised up to silence the crowd, her handmaiden close to her side as she wavered on her feet. "The Septon has prayed his prayers, my brother has taken sweet Julianna under his cloak and we have celebrated their love with both food and drink. But she is not yet his lady, a wedding needs a bedding." The unruly crowd lead the applause with cries of approval, their mugs up ale rattle down on tables and raining the amber liquid onto the floors. That alone brought a smile to the Queen's features, the squeals of the ladies had her clutching her chest with laughter. Since they were young there had been whispers, how Jaime was the most handsome man in all of Westeros. There was no doubt they would have his clothes off before reaching the chambers. "Lady Brienne, would like the honor of helping my brother with his clothes?"

Thin lips fell agape, the stale air that circulated through the keep tasted of bitter as it dried her tongue. Thick fingers trembled at the thought of stripping Jaime of the fabrics that draped his form and her stomach knotted with the memory of his flesh in the bathhouse all those nights ago. He had been less a man then, his ribs had protruded and his cheeks had fallen shallow. Her imagination would run rampant at the thoughts of his now healthy body, even more so if her eyes were to fall on a glimpse of the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt. Pressing her lips firmly together, she forced herself to swallow before seeking out the young bride's permission with a silent look.

Julianna gazed up at the towering woman through thick lashes. Her heart thundered in her own ears as the room rushed around her. Men and women jeered - if there was one thing they enjoyed more than the drinking it was the bedding ceremony. Her skin crawled at the thought of fat, drunk Lords gripping at her body, her breath hitching at her throat as she wished she could have Lady Brienne whisk her away to the safety of her quarters as she did the day their Late King Joffrey had met his ill fate. Instead, it was Jaime that would receive her escort. She let her head bow in a subtle nod before reaching her hands up into the curled locks of her hair. Fingers fidgeted with the beautiful golden fastener, pulling it free and letting her strands tumble down her shoulders and back. Standing up from her seat Julianna sought out her handmaiden, Rosamund, who had hovered behind her seat with great patience. She folded her petite fingers around the gold, offering her a gracious smile.

"Are you nervous?" Rosamund whispered gently.

Julianna peered up, her smile didn't fade; "a little."

"Do you think it will hurt?" Rosamund pressed, a young woman born to one of the most notable families in Westeros, her maidenhead was a virtue. She did not dare think of laying with a man until her own wedding night, but it did not make her any less curious about the experience of a man between a woman's legs.

Her head shook, her hands coming to rest around Rosamund's carefully. "No," Julianna's word was too confident, and quickly begged another as she gazed back over her shoulder at the knight that was now her husband, "he is kind. He will be gentle-" Julianna's words were cut short by a yelp, the force of rough hands taking hold of her body and prying her from her place at the side of her handmaiden. The new lady of Casterly Rock was swarmed, men hoisting her feet from the ground and carrying her off towards the bedding chambers. Fists tore at the fabric of her gown, and fingers pressed down into her flesh until her skill was left purple. Behind her, the ladies of the Keep were far more gentle, their giggles drowned out by the slurs that slipped through the lips of men. It was when they came together at the chamber door, Julianna was exposed to the room and Jaime was near stripped of his trousers by devilish women that they were freed from the hungry grasp of their wedding guests.

Jaime's eyes went wide at the sight of her, a long stride placing his broad form in front of her vulnerabilities. Arms captured her form, pressing her flush against him protectively. This earned a holler from the crowd earning a glare from the Kingslayer, one that was cast back over his shadow. First, his eyes found Bronn, he should have known the sellsword would have been among them. He had always been so eager to use Julianna against him, and he had little honor, but there was a look on his face that was almost apologetic. It was beyond him that there was a grin that truly haunted him. The broad smile of his sister as she watched it all unfold from the head table.

"Come," he spoke gently, guiding Julianna through the threshold. Jaime did not part from her until the echo of the closed doors consumed the room around them. "Did they hurt you?" He muttered and tried to ignore the jests from beyond that door that instructed him of where to put it. Jaime's fingers grazed over her freckled flesh, the corners of his lips pushing down into a frown at the sight of redness from the pressure of someone's hand. He knew well that it would fade, but he wished they had been more gentle.

