A/N: And thus we come to Joffery's wedding. I'm sure the astute among you can see where this is going . Should be fun!

Also, quick little plug, if you all want to support my personal writing, my second book comes out on September 19th. The first book can be ordered on Amazon. Look for Hour of Mischief by Aimee Hyndman.

Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter 36: The Royal Wedding

Like winter, Joffery Baratheon's wedding to Margery Tyrell could not be avoided. And surely as the trees of the King's wood turned red and gold, the great celebration finally began. It was to be a long and ostentatious affair: a ceremony with all of the important lords of Westeros in attendance and a feast that would last for three days. All things considered, it was a terrible expense on the realm, especially in war time.

And it meant a world of problems for Jaime. He would have preferred to be a member of the King's Guard this moment. Then he would have excuse not to talk to anyone. He could keep watch and ignore the many lords and ladies and their questions.

However, he no longer donned the white cloak since his father had forced him to break his vows. He was Lord Jaime Lannister now, heir to Casterly Rock. His father reminded him of that when he gifted him with a golden hand.

"You may have lost your fighting hand, but this will remind people who you are. A Lannister."

"Seems a bit ostentatious, don't you think?"

"Sometimes people require ostentatious reminders."

The golden hand certainly caught everyone's eye, especially in the morning sunlight.

The ceremony had just ended and Joffery was officially wed to Margery Tyrell. A flower and a supposed stag joined by the gods. Standing in the sept was suffocating. It was hard to say who disliked it more: Jaime or Arya? She stood tensely at his side, adorn in a blue gown. A beautiful color on her, though she still looked uncomfortable in a dress.

Joffery kissed Margery and Jaime couldn't help but feel sympathy for the girl. Of course, she was clever and had Joffery wrapped around her finger. But that boy was a monster. Who knew how long she could keep him caged. One day his wrath might turned on her. It had happened to Aerys Targaryen's wife.

Jaime blinked hard, shaking his head. He hadn't meant to mentally connect Joffery to Aerys. The Targaryen king had been far worse. Joffery was cruel but he had not yet burned men alive in his halls. He had not yet planned to set the whole city ablaze.

Still, he found it hard to look upon the king as his son most days. Myrcella and Tommen made it easy. They were kind children. Joffery on the other hand...

"We're moving," Arya murmured, tapping Jaime's arm.

Jaime jerked out of his thoughts. "Yes, of course."

One part of the wedding's madness was done. But the feast to come would surely be far worse.

Arya and Jaime had a place at the main table near the left side. Naturally, they would, as they were part of the King's family. Arya, however, looked like she would prefer a seat at the very back. Somewhere far away from Joffery. Jaime sympathized, he had no doubt the boy would poke at a nerve today. He had lost three of his King's guard because of her.

"Four if you count me," Jaime thought. "Though I'm not sure he does."

Until the food was served, however, they were not required to sit. So Arya distanced herself from the main table. Jaime watched her cross to Ellaria Sand, then disappear behind a tall shrubbery.

She is spending an awful lot of time with the Martells, Jaime thought.

"Lord Jaime Lannister."

Jaime tensed. Speaking of which... He turned to face Oberyn Martell. He had not yet spoken to the Dornish prince since he arrived but he knew Arya had many times. "Prince Oberyn. It's been a while."

"It has, hasn't it?" Oberyn said. "Last time we met, we were children. I visited Casterly Rock with my sister."

"I remember," Jaime said. Tyrion had just been born at the time. They were all very young. It was a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then and many kings had sat upon the iron throne.

"Not well, I'm sure," Oberyn said. "You likely remember my sister better. You shared a home in King's Landing for a time before she was murdered."

Jaime's jaw tightened. Yes, he remembered Elia Martell. She was a kind woman, devoted to Prince Rhaegar. He had repaid that devotion by kidnapping another woman and starting a war that ultimately got her kill.

"Yes. We did share a home," Jaime said. "I saw her many times. But I wouldn't call us close."

"No. You spent most of your time with Aerys Targaryen. Until your sword found it's way into his back," Oberyn said.

Jaime smiled bitterly. "Please, don't pretend my sword stabbed him by accident. It was entirely intentional."

Oberyn returned the smile, just as sharp. "At least you admit it. I have trouble getting others to admit their crimes." He tilted his head to the side. "Tell me... where were you in the castle when the Mountain raped and murdered my sister?"

"I don't have the timing exact, but I remained in the throne room until Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon arrived," Jaime said. "So quite far away from the incident."

"You don't deny that it happened though."

"Why should I? You seem convinced."

"You don't try to defend your father's honor?"

