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GOT: The Golden Lion 25: Tully, Tyrells & Taming
🕑 Added 2024-09-18 14:14:40 +0000 UTCThat night, Joffrey slept well, without any woman to accompany him. Knowing he had a son from Catelyn brought great joy and much-needed relaxation to his nerves. Ever since Margaery ruined his plan and things got delayed, he had been on his toes.
But now, with his blood running through the veins of the future Lord of Winterfell, he truly had the North under his rule. All that remained now was Dorne's acknowledgment, and subjugation of the Iron Islands using Theon.
If things work out, my blood will rule the Seven Kingdoms for centuries to come. Joffrey thought fondly.
It was a truly wonderful night.
####
It was the day Joffrey was to march West towards the Reach. But he had to act like a regal King even if he was tired.
So, once he had freshened up, gotten his cock sucked by Mhaegan in the bath, and donned the finest clothes for the journey, he arrived at the Throne Room to hold a short court session to deal with a few important matters.
Crown on his head, Tyrion standing beside him, he went through various nobles and smallfolk coming there to make appeals. As usual, all appeals were petty, or some feud between small noble houses. Most nobles thought that if they had the King on their side they'd have a heavier hand.
Too bad, Joffrey never took any sides. Instead, he always sent one free Kingsguard to go investigate and report back. That way, even the house making the plea could end up being punished in the end.
"Next on the list is Ser Brynden Tully, accompanied by his lordly nephew, Edmure Tully—future Lord Paramount of the Trident," Tyrion read the list in his hands and sighed. His eyes flickered to Joffrey, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Tyrion saw a shadow of Tywin’s cunningness in the boy—only with far more malice and none of the restraint. Joffrey’s slow plot against Edmure had been months in the making, and the boy had savored every moment of it.
Tyrion offered a tight smile. “Congratulations, Your Grace,”
Joffrey gave a soft smile and merely nodded, watching the famed Knight and the foolish Edmure walk into the hall. Seeing how timid Edmure looked in that room, even refusing to look up, made him secretly sneer.
How could something like this be related to Catelyn? Ah, there was that bitch Lysa too.
"Welcome to King's Landing, Ser Brynden," Joffrey greeted the knight only.
Brynden knelt like a knight and saluted the King. "Thank you for seeing us, Your Grace. I come today to seek your aid in resolving this unpleasant matter."
Joffrey raised his chin and nodded. "How can the crown be of help to you?"
"My…" Brynden felt ashamed to even say it. It was a great wound to the dignity of his house. "My nephew has stumbled into a debt too vast for him to repay. His own folly, I admit, but the wars we’ve fought have drained every last coin from our coffers. Your Grace, I ask for aid—though it pains me to do so."
Joffrey amusedly eyed Edmure. Of course, he knew about the days the man had spent in Flea Bottom. Varys never failed to inform him of the details.
However, how could he not humiliate the man when he had the chance to?
"Is that so? Lord Edmure, what did you do to fall into such a debt?" Joffrey asked.
"Your Grace, he—"
Joffrey waved his hand dismissively, eyes narrowing at Brynden Tully. "It’s his debt, Ser. Let him talk. I want to hear what he’s done; How am I to pass my judgment fairly otherwise?"
Brynden Tully glared at his nephew and nudged him with his hand to start speaking.
It wasn’t fear but shame that was eating Edmure Tully. The court wasn't crowded, but there were enough people that the matter would get out soon enough and spread to every corner of the realm.
"I… I came to King's Landing for your marriage, Your Grace, and… well, I visited Chataya's establishment," Edmure clenched his fist. "I… bedded some of the women and drank more than my share of wine. It’s all a blur, but when I woke the next day, the sun was high and… there were empty bottles everywhere. Women, too, scattered across the bed."
Joffrey let the crowd murmur for a long moment. He very much wanted to simmer the stew before extinguishing the fire.
"Ah, you're a bold one, aren't you? It's no surprise, really—Chataya's establishment does have its allure. So tell me, which of her women did you manage to bed that night?" Joffrey asked.
Edmure looked down in further shame. "I-I don't know their names but… there were two Summer Isles’ women and a few others."
