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GOT: The Golden Lion 21: The Poison, The Plan, The Promise
🕑 Added 2024-08-04 17:30:36 +0000 UTC"STOP!"
Joffrey smirked at Olenna Tyrel’s roar. He looked back at Margaery, her eyes were brimming with tears.
Then he looked back at Olenna and smiled even brighter.
Got you! You old bitch!
“What's the matter, Grandmother?” Joffrey inquired, his voice dripping with faux innocence. Yet his smirk and gleaming eyes revealed his true disdain. “Is it so scandalous for a husband to request that his wife join him for a goblet of wine?”
Absolute fear was visible in Olenna's eyes. They appeared sunken and horrified, her body shivering as she also noticed a smirk on Joffrey's lips.
“N-No, Your Grace. I was only recommending a fresh bottle of wine, a gift from my house—aged far longer than I,” Olenna said, casting a knowing glance at her grandson and giving him a brisk nod.
Joffrey chuckled, now certain the drink was poisoned. So he continued to raise the goblet closer to Margaery's face, refusing to release his grip in case she were to throw it. "Oh, don't be tedious, Grandmother. I see no reason to delay. Let us be finished with this folly. Come now, my dear, have a sip. You wouldn't want to disappoint your husband, would you?"
"I-I…" Margaery mumbled and felt the cold goblet touch her lips. On the verge of tears, she looked at her grandmother for support, her breath ragged and her face wrinkled to an ugly mess.
"Go on." Joffrey raised the end of the goblet. "Drink some."
"Stop! Stop this instant!" Olenna snapped as she strode around her table and approached Joffrey with a steely glare. "She can’t drink wine, not while she carries your child! Use what little sense you have left."
"Oh!" Joffrey exclaimed in false delight. "More a reason for celebration then! Now you have to take a sip, Margaery!"
"It can harm the babe!"
Joffrey sighed and looked back towards the table. Everyone had stood up and looked confused, but he gained a smirking nod from Tywin. That was enough to feel confident about his next course of action.
"Unusual!" Joffrey's voice rang out with a cruel edge, making sure all present could hear. "I've never seen you so restless, Lady Olenna. Perhaps you should sample the wine yourself to ensure it’s fit for Margaery."
"H-How could I, Your Grace? It's yours," Olenna stepped backward.
"Then Margaery should." Joffrey put the goblet back to Margaery's lips and this time grabbed her by the waist and forced her lips to part. He raised the end and began pouring the wine. "Go on, my love. Drink it and sweeten it for your beloved husband,"
"Ummgh… Nnnng!"
Margaery tried to protest but Joffrey was far too strong.
"No! No stop! It's poisoned!" Olenna cried and tried to grab Joffrey's arm to take away the goblet.
Thud!
But one push of Joffrey's shoulder was enough to throw the old woman to the ground. All the while he continued to feed Margaery the wine. Some of it spilled out, but he remembered only having drank a few sips, and Margaery was beyond that already.
Watch it, you old bitch. Watch your granddaughter die like you killed me! Joffrey burned with rage at that moment. The suffocating sensation was something that awoke him to this day at night. Watch as I end House Tyrell.
"Stop him! Loras! Stop this fool!"
Clank!
Loras Tyrell tried to unsheathe his sword, but Jaime Lannister standing beside him, was quicker and landed his blade on the flower knight's nape. Similarly, many more clanks and sliding of swords echoed as multiple Tyrell men got bested immediately, a sword to all their napes. Even to the fat oaf, Mace Tyrell's neck.
Joffrey finished forcing the wine down Margaery's throat and threw the goblet away with a cruel smile adorned on his lips. "Poison? Where did that come from? Wait, how did you know about the poison, Lady Olenna? Wasn't this goblet meant for me?! THE KING?!"
At that moment, Olenna understood everything. Her plan was bare right from the beginning and the King merely played her in her own game. The Queen of Thorns, filled with fear and regret, stared at her granddaughter in horror.
"Ghk… Aghk! W-water!" Margaery cried all of a sudden, clutching her throat as if something was stuck. Her face began turning purple, veins popping up while her eyes turned bloodshot.