"I'm alright," her words were a promise as her hands came to rest upon his best, her fingers making a fist around the loose fabric of his tunic. The ladies of the court had worked a number on him, and for that her chest was hit with a spark of jealousy. He was her knight, and hers alone. "Mere wandering hands and crude words, the ladies appear to have had their fun." Her fists tugged his shirt free of his trousers. The waist of his trousers fell limp, sliding down the angles of his hips and leaving little to the imagination. With each of Julianna's subtle movements, her gown slipped from her form.

"Is it time for our fun? " Her brow quirked up high, mirroring the smile that splayed across full lips. Julianna thought she could have only dreamed of this moment; when Jaime could have her without the cover of night and the secrecy that had loomed over them since the start. With their wedding, and soon their consummation, there were very few people who put their lives of Lord and Lady of Castery Rock at risk.

Petyr Baelish had brought the greatest danger, knowing all too well who Julianna truly was: A desperate merchant's daughter and a whore. Littlefinger had always been one to push for favors, seeking the greatest benefit for himself and himself alone - yet, the Lannisters were the strongest house in the Seven Kingdoms and offered the one thing Petyr had always been working for. Power. He had been given Harrenhal for his quick thought and loyalty to the crown that brought the aid of the Tyrell forces to the Battle of Blackwater. Ever since Littefinger hadn't set foot in King's Landing.

The whores that had come to be her family, no one would ever believe their gossip. They had always squawked and gabbled, going as far as to call Cersei Lannister a greater whore than them all - though the words were always spoken under their breath and followed by the echoes of laughter. Then had come the ill-fate of one of her greatest companions; Ros. She had only heard whispers of her death through the servants in the castle. No one had grieved for the busty redhead, at least not publicly. Those who knew her had silently wept, even Jules had shed her fair share of tears, but her death had brought security. No one kept secrets better than the dead.

Tyrion Lannister had been the mastermind behind it all. Picking out the naive virgin girl from the pleasure-house all those moons ago. It was meant to be nothing more than a laugh, but the reality of his brother's love had become clear the day the Imp and his sellsword had sought out the services of Littlefinger's whores. Tyrion knew all too well the punishment that would be had if their father were to discover Julianna's truth. The girl didn't deserve the hell his dear Tysha had suffered, nor did Jaime deserve such embarrassment. His lips would remained sealed, and Bronn, as long as his pockets were full, would do the same.

Jaime's hand came up to rest against his loves freckled cheek, his thumb stroking over the the soft angle. His tough then traveled downwards, tracing along her jaw and seeking out her plump lips. Oh, how he craved to be reminded of how pleasure sounded as it erupted out of them. His eyes watched as her lower lobe trembled at his touch, her breast rising and falling in a heavy breath. Julianna bit took the lower lobe of her lip between her teeth as she tried to fight the arousal that consumed her from a single touch of his hand. "We don't have to hide anymore," he muttered to her, his hand leaving her face to tug the waist of his trousers free. The fabric wrinkled as it tumbled down to the tops of his boots and two quick steps on his heels rendered him bare before his bride. "Lords and Ladies still wait beyond that door," and while he was sure the crowd had thinned he could still hear their hushed voices and shuffling feet as they scurried like rats, "for any semblance of a sound that would indicate that you are mine…"

"Then," she took a heaving breath, "that is exactly what they shall hear," Julianna promised.

Jaime, however, didn't waste his time gazing over the form that he had claimed as his own long before the wars that plagued the lands of Westeros. He knew every angle of her body and just where to kiss and caress to make his Julianna weak in her knees. Stepping forward, he stole the air between them, his gilded hand coming to rest at the peak of her hip - he had yet to truly discover how to please her with the golden fist. There were no digits to extend to pleasure her with nor a palm to stroke along the curves of her flesh. Jaime grit his teeth and let his brows furrow at their center, his heart thundering against his chest as his mind fell into darkness.