No! He bedded the mother and daughter at the same time? Even I haven't done that yet! This is insanity! This is treason! Joffrey's eyes twitched, his glare hardening on the debt-ridden lord. I was going to erase that debt, but no more! I'll drain your blood until you're dead, bastard…
Indeed, Joffrey Baratheon may have perfectly changed his reputation for the good, but deep down he remained one petty King who was as greedy for his desired cunt as he was for the treasured gold. At that point, he was more of a dragon than a lion.
"What an appetite!" Joffrey exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Very well, in recognition of your status, the crown cannot ignore you. I shall grant House Tully a loan, to be repaid over the next thirty years at a leisurely pace. Moreover, with House Frey rightfully disbanded and you still unmarried, I suggest that you wed one of the Lannister ladies. I have an ample number of cousins to choose from."
Edmure looked at his uncle's face. The King's suggestion was too grand and needed further discussion. However, both knew that the King was going to leave for the Reach that same day. This was the only time they had.
"Do you accept these terms?" Joffrey asked again, pushing them to make up their mind right away.
"We accept." Brynden voiced on Edmure's behest.
House Tully was at its weakest right now, after all. Joffrey had a lot of influence on Vale, the North, and other kingdoms that surrounded the Riverlands. Refusing the King now was akin to giving away the title of Lord Paramount.
Joffrey, his smirk widening, clapped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Tyrion. "Uncle, see to it that all the contracts are arranged properly. In these times, every detail must be recorded and sealed with the proper stamps."
Joffrey had no desire to leave any loopholes for the fish fuckers.
"I'll take care of it, Your Grace,” Tyrion replied.
With that, Joffrey got up to leave the Throne Room. But instead of going to the armory and getting fitted in his armor, he went to his solar to finish up the last few things. A new raven had arrived, this one from across the Narrow Sea. He really wanted to see what the contents were.
He sat down comfortably in his chair and noticed the Targaryen seal on the folded sheets of paper. He scoffed and cut it away before unwrapping the papers. But to his surprise, the first thing he saw was a whole-page portrait of Daenerys.
"Seven hells! It worked!" Joffrey clenched the paper hard. He really had no hope of succeeding, but receiving this portrait meant he had forged a place for himself in Daenerys' mind or possibly heart too.
She was beautiful, to say the least. Extremely beautiful, in fact. It was somewhat of a side profile from her chest up to her charming face, her white hair in a thick braid going down her back, a little messy as if she had just woken up. Her gown was white, the neck was a deep, V-shape. Her face was soft and serene, with no smile, and yet lovely. The striking purple eyes gained his attention.
"Isn't this too beautiful?" He mumbled, a little doubtful. He expected her to be ruined by now after living in the warm, dry Essos and going through the hell that was her life. "Did she fake this? Like how I added a few extra muscles on mine?"
It was highly possible that the portrait was an exaggeration.
"But if she does look like this…"
Joffrey rubbed his chin and put the portrait down to read the letter. This was the very first that he had received from Daenerys, after all.
‘My self-appointed good friend from across the sea. I have received your words and read them well. Your insight into governance has amused me and intrigued me. I have decided to spare you when I approach King's Landing to take what is rightfully mine. Until then, I’ll allow you to rule in my stead.
Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion were shown your portraits. Drogon devoured it, however. They do not have much liking for blonde hair, it appears. I suggest you simply leave King's Landing when you see my dragons cast a shadow on the Red Keep…
I hope you heed my word, from Daenerys Targaryen, The First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.’
"This bitch!" Joffrey seethed, his fingers crushing the paper into a crumpled mess. "She dares to command me? This harlot, with her pitiful reptiles! Rightful? What right does she speak of? Has she any inkling of the monstrosity her father was?"
One thing was clear to Joffrey in that instant. Daenerys was a delusional fool surrounded by Yes-men who spoke only what she wanted to hear. She had no idea about Westeros, its culture, or its history, only knowing that her House was supposed to be great and rule the Seven Kingdoms.
"Targaryen blood is the blood of invaders. If she desires what’s rightfully hers, why not take that wretched Valyria and claim it for herself."
