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GOT: The Golden Lion 23 - Silver, Blonde, & Red
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 17:54:23 +0000 UTC"House Tyrell is lost."
Having won over the ancient Slaver Cities, Daenerys focused on consolidating her power and rule. With her trusted advisors in the airy room of the Great Pyramid of Meereen, she paced left and right beside the windows, her slender, refined charm gleaming at the sunlight falling in. But her brows remained creased in a frown.
"They stood by my house when the usurper rose against my family. Is there truly nothing we can offer to aid them, to bring them to our cause?" Daenerys asked.
"Another missive has arrived, Your Grace. It's from your self-proclaimed friend in the Red Keep." Ser Barristan rose to his feet to hand her the letter. "Perhaps this may contain some answers."
"You haven't read it?" She amusedly asked and took the rolled paper. A hint of keenness was noticeable as she unrolled it.
"I wouldn't dare, Your Grace."
So Daenerys chose to read the missive in silence and only share the content if she deemed it fit. But to her own and everyone else's surprise, she smiled as soon as she read it.
Greetings, my silver-haired friend across the sea. Trying to outdo Aegon, are you? Three Slaver Cities conquered—I'm as envious as I am impressed. I guess that grants me some bragging rights of my own.
The Tyrells, in their foolishness, thought they could assassinate me at my own wedding with a goblet of poison. Imagine their shock when I forced that withered old hag Olenna to confess her plot and made my treacherous would-be bride drink the very wine meant for me. But of course, their true aim was my weak-willed little brother—easy to control, easy to manipulate.
I truly despise these old schemers who think the young ones like us are blind to their schemes… Ah, I'm ranting now. Apologies, Mother of Dragons.
Daenerys chuckled openly and leaned against a window while continuing to read. So engrossed in the words that she failed to notice her shocked council members.
How are those three? I reckon they'd be big by now. Have you ridden their backs? Seven Hells, I'd trade the entire realm to mount on—oh, wait, I'm already doing that. I hope you've not forgotten the promise—Did you show them my portrait? I hope they don't burn me when you land here.
Just in case, I've sent another painting of my chiseled, handsome visage. I’m growing my hair out a bit—just refining my noble style."
Daenerys changed the page and there it was. Joffrey Baratheon's face in the painting—winking at her of all the things. More than anger, she just couldn't help but be more curious about this strange man's personality.
However, the next part of the letter made her turn serious.
I heard Yunkai crawled back to its chains the moment you turned your back. Disgusting, but expected. By all means, Daenerys, come for the Iron Throne. But what’s the point if nothing changes? After your father came mine, after me there shall be you—Maegor the Cruel, or Baelor the Blessed—the smallfolk suffer the same.”
"So he believes he can teach me how to rule," she scoffed, yet continued to read.
“King's Landing was on the verge of breaking into a riot a few months prior. But by merely mending the sewers, and rationing food, the smallfolk became happy, loyal, and loving towards their King. It doesn’t matter how many fishes you feed the hungry, for they will forever depend on you. What matters is if you can teach them how to fish.
A slave's first thought at dawn is not freedom, but food. A slave master's first thought is not food, but gold—Aegon didn’t conquer the Seven Kingdoms without burning a few castles and toppling bloodlines.”
Daenerys fell into a deep, inner silence. Her vision turned a little hazy and she remembered not killing all the Wise Masters in Yunkai, or even trying to set up a new ruling system. She simply let nature take its course.
"This man." She chuckled at the next and the last paragraph.
“By the way, what's your favorite food to eat? I'm compiling a new tome discussing the favorite cruise of all the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms starting from Aegon. I'd appreciate it if you wrote back to me. I'm also curious about what your three dragons are called. I'd appreciate a portrait too so I know when my true silver-haired friend has arrived to meet me… Ah, on second thought, dragons will be proof enough.
Good luck on your journey. May the Great Masters of Meereen make the soil fertile through their ashes.”
Daenerys put the stack of papers down and mutely looked at her council. In all honesty, she felt conflicted. Before, she wanted to kill anyone related to Robert Baratheon. But, Robert was already dead, and killing his children was similar to Robert trying to kill her—which he did try.
But Joffrey? He had done nothing against her yet.
"Was he always this wise?" She asked, turning towards Ser Barristan.
"He was a spoiled brat," Ser Barristan replied, though the firmness in his voice wavered. "I don't know anymore. The word is that he faced a life-altering trial during Stannis' siege at Blackwater Bay. Perhaps the fires of battle tempered him… But from this distance, who among us can truly say?"