It had been a cold dark night, the only warmth from the flames that danced on kindling. He could feel the heat in the toes of his boots, his legs stretching out against the dirt. His shackled hands were pressed into his gut, trying to find a semblance of warmth in his soiled clothes. His stomach rumbled with great hunger, the noise rivaling the thunder that gave the Stormlands their name. Then, came her screams. The desperate cries of Brienne were shrill to his ears as her burly form was dragged off by each arm and leg. Jaime had almost let them take her, his tired eyes falling to the dirt as he tried to the was his stomach curdled with each yelp from her lips. It was when he peered through greasy locks his lips parted and his Lannister charm slipped through parted lips - it was something each of Tywin's children had been gifted with and with it, they often could talk their way into, or out of, anything. But not this time. The promise of sapphires and gold had only been enough for the men to drag Brienne back to her place leaning against the adjacent tree. Her gaze was thankful, yet pleading as if she knew the horrors that were to come. As Jaime made his promises of wealth and status he was pulled from the ground and thrown over the low stones and restrained by those loyal to House Bolton. Jaime's eyes had grown wide from the sight of the blade cutting through his wrist with ease. He had seen the blood coat the stone, and his own screams filled the air as the pain surged through his body-

"Jaime," his name was a beckoning call on the lips of his lover, "Jaime come back to me-" His body arched, his face coming to rest in the curve of her neck effortlessly. With ever breath, his warmth washed over Julianna's delicate flesh. Her gentle touch found his chest, her fingertips traveling downwards until she could grip at each side of his waist in a desperate attempt to keep him near. Jules had never seen this look in his eyes before, the hue of his blue eyes seemed almost faded as if she were gazing at them from miles away through a thick fog. His lips dragged over the skin of her throat, feeling each steady breath. Julianna was doing her best to calm the flutter of her heart in her chest. She had always held her knight so close, but now he seemed but a shell of the man she had come to love. It was only as Jaime's teeth nipped along the angles of her collarbone that Jules knew that he had found his way back to her now and wanted her to help remind him just what it felt like to be alive. Drawing back, both breathing slow, their hungry eyes locked. Her full lips parted, near trembling as she whispered out her humble request;

"Will you make love to me, like it's the first time?"

His eyes became bright with a sparkle of lust. The first night he had taken her it had been his name day and he had been far from gentle. Jaime had no intention of bedding her again, never mind coming to love the freckled whore gifted to him by his brother. His stomach sunk with regret. He should have been soft when it came to bedding her. He should have caressed her skin and brought her body to a quiver, but there was no changing the past now - he knew that all too well. What he could do now that he was to take her to bed as his bride, was make it up to her. It would be a proper bedding, one fit for a lady. Tonight, she would know no pain, only pleasure, and all those who gathered to celebrate their love would hear her moans throughout the corridors of the Red Keep. They would lean that Jaime did in fact know how to pleasure a woman and that their consummation had been fulfilled. When they were through he could go to sleep knowing his father was a proud man and that it would be the first real attempt - of many - of trying to put a baby in her belly.


A knock at the door had Jaime stirring in his bed. Who would be out wandering at such hour? The moon was high up in the sky, the bright glow of the moonbeam peering through the curtains as they were tossed by the winds. Peeling back the blankets that concealed their naked frames, Jaime's tired feet found the chilling floor. A shiver consumed his limbs as he desperately reached for his clothes, but he became still as the large doors opened with a piercing creek and he was greeted with the flickering glow of candlelight. At first, Jaime had to squint to peer through the darkness, seeing nothing against the night, but as the light grew closer the figure had become clearer. It was his sister, Cersei. She still dawned the slimming dress from his wedding dinner, but her hair that was once twisted in elegant knots now hung down her back in a golden curtain.

"What are you-" Jaime's voice was a rush whisper. He stood naked before her, nothing but his golden hand concealing his manhood.

Cersei didn't let him finish. "How many men are posted outside Tommen's door?" Her words were a desperate excuse to gain passage into her brother's chambers. She had spent hours pacing, drinking, waiting. Waiting for her dear brother to come to his senses and return to the comforts of her bed. Waiting for the innocent girl to be consumed by her curiosities and come to her tempted for the pleasures only another woman could offer her. Yet, they never came. Instead, she found them in bed together, her brother as naked as he was born and Julianna cloaked under the bed linens. Cersei parted her lips to speak once more, only to be distracted as the young woman stirred. Envious eyes watched as her perfect body twisted beneath the covers, a bare leg coming up to take the blankets between them. She swallowed hard, trying to moisten her mouth that had suddenly gone dry.

"I am no longer Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime reminded her with gentle words as he settled back down at the edge of the bed. Reaching back, he secured the blanket back over the body of his bride before taking his share and draping it over his lap carefully.