"My father can defend himself. And I thought it was the Mountain who killed your sister. Or are they the same man now?" Jaime glanced around. "That would be dreadfully awkward. You'd think I'd be taller if that was the case."

Oberyn shook his head, smirking. "You're funny. Do you hide behind your sharp tongue when the lords and ladies call you Kingslayer behind your back?"

"I slayed a king," Jaime said. "Technically speaking, they are correct. I don't need to hide behind anything." He leaned closer to Oberyn. "If you have business with the Mountain, I don't care. But if you have business with me, be clear. I like to know my enemies."

Oberyn shook his head. "I have no business with you. If what you tell me is true, you were not a part of Elia's death. I don't care for your family name but..." He glanced to the side. "If I harmed you, I imagined I'd have your wife to deal with."

Jaime followed his gaze to Arya. She was watching them from the side, scrutinizing them. Trying to read their lips.

"You have spent an awful lot of time with my wife, haven't you?" Jaime asked.

"She shares my taste for justice. You can understand," Oberyn said.

"Oh, I understand her desire for vengeance. I have heard her list before."

"Members of your family are on that list, aren't they? I'm amazed that you have not taken action against her. You must love her dearly."

Jaime's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat, Prince Oberyn?"

"It is a statement of fact," Oberyn said. "Are you worried about the Lady Arya spending time in my company?"

Jaime did not reply.

Oberyn smiled. "You needn't be so worried. She is in love with you as well."

Jaime looked at him in surprise, opening his mouth to speak. But Oberyn wad continued on his way before he could reply.

He looked back at Arya who made eye contact with him from the shadows. He had not considered words like 'love'. It felt like a word for fools with dreams and romantic notions of the world.

And yet...

The call for the feast went up and food began to arrive. Jaime shook himself from his thoughts. The day was young. He could not waste time on such things.

Arya barely touched the food sat before her. All she wanted to do was get through this day. While the food was decadent and smelled wonderful, it made her sick to her stomach to look at. And she couldn't focus on eating when she was hyper aware with Joffery.

For the most part he was wrapped up in Margery. But sometimes into the feast, he raised his voice.

"Silence! Clear the floor."

Arya's hands balled into fists on instinct. Already anger boiled in her chest and she didn't even know his plan.

"There has been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not an amusement." Joffery said. "A royal wedding is history. The time has come for all of us to contemplate our history."

The servants began to turn a crank on the head of a great golden lion head statue at the right corner of the floor. Arya glanced at Jaime to see if he knew what was happening. But he looked as confused as her.

"My lords. My ladies," Joffery said. "I give you, King Joffery! Stannis Baratheon. Renly Baratheon. Robb Stark. Balon Greyjoy!" For every name he spoke, a dwarf in a costume galloped from the head of the lion. "The War of the five Kings!"

Arya felt time slow down for her at the sound of her brother's name. Her gaze focused on the dwarf, dressed in his costume: suited in fake armor with a wolf's head helmet. She could not take her eyes off of him as the five dwarves acted out the war.

"I'm the King in the North!" he shouted, laughing all the way. Making a mockery. And Joffery snickered and clapped at the horrendous display.

Arya stared straight ahead. Blankly. Feeling separated from her own body as the Joffery actor 'killed' Robb Stark and ripped off his wolf's head. He mimed fucking the head for all of the audience to see and Joffery laughed so hard he snorted. Arya clenched her teeth together so hard she thought they might shatter.

Jaime rested a hand on her arm. Breathe, he seemed to say. It's just another one of his tricks. Breathe.

She did. She could not let Joffery get to her. She would not let him win.

The performance ended and the dwarves gathered in a line to bow. Joffery stood, offering up a pouch of coins. "Well fought. Your champion's purse." For a moment Arya thought that might be the end of it. But then he paused. She could see him plotting. "Though... you are not a champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all the challengers." He looked around. "Would anyone else like to challenge my rule?"

Arya waited. She stared straight ahead, knowing exactly where Joffery was going. Sure enough she felt his gaze settle on her. "Lady Arya... you like to play at being a warrior, don't you? Perhaps you would like to fight. You're a little tall to stand among them, but that might be a nice change for you."

Jaime cast Arya a warning glance. She nodded once, then stood. "You honor me, your grace. But I am a lady. It would not be proper for me to do so."

"Are you? So you don't play at being a boy anymore?" Joffery asked.

"Of course not," Arya said. "No, fighting is left to fearsome warriors like you. Of course you are experienced in combat. This little history play shows as much. I'm sure you fight just as well as the actor wearing your costume." She lifted her chin. "Though your armor does not have any scratches or bloodstains. If one didn't know any better, they'd almost think you had never seen battle at all. It's a good thing we all know better." She smiled tightly. "I'm sure you could put all of those rumors to rest right now if you show everyone how you wield a sword. I would love to see that."