"Don’t trust any word he says, Your Grace. He's a Baratheon," Jorah added.
But Daenerys remained unmoved by his warning. She wasn't blind to his biases.
"Why waste breath on a boy across the sea? We have better things to celebrate." Daario Naharis walked into the airy room and took a seat.
Ser Barristan scoffed at his disrespectful attitude. "That 'boy' took down a house that boasted an army of a hundred thousand. All without so much as unsheathing his sword."
"So he's lucky," Darrio said.
Jorah didn't like him much either. "Luck is the last thing that keeps one alive in Westeros."
Danereys looked down at the sheets of missive in her hand and let out a deep sigh. She rolled it as it was and moved closer to the table. "Things to celebrate? Such as?"
"The Second Sons have taken the Meereenese Navy."
"Who told you to take the Navy?" She interrogated, annoyed.
"No one." Daario, even more casually, grabbed a fistful of dry fruits on the table and relaxed.
"So why did you do it?"
"I heard you like ships."
Daenerys looked away, hiding the smile. She liked the idea of those ships; Or more so the idea of what they could grant her. An opportunity to go and meet this 'friend' of hers.
"How many ships?"
"Ninety-three, Your Grace," Ser Barristan answered.
"How many men can they carry?"
"Almost ten thousand."
Daenerys clenched on the missive and stared at Jorah. "Would that be enough to take King's Landing?"
Jorah ran the numbers in his mind, his brow furrowing with concern. "The Lannisters hold more, Your Grace. Joffrey Baratheon now commands House Baratheon and its forces. If his cunning matches our fears, the Reach could soon fall under his sway. He's sired a bastard with Sansa Stark, which may well tie House Stark to his cause. The Vale, too, is within his grasp, with young Robert Arryn bound to him as a squire."
"So only Dorne remains?"
Jorah shook his head solemnly. "I cannot say, Your Grace. Joffrey gifted the Mountain to Dorne, and they may choose to stand neutral."
Daenerys' mood dipped for the worse.
"The only thing we can do now is to wait for the dragons to grow bigger, Your Grace. When they’re mighty enough to set cities ablaze, the noble houses will rally to your cause. But I beg you, do not take his words lightly." Jorah suggested and noticed her grip on the letters. "He has Tywin Lannister at his back, a man whose appetite for deceit is as relentless as a lion's thirst for blood. Caution, Your Grace, for they’re as dangerous as the beasts they bear on their banners."
"And mine has a dragon," she responded, irked.
"Ser Jorah is right," Ser Barristan said. "We should wait for the dragons to grow."
Jorah continued at that. "But before we turn our gaze to such distant shores, we face urgent troubles here and now. Word reaches us from Yunkai—without the Unsullied to uphold your command, the Wise Masters have seized control of the city once more. The freedmen who chose to remain have been reenslaved, and a bitter vengeance is sworn against you. In Astapor, the council you set in place has been cast aside by a brute named Cleon, who now proclaims himself 'His Imperial Majesty.'"
"Please leave me," Daenerys demanded all of a sudden. "Not you, Jorah."
The tall, dishonored knight approached Daenerys, hands behind his back. Vulnerability he saw in her, and in it lay his chances of getting closer.
"How did Joffrey know about the fall of Yunkai before me?"
"He has the Master of Whispers, Your Grace. Lord Varys has his little birds everywhere," he answered.
Daenerys turned around and sternly looked at him, taking Jorah by surprise. "My liberation of Slaver's Bay has failed. Even if I wish to sail to Westeros now, it’s meaningless. I'm a failed ruler."
"The boy who sits on the Iron Throne—A boy many believe to be a bastard with no right to it, will fall as soon as you fly your dragons on King's Landing. Don’t compare yourself with a bastard, Your G—"
"The bastard holds a firmer grip upon the Seven Kingdoms than his father or mine ever did. Greatness is not born of blood but of deeds. And…" She gazed out over the sprawling city from the great window. "I have yet to prove my worth as a ruler. I won’t let those I have freed slide back into chains. Before I can claim the Iron Throne, I must first be the Queen of Slaver's Bay. I’ll teach these people to fish, even if there are none to feed them."
Jorah's gaze lingered on the missive clutched in her hand, a heavy sense of frustration settling upon him. "It seems, Your Grace, that your sentiments towards King Joffrey Baratheon are shifting. Beware, he is a tyrant, cruel and unrelenting. He may have hidden reasons behind each word he writes to you."