Die, you smirking whore. Die as I did! If only you had been a good bedwarmer and birthed me heirs. Joffrey didn't even bother to give her support and let her fall down with a thud that cracked a wound on her skull. You chose this… Margaery Tyrell.
"Aaah… N-Ngho…"
Olenna dragged herself to her dying granddaughter while the rest couldn't move thanks to the swords on their napes. Joffrey, with his hands behind his back, watched Margaery die soon after—pained, agonized, wriggling, and suffocated.
"Sansa!" Joffrey bellowed right then and looked at his northern bride. He warmly smiled at her, as if telling her 'look, didn't I tell you it'll be fine?'. But he had a bigger reason for calling her name. "Come here?"
Broken in mind, and timid by nature, Sansa confusedly walked around the table and approached Joffrey. Their daughter was still in her arms, the little girl looked around at everything in amusement.
A great pair indeed. He smiled, noticing Arya walking behind Sansa as if she was guarding her older sister. I'll have you soon enough.
"Sansa, come closer. I want to see the necklace the traitors gifted you."
Shocked, she did as asked and let her 'husband in all but name' reach for her neck. She felt his fingers fidgeting around the necklace and soon stopped.
"As expected." He murmured. "Sansa, did that insipid Olenna dare to approach you at any point during the wedding today? Did she lay her foul hands on your necklace?"
Sansa thought for a moment and nodded strongly. "Y-Yes, Your Grace. She approached me before the cake cutting and touched the necklace."
"A bead is missing!" Joffrey roared, his eyes blazing as he turned to Olenna, wailing over Margaery's lifeless form. His gaze swept over the assembled crowd "I’m gratified that you all came to my wedding. But I'm afraid you will now have to stand witness to the trial of House Tyrell against the charge of high treason!"
Loud murmurs among the guests ensued.
Joffrey once again looked at his old grandfather and nodded firmly. "Guards! Seize every last one of these traitors at once! Lock them away in the Black Cells until their trial!"
Like a marching army, the men of his Golden Legion, adorned in the finest golden armors, helmets, and spears, alongside Lannister men, entered the venue and arrested every single Tyrell man, woman, soldier, and even the servants.
The joyous occasion turned into an intense political arena in an instant. King's Landing was immediately put on lockdown, and the word of Tyrell treachery was quickly spread throughout the populace. A riot-like situation arose from it, the loyalty and devotion to King Joffrey was at an all-time high.
The King who had healed the wounds of the poor. Made their lives better. Fed their bellies and got rid of the god-forsaken stench of the city. How could the smallfolk not feel affected? Joffery’s death could spell uncertainty for their future.
Joffrey had to come out and address the crowds of smallfolk directly, to calm their nerves. He relished the whole occasion, however. He remembered the riot in his past life, and in this life, the riot was in his adoration.
"My people!" Joffrey's voice cut through the murmur like a blade. "I am well, and the traitors now rot in the Black Cells! The treacherous whore that was Margaery Tyrell has met her end, her own poison the instrument of her demise. Justice shall be served! There shall be answers! And I won't stop until I have them both, even if I must go to war for them! Stand by me, and stand strong! Your king lives and stands stronger! The Seven have blessed us all! Celebrate this eve! Celebrate this blessing!"
With that, Joffrey turned back from the platform over the Red Keep's boundary wall and returned to the castle. He took the crown off his head and threw it at the nearest Kingsguard. Without stopping, he got rid of the cape that annoyed him, and finally, removed the high-heeled boots that made it difficult to walk.
Bam!
He stormed into the Small Council chamber. Everyone was already there, waiting for him. Thankfully, Tyrion had returned, understanding the seriousness of the matter.
"No need to stand up," Joffrey ordered and sat down. "I’m creating a new temporary position on the Small Council. My grandfather will be taking the place of Master of War. Any objections?"
Seeing everyone shaking their heads, he continued.“Uncle Tyrion, I demand to know the full extent of our gold reserves and how much more we can gather. Account for every last coin, and prepare for the direst of situations. Lord Varys, provide me with detailed reports on any notable troop movements within the Reach. Clegane, you’re entrusted with maintaining order in this city. Ensure that no idle gossip or trivial rumors are allowed to spread."