He slammed his fist on the table and looked back at the portrait of her. Links were being made in his mind, new goals were being set. Being able to subdue this Targaryen whore was key to securing his bloodline on the throne.
I'll give you a throne alright… Right on my cock.
####
After finishing his work, Joffrey went to find Sansa to fondle her fine, full tits and play with his daughter for a while to refresh his mood. Then, he went straight to the armory and donned his light armor.
It was finally time to march to Highgarden.
"Your Grace, warhammer or the sword?" Val asked, having already donned her amazing new armor that was curved in ways to ensure one could quickly see that she was one fine woman.
"Both," Joffrey replied, letting the servants tie his armor pieces all over. "Keep the sword on my horse."
"Your Grace, the Golden Legion is ready." Came Ser Arthur, the commander of the Unsullied. The man wore fine golden armor now with a luxurious cape on his back.
"And the instruments?"
"They're prepared," Ser Arthur answered.
I hope they don't resist too much. I don't want to ruin that fine castle. I can use it for recreational purposes. Joffrey thought, already planning on how to savor the victory later.
"Let's go then."
Finally done, Joffrey took his sword from Val and walked out of the armory. He marched out of the Red Keep and got on his white horse. Behind him, six Kingsguards and Ser Arthur followed close, all headed out of King's Landing to meet the army already gathered outside the King's Gate.
In a fine surprise, the smallfolk waved at Joffrey's leaving figure, and some even threw flowers at him. In their eyes, he was no different from a savior who protected them, fed them, and now even conquered the evildoers.
Uncle Tyrion must have worked overtime to get the masses this excited. Joffrey had no delusions. He knew this was the work of a well-planned spread of gossip.
"King Joffrey!"
"King Joffrey!"
They roared his name as soon as he raised his fist to boost morale. To the people, it may seem like he was going to a tough battle. In reality, Joffrey already knew he had won. Sure, the two Tyrells still in Highgarden might be able to gather ten thousand men on their own, but he had his might and the might of the Lannisters combined.
I can't wait to return and celebrate copiously.
Just like that, uninterrupted, Joffrey galloped out of the city and arrived outside the King's Gate. The modest Crownlands army of five thousand, Stormland army of four thousand, and three thousand men of the Golden Legion came into his view soon enough, standing in perfect formations to start marching.
Of course, he could have mustered ten to fifteen thousand men from the Crownlands itself, but he didn't need that many as it would have meant more expenditure. Heck, if he wanted to go overboard, he could have called for all of Stormlands to gather up, and that would have swelled up his full army to over sixty thousand men.
That number was simply too much for a measly single House on the verge of excision. Besides, the siege of Highgarden was merely the beginning.
There she is. Joffrey noticed Arya at the front of the army on a lone horse. She too, had received light armor, but not as refined as Val since Arya's whole style was speed.
"There's my soon-to-be first female knight of Westeros." Joffrey teased her at the first chance.
Arya kept herself from disrespecting him in front of so many people and looked away. "I joined because you asked… Your Grace."
Joffrey chuckled. "I trust you'll manage to keep me safe in the battles to come."
With that, Joffrey turned around to look at the army. He raised his sword and gave a very short warcry before turning around and starting the march. This time he took no luxurious carriage for himself, only a horse. The road towards the Reach was mostly flat, after all.
####
All of Joffrey's army consisted of horse riders. That ensured they were fast on their way. The Roseroad was pleasant, wide and empty thanks to the scouts ahead. The goal was to take on Highgarden from two sides—Joffrey from the East and Tywin from the North. From the south side, Lord Redwyne had also mobilized some of his soldiers to keep an eye on the movement, while also blocking all the ports from Oldtown to Shield Islands.
To end the Tyrells it was necessary to kill Willas and Garland Tyrell, along with their cousins no matter how distant. If they had children, they were to be swiftly dealt with too.
No mercy, for this was time to write another song for the golden-haired.
As the day went by, Joffrey crossed the Bitterbridge and then entered lands under the direct control of Highgarden. As dusk approached, he led the men to cross the Mander River and finally started setting up the camp for the army.
"It's magnificent." Joffrey looked at Highgarden castle through his far-eye for the first time in his life. It was grand and massive with towering white walls of three layers, each increasing in height. Not to mention, it was situated on a hill, making it harder to siege.