"And you?" Daenerys asked back. "What are your hidden reasons?"
"I serve you with all my heart, Your Grace."
"And I am grateful for that," she replied. "Please send Missandei in when you leave."
With a sullen face, Jorah turned around and left.
Daenerys moved once alone, picking up some paper and ink to write. Just as she sat down, she saw her handmaiden enter.
"You asked for me, Your Grace?"
"Find someone who can paint portraits with skill," Daenerys ordered and glanced back at the blank paper. "As swiftly as possible."
####
"...I hereby condemn all men and women of House Tyrell to death!"
Thud!
Thud!
Twenty execution blocks were used. Twenty heads were removed in a single day—Olenna Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, his wife, Loras Tyrell, his cousins, and any other loyal member of the House. That left only those still at Highgarden—Willas Tyrell and Garland Tyrell.
Joffrey left the execution platform as soon as the heads fell. With Sandor, Val, and Tyrion, he headed into one of the larger, luxurious dwellings in the King’s Landing. It was being guarded by Dornish soldiers.
"The King requests an audience with Prince Oberyn," Tyrion stated.
Soon enough, the men stepped aside and let them enter. Joffrey failed to find any whores walking around, but it was expected since the man was now likely a cripple for life.
"Your Grace."
Joffrey found Oberyn's paramour appeared to welcome them. I'd have loved to claim her cunt. Too bad, she's another treacherous whore in the end.
"How is Prince Oberyn? Forgive me, I couldn't come sooner. The Tyrells had left me with no choice." He apologized and stepped closer. "Tell me it’s not as dire as it seems. That fool! I warned him repeatedly to keep his armor on and take the battle with the seriousness it deserved!”
Ellaria Sand's eyes fell to Joffrey's feet. "P-Prince Oberyn is… He couldn't make it, Your Grace."
That's fucking wonderful!
"What?! B-But how… No! That's impossible! Where is he? I must see him now! He promised to win this… He can't be dead!"
Oh, I'm afraid I've even left Mother behind in this art of deceit.
"He lost too much blood following the battle and… failed to wake up." Ellaria struggled to speak, her eyes horrified. Her body shivered as she stood there.
"Seven Hells! Fuck!" Joffrey cursed and grabbed his head. "That damn Mountain! Fuck!"
He stepped forward and pulled the tall, sensual Ellaria into an embrace. One hand gripped her slim waist tight, while the other caressed her sumptuous naked back in that revealing gown. He felt an itch in his groin, but he had no desire to stick it in her.
"Forgive me, my lady. I shouldn't have agreed to the duel… I’ve sinned." He hugged her tighter, shamelessly feeling the softness of her ample breasts against himself. "I will… I’ll have men prepare to carry him to Dorne with complete respect."
Ellaria loosened herself out of Joffrey's grasp and nodded. "Dorne will be grateful for that, Your Grace."
"No, it's not for Dorne," Joffrey muttered. "I felt like I had found a friend in Oberyn. He was taken from me too soon."
Rot in hell, Oberyn. Take Dorne with you while at it. Who will rule that desert shithole now? A cripple? A whore Princess?
"Please, if there is anything you may need, just send a word," he assured her and stepped away. "Let the Silent Sisters prepare for his departure until then."
"Thank you… T-Thank you…"
Ignoring her weeping voice, Joffrey turned around and left the mansion. As soon as he came close to the Red Keep, he brought back the smile on his lips. Tyrion, Sandor, and Val knew that Joffrey was the mastermind behind it all. All that flowery bullshit was just… bullshit.
"Your Grace, may I have a word?" Tyrion requested all of a sudden.
Joffrey looked up at the sky, the sun sinking slowly beyond the horizon. "Naturally. We’ll dine in the gardens, Uncle—just the two of us. There are matters of great import to be addressed before I depart to lay waste to Highgarden."
So, as soon as they entered the confines of the Red Keep, Joffrey dismissed his two Kingsguards and went to the gardens with only Tyrion by his side. The uncle and nephew soon arrived at a sea-viewing pavilion and sat down. Soon enough, the servants brought them wine, cheese, and some snacks while dinner was being prepared.
"So, what is it you wish to say?" Joffrey asked. But he already knew what it was going to be, so he relaxed in his comfortable chair, sipping wine.