"Are we going to war, Your Grace?" Tyrion inquired.
Joffrey blew a long breath and glanced at Lord Redwyne, whom he was yet to address. "I trust it won’t come to that. Yet, if it must, I won't shy away from it. All of you may leave and start preparing."
The chairs dragged on the floor and all stood up.
"Not you, Lord Redwyne. I have something to discuss with you."
The thin, but tall, freckled, and orange-haired Lord stopped and sat down in his seat again. The discomfort on his face was as apparent as the sun in the sky that day.
But Joffrey proceeded calmly and poured the man a goblet of wine. However, as expected, nobody wanted to touch wine that day.
"Lord Paxter Redwyne," Joffrey started. "The Hightowers are still in decline. Tyrells have led themselves to ruin. That leaves only one major power in Reach, unmatched wealth—two hundred warships, five times merchant carracks—the largest fleet in Westeros. Tell me, Lord Redwyne, are you close with Mace? After all, you wedded his sister. I should imagine today's events struck a rather personal chord, wouldn't you say?”
Paxter Redwyne spoke with a measured tone, each word carefully chosen. "N-No, Your Grace. I am married to his sister, yet we aren’t closely acquainted. My house resides upon an island, and thus opportunities for intimacy have always been scarce."
"That's unfortunate," Joffrey mumbled as if reminiscing. "The Tyrells grew too bold for their own good. From the very moment my betrothal to Margaery was declared, we became… intimate. I had insisted she forgo Moon Tea, hoping she would bear me a son. But while I was away, waging war in the North, she had the audacity to pursue Tommen. I suppose I can understand her choice; Tommen is much more… malleable."
Paxter grew more impatient the more Joffrey spoke. He felt as if a sword hung over his neck constantly. Who knew the King might implicate him in the conspiracy?
"That's treasonous, Your Grace."
"It is," Joffrey replied and stood up abruptly. He gave the Lord of Arbor a smile. "You're a good, loyal man, Lord Paxter. Don't you have two sons?"
"Twins," Paxter answered.
Joffrey nodded and started walking away lazily. “Ah, if only you were the Lord Paramount of the Mander, the Warden of the South,” he said with a mocking tone. “Then perhaps you might have deigned to aid your second son in establishing a new house. But alas, you are nothing more than a minor lord, and thus, irrelevant.”
Paxter gulped and stared at Joffrey’s fleeting back. There wasn’t much time to make a decision.
"W-What will be needed from me, Your Grace?"
"Hm?" Joffrey turned back right then, smiling. "Nothing much. Just…"
####
Joffrey walked into his solar right after the Small Council meeting. He shut the door behind him and soon relaxed down in his chair, slumping a little and closing his eyes. He felt like shouting and cheering for the job well done. But he sadly had no such luxury.
That leaves us the Dorne and the Iron Islands. Joffrey looked at his table, a map of Westeros was etched on it with various sigils of houses added to it. He stared at it from North to South and nodded in great satisfaction.
"Your Grace." A Kingsguard voiced from outside. "Lady Sansa has come to see you."
Ah, my beautiful northern bride. Here to reward me? Joffrey straightened his back, willing to see her beautiful face. "Let her in."
Timidly, Sansa walked into the solar.
"Lock the door," Joffrey ordered.
Sansa did as asked and turned back to the closed door to put the latch in place. "Ah!"
Joffrey chuckled at her yelp as he captured her from behind like a lion on the hunt. His arms slid around her soft belly and pulled her in, while his lips landed on her pale, inviting neck. "I kept my promise, Sansa."
"Your Grace." Sansa tried to turn around while in his embrace.
Joffrey allowed her and noticed her worried expression. But in all honesty, he admired her beauty as well. Ever since she birthed Joanna, the glow on Sansa's face hadn't vanished. Previously thin and very lithe, she now had more refined curves while still slim, and her bust was fuller. It's good to be a king.
"Not happy with it?"