"Beyond the first wall is a briar labyrinth, spanning the entire grounds. Horses won't be able to enter, and men will get lost." Ser Arthur, who had studied everything, explained. "If we want to en—"
"Burn it," Joffrey commanded sharply, eyes fixed on the main castle. "Forget the walls; they can be mended later. Just ensure the main castle remains intact. The rest is worthless."
"Should we start now?" Ser Arthur asked.
Joffrey stopped looking as it was turning dark. He looked down at his feet and pondered over it. He saw no Tyrell armies outside the castle, which meant they were camping inside. It was also a widely known fact that inside Highgarden there were grapes, melons, peaches, and fireplums aplenty. There ought to be a great deal of horses too to be slaughtered and cooked. Not to mention, the two brothers must have already stocked enough to last them months, if not a year.
"I will discuss it with my Grandfather first," Joffrey decided. "Rain the arrows with the message for now."
The message was simple. Hand over Willas and Garlan, the rest will be spared.
"Understood, Your Grace."
Done for the night, Joffrey retreated to his main tent already erected and filled with all the luxuries a King might require. A fine bed of fur, a desk with some chairs, a storage cupboard, a warhammer holder, and a multitude of candles.
"Help me take the armor off," Joffrey ordered just as he entered the tent.
Right away, Val followed him into the tent. She reached from behind him and started taking off his cape and then the armor pieces, one by one.
"So, got a plan? my King of kneelers…" Asked Val.
"Plan for what?"
"To tame the wild she-wolf?"
Joffrey chuckled at that and turned around, reaching for Val's waist. It was covered in armor, however. Her honey-colored, long hair was tied in a tight braid, her face fierce and beautiful. "Why? Are you going to help?"
"I just might."
"How?"
Val smirked and continued to take off his chest plate. "Oh, hasty now, are you? Well, leave that element of surprise to me."
No wonder she's among my favorites.
"How about you stay here tonight?" He asked.
"On the first night of the siege? No, I can't. The Tyrells—who knows what they're plotting? North of the Wall, it’s not about day or night. We fight when we must. The Tyrells are cornered, and a beast with its back to the wall is the most dangerous of all," Val replied confidently, taking her Kingsguard duties seriously. "You'll have to make do with the she-wolf, my shrewd King."
"Oh, I'm shrewd now?"
Clang!
Joffrey's chest plate fell to the floor. With that, Val chuckled and stepped away, leaving.
"Shrewdest of them all, Your Grace."
Joffrey chuckled and walked to the side to sit down on the chair. He began to take off his shoes and prepare for a bath. He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms, after all. It was no hard thing for him to bring a large tub along. Tyrion's suggested new logistics division in the Golden Army had worked wonders already.
Who'd have thought you could have an entire section of the army just to manage provisions?
"Where is my tent?"
Joffrey looked sharply to the entrance of his royal tent. He smirked at the visitor, Arya Stark. As expected, she was frowning, arms folded in front of her modest bust.
"There is no such tent."
"Where will I rest?" Arya questioned.
Joffrey gestured to the only bed in his tent. It was sizable enough to hold more than two people. "There."
Fury washed over Arya. "W-What do you mean there? Is this how low you'll fall just to bed me?"
"Don't worry, I won’t touch you unless you lose the bet," Joffrey sneered, a smirk playing on his lips. "You’re the only woman here, except for Val, and no one dares touch her. That leaves you. Or would you prefer to sleep outside? Amongst those men, all starving for a tight cunt?"
Arya gulped and looked behind at the entrance. Then she looked back at Joffrey, and finally at the bed. It was big enough, and it wasn't like she hadn't slept in the same bed as him before. "Give me your word."
How naive. Joffrey inwardly sighed. I won't fuck you, but there's plenty of other things I can do.
"Suit yourself. I give you my word that I won't fuck you unless you lose the bet," Joffrey shamelessly replied and started to take off his tunic. Just then, four Unsullied men entered carrying a large, round tub filled with hot steaming water. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll take my bath."