"He's our son, Jaime. The future king, you promised to keep him safe!" And while she did not yell, her voice was strong. While under the eyes of the gods he was wed to Julianna, she would not let him abandon their family. "You swore to protect my husband, and had yourself captured by a boy playing conqueror." Her words were a musical laugh, growing louder with the intention o waking the slumbering lady from her bed. Julianna did not rouse beyond the gentle toss and turn of her body. "It cost Robert his life," and while Cersei didn't particularly care for Robert's passing she knew all to well how to shame Jaime with his honor - or rather, lack of thereof. "You chose to revoke your vows and take a wife. You chose her over your own blood, and it cost Joffrey his life. Myrcella is captive in Dorne and Tommon is to be king with a guard of fools to protect him. They need their fa-"

"Their father?" Jaime's words cut through the still air like his Valyrian steel sword. His was in a fist on his lap, his teeth grinding together. He had been the one with her, hold her hand on the birthing bed as she welcomed each of their children into the world. Yet, they did not dawn his name. He had been nothing more than Uncle Jaime, the Kingslayer. All were his seed, but not one of them had been his children. "I may have put each of them in your belly, but I was never their father. I grieve for Joffrey. I pray to the Gods for Myrcella's safety and the long reign of Tommen-" He was still such a sweet boy, maybe too soft to be king but Tywin would mentor him well.

"I know you went to see Tyrion. That creature who murdered out son," Cersei's voice fell into a growl, the mother lioness thirsty for revenge against the man who slaughtered her cub.

Jaime's shoulder slumped in defeat, his head hanging low as his gaze fell to his lap. "He didn't do it, Cersei."

"You've always pitied him. Our poor little brother. Abused by the world. Despised by his father and sister. He'd kill us all if he could." Cersei wrung her hands together, pressing down firmly as they grew red. How could her brother be so blind to Tyrion's ways? He had taken everything from her. "He took Myrcella from me. He's taken Joffrey from me-"

Jaime's head shook slowly, his gut twisting tight. Myrcella was betrothed to the Prince of Dorne and while she was leagues away, as long as they remained on favorable terms with House Martel, she was safe. Joffery's death had unfolded before their eyes. It was no sword or blade that struck him down, but a poisoned chalice. Jaime knew no man to hide behind poison, and his brother was no murderer. What Tyrion was truly guilt of, was taking Jaime from her. His brow arched up, silently wondering if she knew the role he had played in it all. His tongue darted out over his bottom lip, tempted to let the truth taint her ears. Instead, he would spare his dear sister the heartache. Jaime could only imagine it was painful enough to find Julianna in his bed. It would be a sight she would have to grow used to if she was to make habit of her late-night interruptions.

"I will see that they post four men at Tommen's door, day and night," Jaime sighed, defeated. While he was no longer their Commander, he was Tommen's uncle and he was sure they would respect his wishes. "Now," he stood slowly, his naked body bared to the room. His cock knocked against his inner thigh shamelessly as he approached the door, drawing it open to let his sister out. "I would like to get back to my wedding night. Goodnight, Cersei."

Cersei dropped her vision to the ground, watching as the skirt of her gown danced around her ankles. I love her, Cersei.She had once thought the words had been spoke to spite her, but it was becoming all too clear that his words had carried great truth. Shutting her eyes she grimaced, Julianna's sex-filled with her brother's seed a tainted sight burned into her mind. It wouldn't be long before they would welcome a child. Cersei clutched at her own stomach desperately, craving to feel another one of Jaime's children grow inside her. She became still just outside the door, her eyes opening wide and her composure was instantly betrayed by the glistening of tears. "Jaime I-"

The door creaked shut slowly, the gentle rumble of the door causing the slender woman to stir. "Jaime?" Julianna's voice was weak with sleep as she pushed up to prop herself up on her elbows. "Is all alright?"

Jaime didn't answer, and instead took a silent walk back to the bed and settled in at his side. Arms swallowed her narrow form, holding her firm and pressing his skin to his own. He let his neck crane downwards, his lips dragging over the angles of her shoulder in a feather-like graze. "They needed more guards at Tommen's door," he spoke simply, knowing Julianna wouldn't know any better and wouldn't question as to why they would come to him for such demand. Julianna did not need to hear of his sister's jealousy or know of her wandering eyes as she lay naked in his bed. He welcomed her content hum as she snuggled into his side, his hand raising to card through her hair slowly as he spoke; "ready to go again?"