She shook her head frantically, her eyes wide and earnest. "No, no, Your Grace. I-I am so relieved that you’re safe and that her wicked plans didn't succeed. I just… I just wanted to tell you that I never knew the necklace had poison in it."
She's worried I'll blame her? Oh, Sansa, you never fail to serve yourself to me on a golden platter. Joffrey erased the smile off his face and pressed her body against the door behind her, squeezing her, his hands already cupping her ass.
"Hmm… But the poison was still found on you," Joffrey leaned into her, bringing his lips to her ears, feeling her nectar-filled breasts against his chest. Both his hands squeezed hard on her soft, feather-like bottom. "You were an essential pawn in the assassination plot."
"Y-Your…"
Joffrey smiled beside her ear, feeling her body shiver against his own. Oh, how much he relished in playing with her. Feeling her all over and draping her sweet, warm neck with wet kisses.
"How am I to punish you, my Sansa?" He asked, finding it convenient that she was still wearing the dress from the wedding. Its deep, wide-cut neckline gave him plenty of liberties. The best part, it was held by merely two hooks on her front.
"Umh… Your Grace…" Sansa felt his heated touch, noticing something probe right below her belly. "A-As you deem fit."
Docile and obedient. Joffrey loved this aspect about her. This is why you're one of my favorites, Sansa.
"Hmm… What if I want to do…" His hands moved fast, tracing upward to her waist, then returning to the front. He made some space between them and opened the two hooks at the front. Without waiting, his hand slid into her dress and captured her soft, swollen breasts. Albeit covered under small clothes, the tenderness felt otherworldly. "This?"
"Oooh…" Sansa gasped at his touch, his palm clasped one of her breasts and squeezed until it leaked. "I… Y-You can… Your Grace."
I know, Sansa. I know… But hearing it from you. Joffrey kissed her lips this time, loving the fact that she was tall enough that it didn't require him to lean down too much. Sweet.
Her utter surrender to him became evident as Joffrey slipped his tongue between her warm, silken lips. His delight heightened when her responses matched his and kissed him back. Faces twisted left and right, pushing and tugging. Their breaths mingled, and Joffrey lost himself in that warmth—the mouth only he could access and at times, fuck.
There was pleasure in whores, but girls like Sansa made Joffrey hungry to feast. His cock sprang to life and probed around her pelvis hard. Yet he wasn't done, not until he fully tasted her.
He moved away from her lips and reached down to her long, pale neck. Showering kisses there, he continued to fondle her breasts, with both hands by now. In doing so, he pushed up her small clothes and claimed her ripe flesh in all their glory.
Lower and lower, Joffrey's lips reached her delicate shoulders, and yet he continued. Soon, he felt the softness of her heaving breasts, and in no time claimed her perky, taut nipples between his lips. His hands cupped them both from the underside, molding the swollen flesh with his palms.
"Aaaah! Mmm…." Sansa squirmed when Joffrey suckled hard on one. Her hands moved on their own and lovingly captured Joffrey's head, fingers tangling through his golden locks. Her body arched backward to rest on the door while Joffrey continued to suckle her breasts with fervor.
Groping them, mauling them to his desired sensitivity, and squeezing them dry until he could feel his throat brimming with the creamy texture of her nectar. Of course, he owned them, and this was his to relish. Sansa was his, and all of her too—that was why Joffrey held her close to heart and cock both.
"And this?"
"Oh!" Sansa bit her lips and nodded. "A-All yours… Mmmh!"
Joffrey chuckled and continued to suckle her breasts dry. Much of the nectar spilled from his lips, but most of it went down to soak his dry lips. No, he didn't like the taste, but the act of doing it, and knowing where it came from made him hard as steel. So much that his lips squeeze the pebble-like nipples intensely, all the while kneading both breasts.
Sansa squirmed the entire time, trying her best to suppress her moans. But her wriggling body was evidence enough of her arousal. Her sensitive spots were being played by her King, and she loved it.
Joffrey eventually grew bored of suckling her breasts, however.