In complete open, Joffrey ditched his pants and then his smallclothes before climbing into the tub and settling down in the hot water. It was just the best after the long horse ride from King's Landing. It had taken them days, but they had barely rested on their way.
"Shameless!" Arya snarled at him and turned around.
He chuckled at Arya's comment. "What? You've seen it before."
"Hmph! It's tiny." Arya tried to embarrass him.
Joffrey laughed harder this time. "Hah! That's because it's a grower. Did you forget choking on this same thing?"
Arya said nothing after that since everything was backfiring on her.
Joffrey plopped his head backward and closed his eyes. He still heard everything vividly, the rustling of clothes, the clanking of light armor. He could hear Arya settling into the bed.
He did his own things, scrubbing his skin, soaking in hot water, and clearing his mind. He wanted to end the siege as soon as possible so he could focus on the more exciting part. It was time the realm gave him a new name—The Conqueror.
After what seemed to be close to an hour, Joffrey finally got out of the water and wiped himself clean. Then he put on a fresh piece of tunic, and loose pants, and walked over to the bed. He saw Arya feigning sleep on her side's edge.
Just surrender to me, she-wolf. You’re the only one left now.
Allowing the candles to continue to burn, Joffrey slid down on the bed and then pulled over the quilt. By design, it was a large, single quilt that covered the entire bed. That way, Joffrey found easy access to his guests.
It didn't matter if Arya was asleep or not. Just as he had done before in the Red Keep, he shifted in the bed and got behind Arya before sliding his arms on her slender waist and embracing her behind tightly against his warmth.
Her petite frame was quite charming and huggable. Holding her tight against his chest felt warm and nice.
"What are you doing? You vowed!" Arya's stern voice came quickly.
Joffrey hugged her even tighter at that, ensuring that her firm ass felt his throbbing hard cock inside his loose pants. But he didn't reach for her breasts. “What’s the problem now? We’ve been through this before, haven’t we? I promised not to do ‘that,’ and I’ll keep my word.”
"Still, I didn't give you..."
Joffrey didn't reply anymore and just closed his eyes, breathing softly against her nape. It was a boon that her hair was short, or else they'd have ruined this tranquil moment.
It was a calculated move. The first step was to make her accept the physical closeness, and slowly it'd turn into sexual intimacy. Or perhaps it had already turned into that since Joffrey's shaft refused to calm down.
Surprisingly, Arya relaxed after a while and fell asleep in that same position. The journey had been tiring, and it seemed Joffrey wasn't going to do anything else.
Of course, resentment was still there.
####
The next morning didn't start with breakfast, but rather the cheer of the men as fiery arrows struck the shrub maze beyond the first wall of Highgarden. The flames were high, turning much of the second walls on the outside dark.
While the men cheered, Joffrey finally met with Tywin who had surrounded the castle from the Northern side. The old man came to Joffrey personally, adorned in the finest armor of House Lannister. Although his age to wield the heavy blade had long passed, he still joined the battlefields.
"Grandfather." Joffrey greeted the old man and invited him to his spacious tent. The drawn map of Highgarden was already spread on the table.
The old lion sized up the tent and soon enough found a sigil of a lion just beside the stag. Nodding in appreciation, he looked down at the map. "You seem to have a plan, Your Grace?"
Joffrey nodded. "I don't have time to sit here, Grandfather. Willas and Garlan are merely ants that we need to step on. I would like to end this siege as quickly as possible without losing our men. At midnight, we start bombarding the walls—every fifteen minutes, no rest for them. We won't let them sleep, eat, or sit. My men will start pouring acidic poison into the water of the Mander River canal that flows through the castle while also sending them missives declaring that the water is poisoned."
In an instant, the old lion grasped the situation. "You want them to hand over the Tyrells willingly? And the wells within the walls—have you considered them? Not all draw from the river."
Joffrey smirked at that. "My soldiers will periodically release a volley of fiery arrows right into the main castle. They’ll be forced to use the water wells to douse the flames. What will they drink when the wells run out? If they use the poisoned river water, the acid will eat through their flesh. And if they throw it on the fire? It’ll turn to poison in the air."
Cruel? Yes. Effective? Definitely.
Tywin kept a strong look on himself, hiding the pride that his grandson was bringing down one of the strongest houses in Westeros.