Tyrion didn't touch the wine one bit. A look of nervousness constantly sprawled over his face, eyes taking breaks from looking at the king’s face. "I… I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace. It seems you were right all along: a whore, it appears, holds nothing dearer than a purse of gold. Shae was… no exception. Drunk on pleasure, love, and my own indulgence, I’ve brought dishonor upon myself and sullied your name."
"And Tysha?" Joffrey asked further.
"Jaime confessed. Father… That bastard…" Tyrion failed to utter what had happened. The memory was still fresh—Lannister men entering the barracks one by one and coming out laughing, tying their breeches. Himself being the last to enter. The realization that the only woman who ever truly loved him had such a cruel fate broke the little man.
"I wish I was the monster he always saw me as."
"Then be one. No one is stopping you?" Joffrey somewhat sympathized with him and passed him a goblet of wine. Although he didn't really love Sansa or Val, he cared enough that if Tywin had done the same to them as he did with Tysha, he'd have burned House Lannister to the last blade of grass.
Tyrion took the glass this time and downed it whole. "But… he's your grandfather."
"Just another wishful puppet master." Joffrey snorted. "I'm not blind, Uncle. Mother, Grandfather—they all see me as nothing more than a convenient tool to wield their power in my name. They revel in their little schemes and delusions of grandeur while the true danger lur… Regardless, I have no affection for him."
Tyrion exhaled a resigned sigh and sternly looked up at Joffrey's face. “Your Grace, there’s a truth about Cersei that I must divulge. Do with it what you will, behead me if you must. I just… don't want to lie to you anymore, Your Grace. You have bestowed upon me titles, honor, and acclaim beyond what any man might dream. I d—"
"I'm a bastard born of incest? Is that it?" Joffrey took the breath out of Tyrion's lungs.
The little man would have jumped to his feet if the table height wasn't as high as his own. "You knew?! For how long?"
"The day Lord Stark burst into the Throne Room and made his grand declaration, it was hardly a challenge to piece together the puzzle and come to a conclusion," Joffrey sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "She's more depraved than my Grandfather ever was, and if she were to gain power, she'd make him look like a mere child in comparison. Her only concern is getting what she wants, and she'd sell her body to have her way."
"Ah, that's true enough," Tyrion muttered, taking a moment to sip his wine and collect his thoughts.
As the maidservants bustled about, laying out a feast fit for a king, he watched with detached amusement. When the room had finally quieted down, he resumed. "Cersei, you see, has always been this way. She’s convinced that her beauty and her body are the only tools at her disposal, to wield the power she so craves. Jaime’s been guided by his cock since youth, and Lancel, well, he’s no different. And if the whispers are to be believed, even Moon Boy isn’t immune to her charms."
A deep, disgusted frown took over Joffrey's face. "Moon Boy? The darn court jester? Are you serious, uncle? Does she have no self-respect? Has she no dignity? By the Seven! She’s no better than a Flea Bottom whore!”
Tyrion felt a little awkward. He never expected Joffrey to speak of his own mother like that. Sadly, if only he knew what else his ears were to witness that night.
"Uncle, there’s something else I want to tell you about Mother," Joffrey started, each word measured. "I’ll need your help in this matter."
"Anything, Your Grace."
"Call me Joffrey." He eased up the air and started, “Ever since I banished Mother from the Small Council and stripped her of all her power, she’s been…"
As Joffrey spoke, Tyrion forgot to eat the succulent piece of meat on his plate. Goblets of wine turned empty and got refilled too, the disgust in his heart for Cersei only grew more with each passing moment.
"...so, I’ll need your help when I'm away from King's Landing."
Tyrion heard a ring in his ears as if he lost the ability to listen. His brows rose to meet his scalp and failed to come down. "I-I… I will follow your word even if it costs my life… She truly outdid the Targaryens."
Joffrey sighed and focused on eating his food. True, it was Cersei who started that game. But it was he who decided to play it and end it on his own terms. He kept himself from making any comments.
"What about your marriage, Joffrey? With Margaery dead, and your clear disinterest in marrying Sansa—you have to pick someone."
"I already have," Joffrey replied.
"Who? Which house?"
"An almost extinct house."
Tyrion was too smart not to realize it. "Does this house have a three-headed red dragon as a sigil?"
"It does."
Tyrion gulped. "Daenerys Targaryen? Why? She hates you."
"She has dragons, and I need them," Joffrey answered and smiled just from imagining her reading his latest missive. "Furthermore, if I don’t act now, it’s only a matter of time before her dragons mature and come battering down our doors with their fiery breath."