Feeling quite adventurous that day, he tried to reach further down to even taste Sansa's cunt. Sadly, to do that the entire dress needed to be removed.
"On your knees." Joffrey straightened up finally and began lowering his breeches to free his aching erection. "Use your tits too."
Those crass words were shameful for Sansa, but teasing and exciting for Joffrey. He saw not an ounce of refusal from the redhead as she dropped to her knees instantly. Completely devoted to her King, she kept herself high and finally pressed her cleavage forward on his exposed, throbbing length.
Heaven. The cloud-like silky softness was just something else. Joffrey even widened his legs to bring himself to a more comfortable level for her.
"Like this, Your Grace?" Sansa asked, staring up at his face with her innocent eyes.
That made Joffrey doubt if she was really naive or just acting that way. Or perhaps she had learned how to please him by now. "Go on… Be fast."
"Umm…" Sansa threw her face down and started taking Joffrey's cockhead in her mouth whenever it peeked out of the valley. Her breasts, albeit not big, did enough to send waves of shuddering pleasure down the King's spine.
"Mmmm~"
"Keep it up!" Joffrey began thrusting to match the pace and help her. It was a mess down there around his cock, sticky and wet from Sansa's spit and her leaking nurturing milk mixing well into a thick cream. "M-Mouth… take it in your mouth!"
Knowing anyone might come and ruin this moment, he tried to do it fast. With both hands, he grabbed her neatly done hair tight, made into a nest of braids on the top, while two thick braids fell on each side of her shoulder.
Uncaring, he thrust into her mouth, invading her throat with her own sticky milk and spit coating his cock. It aroused him to no end. Each gagging squeeze of her throat made it feel hotter. Looking down at the mess of Sansa's face made it exciting. I own this… Face—fuck! Ugh!
Tingles of pleasure tickled his scalp. Joffrey struggled to shove all of his cock into her mouth but still pushed through. He may not have Robert's blood, but he knew he was bigger than most would expect from a man of his size. "More…!"
At his order, Sansa tried to push her face on his length. Even at the cost of choking herself, she complied and took all but an inch of his need.
"Close! Mh!" Joffrey groaned. A side of himself he only showed to a few women. Breathing like a racehorse, he fucked her face harder, each thrust earning a gurgling echo from her mouth. "Tighter!"
Just one word. One order. Sansa squeezed her lips tighter around him. The pleasure heightened, and the sensation of her warm lips on his veiny girth with each thrust tickled his balls into action.
"Ugh! There….!" Joffrey groaned and thrust forward one last time and planted himself deep in her throat. But there he continued small thrusts, bursting out a thick creamy load right there. Shot after shot, he filled her to the brim, and as he pulled back slowly, she snorted out, making a mess out of her nose that leaked more of his cream. "Swallow! Don't make a mess!"
I wish… hah, I could paint this memory. Joffrey kept on thrusting and fucking her face while admiring the ruined makeup on her face. The leaking and dribbling white residue around her lips was just too hot to look at. Like a mark of his territory.
Seeing her like this also stroked his hunger at times. He often wondered, How would it feel to bed all three Stark women together?
Food for thought, no doubt. A dream that he knew was achievable as long as he took slow and steady steps.
What a sight. Watching her gulp while he continued to slide in and out of her 'o'-shaped lips was too much. He could feel a second erection was not far away, and this time it'd need more than a mouth. Sadly, there was no time for it.
"Oh, Sansa." He finally pulled out of her lips and leaned down. He left a short, loving peck on her clean forehead. "I was never angry at you. How can I ever be angry at my first love?"
A dose of fear followed by a dose of love. That was how Joffrey planned to keep Sansa all for himself.
"Joffrey." Sansa took his name, a sign of her love. But her brows furrowed next. "W-Why don't we get married?"
Ugh, asking this now? Great way to ruin my mood. Joffrey internally sneered but kept a smile outside. He caressed her hair and made a sorrowful face. "Sansa, if it were up to me I'd marry you right now and put another babe in your womb. We wouldn't leave our bedchambers for days."
"Then why?" She insisted, asking.
