"So you fucked Cersei Lannister ... again? I thought that was water under the bridge or whatever?" Julian drawled, pouring himself a glass of wine and spreading out on Rhaegar's lounge.

Rhaegar tutted standing abruptly from the other end of the lounge, feeling as though he had been restless ever since he had left Cersei's chambers. Their meeting was short, short enough for her to avoid any conversation as to why he was actually there, but long enough for too many mistakes to be made."She just has a way of getting under my skin. She knows what to say, how to say it."

Julian stifled a laugh. "I'm not being funny but you're just weird Rhaegar. So what you fucked her it's not like the world's going to end. Besides, how long had it been since you had an intense, passionate, hate-filled quick fu-"

"Julian don't be so vulgar," Rhaegar snapped, fixing the buttons on his dress shirt. "I'm married."

"And betrothed," the curly-haired drunk mumbled into his cup.

Rhaegar turned to him, slapped the cup from his hands he forced Julian from the lounge onto his feet. "I am the Prince, Julian. I have certain duties and characteristics to live up to!" Rhaegar shook him, unsure of how he would make him understand. "And Cersei is one of the most, if not the most, calculating woman I know. She's probably giving birth to a bastard as we speak."

Julian rolled his eyes, unamused by Rhaegar's antics. "First of all, that glass was worth more than a farmer's salary you idiot. Second of all, why the hell do you keep going back to her if you don't want her?" Julian insisted, slapping Rhaegar's chest with the back of his hand.

"Well ... because ... well, she's ... it's Cersei ... I mean."

Julian mimicked Rhaegar's stuttering, "Duh-well-dah-hud, get a fucking bed warmer and stop stressing me out with your stupid love triangles."

Rhaegar frowned at Julian, wondering why he had all of a sudden turned hostile. He knew it had nothing to do with the spilt wine that now painted the floor a vibrant red, the castle was filled to the brim with it. "Is this because I told you that Ashara Dayne was off bounds?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Rhaegar, as of late your only worries have been women and how to piss away your gold. Have you forgotten the small matter of murdering your father, the King!?" Julian hissed. "A task, might I remind you, you put me up to."

Rhaegar grimaced as Julian slammed the door on his way out, his footsteps disappearing down the long hallway. On the contrary, he had not been able to forget the murder of his father. Well, the planned murder. Rhaegar had asked Julian to not give him any details on how his father would be killed, fearing that after the last attempt the plans would be foiled again. Julian, as well as Rhaegar, knew that his stresses with women had everything to do with his obsessions for a perfect family in accordance with the same prophecy that had been haunting him for far too long and that his father's death would help him move that agenda along. He also knew that the patience of the people and noblemen was wearing thin, the last thing he needed was a revolt.

The door swung back open, Rhaegar had expected it to be Julian and began to apologise, only to realise that it was his father and Ser Barristan.

"There's a feast tonight, where I'll be announcing your betrothal. So, dress accordingly," and with that, his father was gone as quick as he had come. Ser Barristan grimaced at Rhaegar, bowed his head and followed after the King.

With the door still, open Rhaegar followed after them. "But what about Elia?" he called out.

The King stopped in his tracks, turned to Rhaegar and let out a deranged cackle. "She will be there too."

"No I meant-" but Aerys had dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he shuffled away. Rhaegar clicked his tongue, concluding that it was best he went and told Arianne about the feast so she wasn't caught by surprise.

A task that proved harder than he had thought as she wasn't in any of the gardens, her new quarters or even with the Dornish handmaiden's that had been appointed to her by Elia.

"Perhaps she is in her own room? The one she was originally given your grace," Lady Penelope squeaked.

Rhaegar nodded his head, 'why didn't I think of that?' He thought to himself, thanking the three and hurrying away.

"The things I would let that man do to me," Nymella murmured, unknowingly still in earshot. There was a soft thud, Rhaegar presuming one of the other ladies hitting her. "Ow! Fuck, Penelope, you are such a bore."

He smiled to himself as he made his way to his soon to be official betrothed's room, as he rounded the corner of the long hallway Rhaegar came across a sight he was sure was a dream. He wanted to rub his hard so hard that stars would appear, but that wouldn't make a difference to what was going on right in front of him.

Jaime Lannister pulled away from the short kiss he shared with Arianne, his wife to be. The bastard who didn't seem to understand the luck of her fate, kissing the man Rhaegar had foolishly appointed as her guard.

Arianne smiled up at Jaime, wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him into the room. Jaime let out a small chuckle, not even bothering to check who was around and shut the door with his foot.

Rhaegar scoffed, stood outside of the door and tapped his feet for what felt like an eternity. He wasn't sure exactly when he would interrupt them or even how he would, it would embarrass every single one of them, himself included. Allowing the short moment of anger to wash over him, Rhaegar pushed the door open. There, on the bed, lay his wife to be with a Kingsgaurd on top of her.

He didn't know exactly what he expected, perhaps for it all to be a joke or for them to realise their mistake and vow to never repeat their actions, but this was reality and nothing ever went well in reality. He watched as the timid naive girl he had grown to love wrapped her legs around Jaime's pulling him closer. He watched as Jaime placed his helm on the bed and pulled her dress, one he noticed differed from what she wore earlier in the morning, over her head and throw it onto the ground.

"I suppose a whore's daughter cannot be blamed for the traits her mother passes her," Rhaegar sighed, walking past the bed and stopping to stand with his hands behind his back at the door of the rooms secret bathing suite.

Jaime pushed himself from the bed abruptly, snatched his helm from the bed, bowed and began to apologise profusely. Arianne too stood from the bed, picked her dress up and held it close to her chest, suddenly regretting ever setting eyes on the pair of them.

"Rhaegar I-,"

"I'm disappointed in you Arianne. Him I expected it from, I've known Jaime long enough. But not you," he tutted. "You may leave us, Ser." He said, directing his words to Jaime, who in turn nodded his head and left the room silently.

Arianne's futile attempt to redress herself was only met with more tuts from the Prince, who gently pried the garment from her hands. "Is this new?" He asked her, giving her naked frame a look down.

She nodded, covering herself as best as she could. "Y-yes it is."

He spread the dress out and tore it from top to bottom, the silent room filled with the ghastly sound of the sheer expensive material ripping over and over again. "Don't go all shy on me now," he laughed, her discomfort humouring him. Once he had amused himself enough with ripping her dress to shreds, he then took to moving her hands from her body.

"Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean for-,"

He cut her off again, holding his finger to her lips. "Shh," he whispered, cornering her back onto the bed until she fell in a heap into the fluffy covers. He moved onto the bed with her, moving her legs apart and placing his own knee between them. Rhaegar held himself up with his hands by her head and lowered his head, his white hair covering Arianne's face. "Change, you are to be announced as my wife tonight."

...