"Why would she accept you?"
"Because I hold the realm by its balls," Joffrey declared. "Besides, Targaryen sigil has a three-headed dragon. Me, her, and… Sansa fit well. North, West, and with her the rest of the Seven Kingdoms will be under my control."
"You think you can control her?"
Joffrey smiled brightly at that, showing the most spine-chilling, kind, and handsome face on him that Tyrion had ever seen. "Uncle, women like Daenerys—broken by fate, desire nothing but the illusion of respect, loyalty, and loving desire from their husbands. She’ll find plenty with me."
Tyrion felt goosebumps all over his skin. This wasn't his nephew—it couldn't be.
But he simply didn't care anymore. Whoever this Joffrey was, he knew how to play the game.
"Father must be so proud of you."
"That's why I’ll soon use him to conquer the Reach and then take Tyrosh and Lys for myself," Joffrey revealed. "Tyrosh is renowned for sending its men Beyond the Wall to capture wildlings and enslave them. So I'll have those very wildlings joining my army, eager to sacrifice themselves for my 'glorious' cause. As for Lys, I only want it for their fine whores—there's a fortune to be made in that trade."
"Pffff…" Tyrion spewed out his wine all of a sudden.
"What?" Joffrey frowned.
Tyrion cleaned his face and snorted again, holding back his laughter. "No… it's just… I didn't expect Westeros to go from a Whoremonger King to a Whoreseller King."
"Hah… haha!"
At that, even Joffrey laughed. Being able to laugh at himself was something he had learned recently.
It was quite beneficial in the long run.
"You are not wrong there, Uncle."
"To the victories over women and land." Tyrion raised his goblet.
Joffrey did the same and toasted. "To you finding Tysha."
Both of them nodded solemnly and downed it in one go.
####
A little tipsy, Joffrey returned to the Red Keep after finishing dinner. Walking through the hallway, he purposefully took a turn away from his bedchambers. Although he very much liked the idea of bedding Val that night, he chose to postpone it in favor of giving Sansa some love and furthering the game with Arya.
"She's alone?" Joffrey asked the Kingsguard outside Sansa's room.
"She's with your daughter and Lady Arya, Your Grace."
Hah, Lady Arya? Joffrey chuckled and pushed open the door as gently as he could. But, being slightly drunk, it wasn't easy to keep everything under control. Thankfully, he found everyone already asleep. Perfect.
The entire room was barely lit, just a single candle on each side of the bed. But it was enough to discern which one was Sansa on the bed, and which one Arya. So, he quickly removed all his clothes till nothing but his rings and a lone locket on his neck remained.
No need to be silent this time.
With heavy feet, he walked over to Sansa's bedside and lifted the quilt. He didn't try to be slow at all, and easily woke her up from her sleep. She held back a yelp with her own palm on her lips. Her faintly visible brows relaxed as soon as she recognized him.
"Y-Your Grace?" Sansa whispered loudly.
Joffrey removed the entire quilt from her body and proceeded to raise her sleeping gown from her ankles. He did it so fast that Sansa instinctively raised her hips, and then her back to let him do as he pleased.
No smallclothes. What a good girl you are, my Sansa.
Finally, he got down on the bed right atop her slender, slightly fleshy body. Her well-developed, nectar-filled breasts jutted out even in that dark. But he reached for her lips first. "Can't I come to taste my sweet Sansa?"
With butterflies in her stomach, Sansa blushed. She caressed his longer, dark blonde hair and smiled like a sculpted goddess. "You can… anytime, Joffr—um."
Joffrey didn't let her finish and gripped her succulent soft lips with his own driving, strong kiss. Oh, how long it had been since he made love to Sansa. He had almost forgotten how amazing it was to play with her docile body.
He broke off the kiss for a short moment and looked at Arya’s frame just an arm's length away.
"S-She might wake up," Sansa warned.
Joffrey already felt hard enough that his throbbing cock had slid between the tight gap of her thighs. His lips tingled to claim her filled breasts and claim the prize of entertaining her. "Don't worry. She exhausts herself daily with her pitiful training. She must sleep like a log."
"Hmm…" Sansa surrendered instantly to his desire and hugged him back before pulling his face down to her own lips. She parted her lips to let her beloved man enter and claim her like he had the right to. This was her duty, as taught by Septa Mordane. "Umm…"
What a delight.