"You planned for this since…?"
Joffrey shrugged simply. "Alchemists of King's Landing are quite accomplished. "
Tywin nodded in the end, having nothing to add to that plan. "You'll damage the castle plenty."
"Mostly the walls. We can repair them. After all, Reach is rich," Joffrey replied.
Usually, Tywin would take an incredibly proud and solemn attitude when speaking with others. It was an unspoken way to have the most presence in the room.
But with Joffrey, he found himself on an equal footing. His heart told him not to spite this man of all.
"Indeed it is… rich."
####
Boom!
Boom!
Every fifteen minutes the distant sound of an explosion rang. But it was faint enough that those at Joffrey's camp didn't feel bothered by it. So, as another night approached, Joffrey resumed the slow taming of the she-wolf.
Just like the previous night, he took a bath naked. Arya entered his tent in silence later and got into the bed, no words spoken. It was annoying that she never changed into the more thin and easy-to-remove nightgown.
But Joffrey had decided on the escalation already. This time he wore no clothes and slid into the bed. Like the previous night, he went ahead and embraced Arya from behind, hugging her tight waist. However, this time he made sure she felt his probing cock on her asscheeks. Soon enough, he also squeezed his length between her slender thighs.
Hah! He noticed her flinch, but no other reaction came. Like mother, like daughter.
This brought fond memories to Joffrey. His time in the cold North could be summarized with one word—bliss.
Yet again, Joffrey didn't push too far. Slowly, one wall at a time, he broke through Arya's confidence. On the second night too, he happily slept while holding her splendid figure.
####
As the third day came, Joffrey had already poisoned the waters entering the castle. At the same time, he threw rotten, dead sheep in the stream, and decreased the flow of water by shoving stones at the canal's entrance.
If the poison didn't work, at least the castle dwellers would have diarrhea.
"Send out the fire arrows," Joffrey commanded while relaxedly sitting under a canopy, breaking his fast with some of his Kingsguards and Arya. "Keep the bombardment going. Alchemists are working overtime in King's Landing."
Boom!
The exploding scorpions were better than catapults since they were smaller and more precise. At the same time, the scorpions had fantastic piercing power. It made the thick arrows truly terrifying.
By now, the first wall had a few holes in it, the shrub maze was gone, and the second wall was being attacked. It was a sight to behold from such a distance.
Monopoly on this type of violence must only remain in my hands. But they'll mimic this and react back if I don't keep forging new ways.
"Keep sending the missives. Remind them that their water is poisoned. Remind them that they only have to hand over the Tyrells." Joffrey ordered his men every now and then. But he didn't have much to do since Ser Arthur was too competent in his job.
"Arya, do you know archery?" Joffrey asked randomly.
"Better than you, Your Grace."
Joffrey chuckled and stood up. "Let's go to the back and have a small archery contest. My money is on Val, however. She's from Beyond the Wall, and she's one ferocious woman."
Arya looked at the tall woman, the only female Kingsguard in known history. To a degree, she respected Val and admired her achievement. But at the same time, she knew Val was loyal to Joffrey. Why someone like that would surrender to him was beyond her.
"We'll see." Arya proudly followed since there was nothing else to do.
####
Inside Highgarden.
Thud!
Thud!
"This is madness! How can a man be this cruel? There are women and children in the castle!" Garlan Tyrell, the second son of Mace Tyrell slammed the table with his fist in rage. Looks similar to Loras, but taller, broader, and bearded, he held the fierce face of a trained warrior. "Don't stop me, Willas. I’ll lead the men out and fight them. It's better than to sit here and die."
Willas Tyrell, the eldest son of Mace, crippled on one leg, remained seated. Unlike his brother, he was calm and collected. "Isn't this what we did to Storm's End during the rebellion? This is how sieges go, Garlan."
"Then let me fight!"
"With that? The moment our soldiers leave the castle they will change sides. The Baratheons, the Crownlands, King's Unsullied, and the Lannisters are out there—thirty thousand men, Garlan. It's not a battle we can win. Our only hope now is the hawk I sent." Willas calmly assured, having some hope.
But Garlan had none. "He hasn't descended in more than a decade. Why would he now?"