Keeping himself under control, Joffrey finally knelt down to her level and tore a small, dry piece of fabric from her small clothes above the breasts. Then, he wiped her breasts, slowly going up to her face. "The realm is unstable, Sansa. The last Targaryen king left the realm broken, and my father left the realm bankrupt. The crown is weak and surrounded by enemies."
"But… You have the support of the North, the Vale, and…"
Joffrey shut her up by cleaning her lips and the rest of her face. "Dorne and the Iron Islands are still not under control… Until they are, I… Forgive me, Sana. I love you, but I must love my people too. Plenty have died in rebellions and wars, I can't let them suffer more."
What was Sansa's ideal man? A knight in shining armor. A man of honor and virtue. One who upholds his duty. In that case, Joffrey was a king willing to serve the realm rather than embrace the vice of sexual pleasures. A man more focused on serving the realm than drowning himself in her royal cunt.
Wasn't such a man worth respecting?
Joffrey knew her too well, and sure enough, saw pride in her flickering eyes. You're too easy, Sansa.
"Then…" Sansa stood up and fixed her clothes. "Will you be visiting tonight?"
So you can send Arya away?
"I'm afraid I can't, Sansa. A possibility of war looms, and I must do all I can to avoid it." Joffrey helped her tie the hooks on the front of her dress and then kissed her face, avoiding the lips. "But I will visit soon."
Knock! Knock!
"Your Grace, Lord Tywin seeks an audience."
Brilliant timing, Grandfather. Joffrey nodded at Sansa.
As Joffrey walked back to his seat, Sansa opened the door to leave. Shyly, she greeted Tywin and walked away as quickly as she could. Those with half a brain already knew what had happened in the room.
"Grandfather." He greeted the old lion.
As dignified as ever, Tywin walked in and took a seat without saying a word. He looked at the table where the map of Westeros was carved. Noticing a distinct lion emblem beside the sigils of liege lords filled him with pride. All of those signified the houses that Joffrey had subdued.
"Have you met with my and Sansa's daughter?" Joffrey asked.
Tywin shook his head. "Not yet. But I have heard the name."
"Forgive me for not asking you beforehand. But seeing her… I couldn't help but imagine grandmother." Joffrey did what he knew best. Play with emotions.
"Are you planning on marrying Sansa?" Tywin asked.
Joffrey just smirked and looked at the North on the map on the table. Then, he picked a small, wooden lion emblem and placed it on the sigil of House Stark itself. "I see no such need when I have already harvested the field."
Then, Joffrey put the lion emblem on House Arryn of Vale's sigil. "Robert Arryn, to this day, lives in the Red Keep and learns how to 'rule'."
Next, Joffrey removed and placed the lion on the fish sigil of House Tully. "The Riverlands… Tricky, but the likes of Edmure are bound to make way for a more… suitable choice."
Crownlands was already marked with a lion, and so was the Westerlands.
"Not a Stag?" Tywin asked, noticing the peculiarity.
Joffrey chuckled and relaxed back in his seat like a King. "Outside this chamber, I'm a Stag. But in here, I consider myself a lion, Grandfather."
There was a moment of long silence after that. Tywin Lannister looked towards the window on the side as a faint smile emerged on his lips. But he quickly removed it and looked at Joffrey with pride that threatened to burst from his chest.
"What do you plan to do with the Reach? Margaery could have been the key to securing it under your command," Tywin asked. A man who usually gave orders had a few too many questions that day.
Joffrey scoffed and landed another lion emblem on Highgarden. But then he grabbed another emblem, one marked with a cluster of grapes. "With the Tyrells? I'm afraid we'd have lost King's Landing itself. Tyrells held too much ambition, and other than trying to kill me, that smirking whore tried to seduce Tommen while I was away."
Tywin frowned for a short moment, unaware that such a thing had occurred. But he truly smiled when he saw the sigil of grapes. If what he felt was pride before, now it was admiration. Finally, a Lannister who could think ten steps ahead.
"House Redwyne?" Asked Tywin.