Joffrey humped the gap between her thighs. His thickness was enough to make that gap feel tight, and long enough to tease her heating petals. His tongue picked up the pace of kissing her, coiling with her tender flesh and exchanging the heat of their bodies in the most intimate ways.
"Take me in your mouth." Joffrey stopped kissing her suddenly and eased his weight off her body. Like an obedient doll, Sansa shifted and sat up, letting Joffrey rest where she was before. Swiftly, she knelt between his legs, on her elbows, and gripped his royal cock.
Joffrey heaved an intense, long breath as soon as he felt her tender fingers clench around his girth. He was rather proud of his cock. But more than that, he loved this second life of his.
Uh… She's gotten better. He relaxed his body and let Sansa suckle his cock like her life depended on it. He knew her only desire at that moment was to pleasure him and win more of his love.
Arms folded under his head, he closed his eyes and just felt the warmth of her gyrating mouth on his length. Every time she drove down, the tight, soft clenches of her throat made him thrust up a little. Every time she pulled out, he loved her attention to his knob as her tongue circled around him.
Her warm, soft hands rubbed him profusely, stroking up and down, at times rubbing him like a cork, round and round. It was amazing, and yet another reminder why Sansa was one of the best investments he made.
"That's enough," Joffrey said, not even bothering to suppress his voice too much. "Ride on it."
He just didn't feel like doing a lot of work that night.
"Umh…" Sansa straddled Joffrey and raised herself high on his cock. Heaving breath, she grabbed his length from the front and aligned it with her tight, pale rosy slit. She didn't take it in quick and rather rubbed his knob across the length. Her voice had already begun to whimper in expectation of being filled by it.
"Ah!" She went down at last.
Joffrey opened his eyes and looked at her slender body. He gripped her waist and let her slowly ease down onto his length. He felt every little pushback from her tight walls as he speared further and further, against every bump and fold of her inside flesh.
"Aaaah~" Sansa shut her eyes once she felt him breach the deepest parts. Once sure she had taken all of him inside, she fell forward, only to support herself with her hands on his chest. "I-I… It's big."
"Because of you, Sansa," Joffrey cheekily replied and caressed her dangling breasts. "Move slowly."
"Um-hmm." Sansa raised her hips just a little. But then she slammed back down, feeling too sensitive to his heated cock. She unwittingly clamped her petals around him, feeling his size leaving her gaping wide inside.
However, she didn't give up and slowly raised herself higher each time. Soon enough, the continuous slides on his length made her delirious and her body took matters into its own hands. She leaned further forward and rode him like he was a real stallion. Long, deep plunges on him made his cockhead kiss her cervix each time and left her stretched.
"Ah, oooh… Joff… I love you!" She moaned in pure pleasure and passion. She looked down at his handsome face and fell more in love. She felt needed, loved, prized—the only man to ever be inside her, the only cock she had ever known. "I love this… mmmmh!"
Such words from my docile Sansa? Joffrey mused and gripped her peaks hard. He pulled her front further down so she could support herself on her elbows. At that time, he raised his head and took those full, filled, delicious taunt mounds in his lips. The sizable, tight nipples rolled between his lips in no time, and with a simple suckle, her nectar flowed.
Of course, he hated the taste of milk. But it was the act of doing it, making her leak with his mouth, that aroused him to the peak. He kneaded her shapely breasts to his need and gulped down whatever she had to offer.
"Aaaaah! Oh god! Yes, yessss~" Sansa reached cloud nine. Her leaps on his cock sped up and she lost herself to the thrilling bites over her nipples. Her mouth fell open in the heat of the moment, silent cries of pleasure as she lost her breath, her eyes lost and hazy.
Joffrey kept his breath paced while suckling her fantastic breasts. The satin smooth flesh on her chest was just otherworldly. But he wanted to last longer, so he let her ride till she reached her climax. Her frantic plunges made it evident, and her clamping insides tried to milk him dry.
"Mmmmmmmm~ Yes, yes… Yesss~" Sansa lost herself completely and couldn't control her voice.
She fell down on his chest, taking her breasts out of his mouth. Like a hungry wolf, she claimed Joffrey's mouth with her tongue and ate his lips as if he were the finest nectar. Her ass throbbed and slammed onto his cock, hilt deep, and spasmed like a shivering furnace. Her back arched and fell continuously with each wave of climax she rode. Her feminine release coated all of his length and more.