She sat again and she felt Jaime squeeze her arm. It was dead quiet or else he may have whispered something to her. But he couldn't when the king picked up his cup and moved toward them.

Arya felt wine poured over her head. She gripped the table but did not move. Dumping wine on her was hardly the worst that could happen. She allowed it with silence.

"That is a fine vintage, your grace," Jaime spoke up. "A shame to waste any of it."

"I have plenty left," Joffery said.

"Yes, and he can only handle so much," Arya murmured.

She felt Joffery's anger behind her. Margery called out from her seat.

"My love, come back to me. It's time for my father's toast."

"Well... I can't toast with an empty cup," Joffery said, pacing back toward Margery. Then he turned, seeming to get an idea. "Lady Arya... you can be my cupbearer. You played one for my grandfather for a time, yes? You should still remember how to do so."

Arya looked up at him. "I would be honored."

"You shouldn't be," Joffery said.

"Then I shall be especially honored." Arya stood, circling around the table. Joffery held the cup above her head, tempting her to reach for it. She did and he let it slip from his fingers. Arya caught it with her left hand before it could hit the ground, never breaking eye contact. She went to the wine and poured, slowly. Oh how she wished he would choke on the wine she poured. She would love to see his face turn purple.

She filled it all the way, then held it out to him.

"Kneel," Joffery said. "Kneel before your king."

Arya did not move. She did not speak, but she certainly did not kneel.

"Kneel," Joffery said again, stepping toward her. She did not. She kept staring up at him, unmoving. Unafraid. "I said... KNEEL."

Arya thought she might throw the wine in his face if he said that word one more time. But suddenly, Margery cried out. "Look, the pie!"

The tension snapped, just like that. The guests clapped and cheered, eager to take their attention off of Arya and Joffery. Slowly, Joffery took the cup and paced away from Arya. She turned and drifted back toward the table. Jaime stood.

"Arya."

"I'm fine," she murmured. "I'm amazed I didn't strike him."

"I'm amazed too, honestly," Jaime said.

Arya wiped her face with her sleeve. "I think I may slip back to my room. Make an excuse for me?"

"I'll come up with something," Jaime said.

Arya nodded and started to move away.

"Lady Arya, where are you going?" Joffery called out. Even enjoying his pie and his wife, he could not resist taking another jab at her. She must have really tested him, killing three of his King's guard.

Arya paused in her step. "I'm not feeling well, your grace. I wish to retire. I don't want to cause a scene at your wedding."

"No, no. You're my cup bearer. You'll remain here," Joffery said. "Serve me my wine."

Arya gritted her teeth together. Patience. Patience. She needed patience. She crossed back from her table. Joffery had set his goblet near Lady Olenna. She picked it up and handed it to him. This time he did not try to make her kneel but gulped it down.

"Good. Needs washing down."

Arya tried to leave again. "Now, if it please your grace, I must-"

"No," Joffery said. "No you'll..." He broke off coughing. "You'll wait here until..." He coughed again. He must have gotten pie stuck in his throat. "Until I..." Again he coughed. Now that Arya looked at him, he seemed to be turning a bit purple. His coughs became more erratic. His hand went to his throat.

Her eyes widened. He was not choking. Not on pie anyway.

The King was choking on poison.

The cup slipped from Joffery's hands. He stumbled forward, gasping for breath but fell to his knees in front of the panicked crowd. Jaime rushed around the table, over to his side, his King's guard instincts taking over. Cersei knocked Margery aside to run to him.

Arya couldn't believe what she was watching. The king was dying before her very eyes, blood running from his mouth and nose and eyes. His skin turning purple. She should have been elated but she felt only utter shock.

Cersei turned Joffery over, calling out to him. But it was too late. Everyone could see it. Arya watched the light leave his eyes. The eyes of the boy she loathed so much for so long. One of the very first names on her list and he was dead.

Then Cersei looked up at her.

The hatred in her eyes brought Arya back to herself. She recognized her situation in an instant.

"If someone else wanted to kill Joffery, they could easily get away with it," Arya had told Oberyn only a few days ago. "They'd just have to frame me."

And so they had. Joffery was dead and Arya had been the one to hand him the cup.

Seven hells, she thought, making eye contact with an equally shocked Jaime. I am damned.

A/N: With an absent Tyrion, Joffery needed someone to insult at the wedding. So, here we are. Looking forward to the next mini arc, it should be fun. Obviously I'm borrowing some from the canon but I will not be following it entirely.

Until next time!