“They are the strongest in the Reach for now. I’ve always sought to diminish Tyrell's sway, so I appointed Lord Paxter as my Master of Ships. Now, he shall be Lord Paramount of the Mander,” Joffrey revealed and answered the next question Tywin was going to ask. “As for Highgarden, what better revenge could there be than to have Tommen inherit it? Lord Paxter has most obligingly consented.”
"Hah…" Tywin Lannister, the cold, old lion, sighed and relaxed back in his seat. In silence, he stared at his grandson's face. "Ingenious! With the sacrifice of the Mountain, Dorne has no grounds to remain hostile, no matter the condition Oberyn is in. That leaves only the Iron Islands."
Joffrey's lips curved into a cruel smile. "It seems you’ve forgotten, Grandfather, who it was that I so graciously dragged from the North. Theon Greyjoy remains in my custody, and my most loyal servants are ensuring his 'education' is thorough. Soon enough, he’ll be freed—a fire that shall spread from within."
Tywin couldn't remember when was the last time he was this speechless at anything. Somehow, his grandson had layers upon layers of plots that simply couldn't be noticed if not seen from a bird's eye. And he had no doubt there was a lot more than what his grandson was willing to tell him.
"So you’ll have the entire Seven Kingdoms in your grasp."
Joffrey didn't smile at that, instead frowned. "But not enough to satisfy me."
One of the old lion's brows arose in curiosity. "The reason?"
"The crown is poor," Joffrey replied and pointed at the map on the table. He focused eastwards, where only two Essos cities were marked. "I want to take Tyrosh and Lys as the Crown's property."
Skrrr!
Tywin stood up from his chair and looked at the table with more focus. The more he thought, the more sense it made. With the Redwyne fleet, Lannister Fleet, and the under-construction Crown's Feet, taking the two cities wouldn't be an issue.
"There will be local opposition from Free Cities."
Joffrey scoffed and also stood up. "It's the opposite. Thanks to a certain someone's help, I have local support instead. Would you like to hear the plan?"
Of course, you would, you greedy old bastard. The Lannister mines are as barren as your heart. This is the best chance to earn gold.
"As long as House Lannister can play a role."
Joffrey welcomed that. "There’s enough meat for everyone, Grandfather."
"I'm all ears."
"So…"
####
Joffrey explained his plans in detail to the old lion. Hours passed, and by the time evening came, Tywin was more impressed than he was proud of himself. So many times he professed his displeasure that Joffrey couldn't be the heir to the House Lannister.
Eventually, Tywin left to prepare to help his grandson destroy House Tyrell to the last member. Finally, Tywin felt excitement in old bones again. Just imagining the songs that would be sung to remember the destruction of House Tyrell made him proud.
But Joffrey held no such petty desires. Sure, it was exciting, but nothing felt joyous when he knew the danger of the Others was creeping closer from the North. And to truly deal with that danger, he needed three big lizards that could spew fire.
So yet again, he sat down and began writing a letter to his self-proclaimed best friend, Daenerys Targaryen. This one was long, filled with his achievements, his admiration, and plenty of quips.
Of course, it felt humiliating. To act so unashamedly, and cowardly towards the so-called Mother of Dragons. But again, not dying at the hands of the Others was a higher priority.
Soon enough, night fell and most of the Red Keep dwellers returned to their bedchambers after dinner. Joffrey skipped eating, scared of vomiting it out for he had something planned for the night that knotted his guts.
Holding a small, leather bag, he left his solar and made his way through the dark corridors of the castle. Each step felt repulsive, but he felt he had to do it.
Finally, he stopped in front of a decorated and carved door. "Is she inside?"
The lone Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, nodded. "She is."
Joffrey made a sullen face, eyes down as he stepped forward to push open the door. "Good night, Uncle Jaime."
"Joff… Your Grace," Jaime suddenly grabbed him by his shoulder. "You don't have to do this."
Joffrey stood there frozen but didn't look back. Willingly, he made his body shiver, as if afraid. Then, he pushed Jaime's hand away and walked into the bedchamber. He shut it back quickly after but didn't fully lock it with the latch.
"Umm hmm… mmm…"
Humming? He heard a feminine, happy singing voice from inside. Of course, she's celebrating. The smirking whore is dead, after all.