"Aaah…"
"My turn," Joffrey whispered into her ear after stopping the kiss. With his strong arms, he made her slide down from his chest. "Hands and knees."
"Hmmmh…" Sansa spoke nothing and did as he commanded. But she failed to use her hands to support her front, and merely slammed her face onto the pillow. That made her ass rise much higher on her knees, giving a wider, deeper, and easier access to Joffrey.
Don't ever change, my northern bride.
Joffrey didn't waste time and shoved himself deep in the first thrust. Palms spread on her brazenly exposed, pale bottom, and he wondered if it was time to claim the black hole too. However, once he glanced at Arya, he postponed that.
Feeling the heat are you? He smirked.
Arya was awake, turned sideways away from them. But he noticed her knees rubbing against each other. No doubt, her hands were somewhere between them too. I'll be even louder then.
"Ah, ah… ummmmmm~"
Joffrey picked up the pace to the extreme immediately. His thrusts clapped against her ass, loud and clear. Sansa’s mumbling moan couldn't be muffled even with her face on the pillow. He took pure delight in that messy situation and slapped her ass.
Pa!
"Aaaaah!"
Pa!
This is fantastic. Joffrey noticed Arya flinching when the slaps resounded. You'll be receiving these soon.
"Give me your hands," Joffrey commanded and gripped Sansa's wrists. Then, he pulled her body back, raising her front in the air, arching her back dangerously. That made each of his thrusts slam harder and deeper with her own body pushing back. It was heaven for him, pleasure for his cock and music to his ears.
"Oooooh~ Gods, you're… Joffrey… it's too much… she'll wake—aaaah!"
Joffrey didn't care and slammed himself harder. He felt his climax approaching very soon, and he couldn't wait to spill all of it inside his beloved woman.
"I'm close…" He said and let go of her wrists. As soon as Sansa slammed back into the bed, Joffrey leaned forward and began driving his cock downwards, slamming her hips into the bed and making everything perilously shake.
The deep, heated, wet squelches turned more audible as if he was drilling himself into a well, not a cunt. But perhaps this time it was as well, as he felt utterly drenched by her heated core. Sansa was perfect in all ways. He couldn't wait for her to turn into a fine ripe woman like her mother.
Too bad I can't fill her womb again. Not until I have Daenerys under control.
"Ugh!" Joffrey slammed harder into her raised hips. That made Sansa lie down flat on the bed, his cock sleeping deep inside. He gave her a few more rough thrusts before driving his full length in and laying flat on her entire backside, letting his balls pump out all the royal balm he had in store for her cunt.
It was heavenly. The sensation of that thick fluid traveling through his length and ejecting into her scorching warm insides. Pure bliss, no matter what others might have to say. He loved being the fucking King, and he loved the privileges that came with it.
"Take the Moon Tea," Joffrey whispered into her ear and slid away from her, landing in the middle of the bed.
He exhaled deeply, staring at the dimly lit ceiling.
Still naked, now limp, but utterly drenched, he gazed at Arya. She had stopped touching herself, so he acted like he was asleep. A few long moments passed, and Sansa was definitely in dreamland. But Arya had resumed rubbing her legs together.
Thank you for giving me a chance. Joffrey smirked and abruptly raised Arya's quilt. He got underneath it and hugged her tight, slender body from behind, slamming his slowly awakening cock on her shapely buttocks. She had grown ripe into an age to be married to some lord by now, but she had fallen into his hands.
He felt her body turn stiff as soon as he hugged her. His arm slid onto her waist and curved around her entire belly. He pulled her back into himself until he was sure she felt his heated cock against her ass.
"Joffrey…"
Joffrey didn't respond. Instead, he slid his hand down from her belly. With each inch down, his fingers danced and pulled up her gown from the front. More and more, he soon felt the humid heat on his fingers.
"Ummm…" Arya suppressed her lips with both her palms.
Joffrey chuckled and felt her loins for the first time. Before, he had only been in her mouth and seen her perky tits. But this time, he felt the flesh of her thighs, warm and soft, but toned. His palm brushed past her pubes, and they were noticeable.
In no time, his fingers slid between her clenched thighs and reached her virgin, tight flower. Oh, how insanely drenched she was. The ease at which he slid between her wet petals was otherworldly. But he remained alert not to push his finger inside. No, that honor was reserved for his cock only.
"Let me help, Arya," Joffrey whispered into her ear and dropped wet kisses on her nape. To feel her more, he gently slid his other arm under her neck and reached for her breasts from the front. He eased under the neckline of her nightgown and felt her tight buds atop the perky hills.
"Oh…" Arya had never felt such a thing before and lost herself to his touch. She didn’t hate this feeling but disliked the one giving them to her. But it was so… "Ummmh~"
Joffrey felt her to his heart's continent. He searched for her clitoris and after rubbing his fingers all over her tight, soaked entrance, he finally found it. The little hidden nub sent electric jolts across her body. Enough that she convulsed against his chest.
Oh? She's close? He mused. But it was understandable since she had been touching herself throughout his heated exchange with Sansa.
"Let it out… all of it," Joffrey whispered into her ears the entire time. Licking her lobes, kissing her everywhere on the neck. Unlike Sansa, he found Arya's charm in her fierce personality and her tight, warrior-like body. Although he preferred a beautiful, curvaceous warrior like Val, he couldn't deny Arya had a different flavorful charm.
"Oh!" Arya tried to say something, but only moans came out.
Joffrey rubbed her clitoris harder, circling and teasing with his wet finger, bringing her closer to climax. "How about I make you the first female knight in Westeros, Arya? Imagine the honor, the glory. All you have to do is join me in the battle in the Reach. Of course, the deal stays—best me in a duel, and you and Sansa are free to go."
"Ah, ummmmmmm~" She pressed her face as hard as she could and intensely convulsed against Joffrey's chest. Her hips thrust against his fingers on their own and before she knew it, an intense wave of wondrous pleasure drowned her mind, thoughts, and body.
Her breath rose and fell, the touch of his rough palm on her breasts felt so much hotter. She never realized that being touched by another person felt so different from her own. So wild and wonderful, she couldn’t explain it. A one-sided pleasure her whole mind could drown in.
She muffled her cries and let her body erupt in waves of pleasure. The sweet lava flowed, and she loved every second of it. Not new to climaxes, but this was something else… something far more pleasurable.
"Hah…" She finally relaxed her lips and breathed intensely.
Shamelessly, Joffrey still didn't stop pinching and playing with her tight nipples or remove his hand from her exciting cunt. "So, what's your answer?"
"You-uh…" Arya mumbled, still sensitive to his touch. Yet, she didn't remove his hands. "You just want to f-fuck me."
"I do," he replied and kissed her earlobe.
"Shameless." She barely scoffed, almost moaning. "I-I won't let you, Joffrey. I’ll beat you soon."
"I can't wait," he replied and pulled his hand away from her cunt and rested it on her waist. He pulled out his palm reaching for her breasts, and let that arm stay as her headrest. Following that, he just fell silent, as if trying to sleep in that extremely intimate state.
Surprisingly, Arya didn't push him away, or leave the bed. She, too, shut her eyes and relaxed in his embrace.
Joffrey smiled proudly at that. Arya was too entertaining to toy with. He liked that.
I can tell why that fat fuck was obsessed with Lyanna now.
####
That same night, in a bedchamber distant from Sansa's, Cersei downed goblet after goblet of fine wine. The frown on her face refused to vanish as she paced left and right inside the room. Not because of bad news, but because of the nausea she felt ever since morning.
"Ugh…" She suddenly rushed to a large, washing bowl and leaned into it. "Uwaaa…"
She felt her belly knot up and her insides try to come out of her mouth. Then, she vomited out all that she had drank in the last hours.
However, her lips grew a big smile amid that misery. Her eyes gleamed bright, and one of her hands reached for her belly, caressing it with pride, greed, love, and hope.
"Oh…" She stopped at last and fell back into a reclining chair. "Oh, Mother… Thank you for this blessing."
She caressed her belly continuously until her eyes fell heavy and sleep took her. The smile never left her lips.
Not even when the golden-haired Kingsguard, her brother, stared into her chamber that entire time. From the beginning to the end, from the pacing to the vomit, from her first word to her last word.
He watched everything, frozen in place, hand clenched on the hilt, his teeth gritting, and eyes furiously red.
Comments
DarkthShadow
Damn, Cersei NEEDS to be deltoid with, and soon.
Grey Jack
It is Jorah's fate to be forever cucked.
Grey Jack
Godamn this version of Cersei is horrid.
MrPlotThickens
Yeah, he's a simp. And knowing how possessive Joffrey is towards his women. Bro is doomed.
Asharzal
Honestly Jorah Mormont is scum. Him saying the Baratheons aren't to be trusted is rich, I hope he finds himself on the block in the not so far future.