"Mother?" He called for her, sounding as innocent as he could. Right then he noticed Cersei lying sideways on the bed, a goblet of wine in her hand, her body only covered with a thin, red gown that was almost see-through.
"Joff?!" Cersei perked up and gleamed at the sight of her son walking towards her. "Oh, my sweetling. What happened? Couldn't sleep?"
Ugh… How old does she think I am? Just this ones… One last time.
He walked closer and closer to her bed, watching her get up. She didn't look tipsy, meaning she wasn't drunk. Even better, he thought. "Mother, you said I can ask you for anything."
Cersei smiled brightly, her hair loose, uncaring about her attire. She thanked her luck that she chose to wear this gown. She tip-toed towards him and softly caressed the side of his face. "How can I ever forget, my golden lion? I’m the one who will always go to any lengths for you… anything you could ever need."
Joffrey avoided looking into her eyes, revealing a hint of hesitation. But damned be his cock, the sight of her revealing cleavage between those voluptuous breasts made him hard. "I-I can't go out as the city is in lockdown, so is the Red Keep and…"
"Oh, my sweetling." Cersei tried to coddle him and stepped closer to him until her breasts barely pressed against his lower chest. Her green eyes, slightly intoxicated, looked up and into his eyes. "Where were you planning to go?"
"T-To… Chataya's brothel."
Cersei felt confused. "Then… How can I help, dear?"
"I just… You said anything so…" Joffrey scoffed internally before replying. "I… I want to fuck a whore!"
"What?!" Cersei froze, shocked and appalled, eyes horrified. A very long moment of silence persisted between them.
But when she noticed Joffrey stepping back, she smiled and changed into a sultry vixen. Her hand quickly reached for his chest, palm spread, and felt his muscles. From there, she caressed down until she felt his hardened manhood under her touch.
"I-I'm sorry, Mother. I shouldn't ha—" Joffrey still tried to step back, but Cersei followed his steps and maintained the touch.
"Can you afford me? I can be very… expensive," The tone of her voice turned playfully sultry.
“What? You?!” Joffrey looked up at her face, shock and excitement written over his own. A whore indeed.
“Of course, my darling. You can’t go out… But you still have me. As I said, anything, for my Joff.”
Quickly, he fidgeted into the leather pouch he had brought and took out a silk pouch of gold. He shook it to make it clank. "I-I was prepared."
At that moment, Cersei realized her son was truly serious, and this was her chance to make him her own. No, she felt no shame, but rather triumph. At last, she had her son, the King, under her thumb. And all it took was access to her cunt.
"Ummm…" She moaned seductively, stepped backward, and let herself fall down on the bed, her breasts jiggling wildly. Then she raised her knees and parted them, herself pulling up the thin gown to give him a better look of her pale, somewhat aged, but still heavenly soft, and refined thighs.
"Then… have your way, my King," she invited.
But Joffrey didn't even look at her small-clothe-covered cunt. Instead, he fiddled in his leather pouch and took something out.
"Moth—I mean, Cersei, can I put this on you?" he asked, making puppy eyes. "Fucking you will be so much amazing with this."
Cersei's eyes narrowed with a tinge of anger and shame. For a woman who liked to be in control, this was too much.
"I-Is that a collar, my King?"
“And a leash, Mothe—Cersei.”
___________________
A/N: Oh boy, ending the scene here. This will be the last sexual exchange between Joffrey and Cersei, so it's gonna be long and rough.
The art [Joffrey X Cersei] I posted some weeks ago was related to this chapter.
Comments
MrPlotThickens
It was mentioned in the exchange with Tywin.
Goxo
Please remind me but have you mentioned the plot point of the Lannister gold mines being empty or is that not a thing in this story.
MrPlotThickens
Thank you for reading. Glad you like em.
Robert Brown
So keep up the great work!
Robert Brown
Thanks for the chapter! I'm really enjoying this fanfic, in fact it was this fanfic that got me hooked to the point that subscribed to your patreon in first place....and now I have taken a liking to your other fanfics as well.