"He must because we have something to offer."
####
After yet another warm, cuddling night with Arya, Joffrey entered the third day of the siege. He hoped to make this the last day as they began to completely cut off the water entering the castle. At the same time, the bombardment of the scorpions began hitting the innermost wall of the castle.
If anyone had half a brain they knew that after the wall, the castle would be next. The people in the castle were running out of time and the King's patience.
"Your Grace!"
Joffrey looked at the panting scout. The man jumped down from the horse before even stopping. "M-Men approaching from further west of Roseroad. There are fifty of them, they fly the sigil of a white tower topped with flames!"
"Hightower?" Joffrey stood up and annoyedly picked up his far-eye to look. But since the road extended beyond and around Highgarden, it was impossible to see anything.
Thud!
Right then, a few horses arrived at his camp from the North side. It was Tywin with a dozen soldiers by his side.
"It's Leyton," Tywin announced just as he stepped off the horse and sternly voiced. "My scouts informed me. A golden carriage the size of a small cottage pulled by six horses—it's him."
Leyton Hightower, also known as the Old Man of Oldtown, the current Lord of the Hightower and the head of the House Hightower. The man had too many titles to remember.
"Now he decides to come out of his tower? After a decade?" Joffrey cursed under his heart. There were a few men he couldn't afford to offend or disrespect. One of them was Tywin, and the other was Leyton. Not because he was weak, but because the two old men were widely respected. Offending them was similar to annoying most other houses in the region.
"Be cautious with him," Tywin advised, his tone cold and measured. It was no small thing for Tywin Lannister to speak of caution. "Rumor has it he spent years in Hightower, pouring over magic books with his daughter, Malora. If he's coming here now, it's not without purpose."
Joffrey sighed. "He should return if he's here to save the Tyrells."
Tywin didn't add anything to that. Nobody knew why the old man came out of his self-imposed seclusion all of a sudden. If anything, Leyton should be too old now to come out, let alone travel.
No matter what, Joffrey ordered his men to continue the siege. Then he turned to his loyal Golden Legion commander. "Ser Arthur, use the fifth formation."
"Legion!" Ser Arthur roared immediately.
Slightly over three thousand men instantly changed their positions and formed a matrix around Joffrey's royal tent, keeping him in the center. All the men raised their golden spears and shields, ready to defend.
In reality, this formation was only meant for intimidation, not attack or defense.
Sometime later, the truly colossal carriage of Leyton Hightower appeared coming towards Joffrey's camp. With that, the bombardment of scorpions on the castle stopped as the carriage was in the way.
Soon enough, the carriage stopped near the camp. The Unsullied soldiers didn't move an inch, turning the air tense. The Hightower knights felt it too and quickly surrounded the carriage.
"Make way," Joffrey ordered.
"Legion!"
In a display of unmatched discipline, the Unsullied men parted into two groups, forming a long passage between them that went from the carriage, straight to Joffrey.
No movement came after that. Joffrey stayed in place, arms folded behind. The carriage didn't move either.
Does he want me to approach him? This old fucker.
Clack!
Finally, the carriage's door opened. A man stepped out first, young and smart, tall. Tywin informed him that this was Leyton's youngest son.
The same son then reached into the carriage and lent his hand inside. Soon enough, a frail, shivering arm appeared, followed by a tall, old man as thin as a stick. His head was full of shoulder-length white hair, his face covered in countless wrinkles. The man didn’t look much different from a wraith.
At that point, Joffrey sighed and walked forward. What if the old fucker died while just trying to reach him? He thought.
"No need to come out, Lord Hightower. Please remain seated." Joffrey graciously, loudly allowed.
Humfrey Hightower, Leyton's youngest son, vigilantly looked at Joffrey, but soon bowed his head and greeted him as a King should be.
"My King, forgive an old man his frailty," Leyton Hightower rasped, his voice thin, barely above a whisper. "Were these bones younger, I'd be on my knees before you... but age has its limits."
His eyes can't lie. Joffrey saw the brightness, the shrewdness in the old man's gaze.
"Please, I invite you to have a seat in my carriage, Your Grace. I’ve come with purpose… and there are matters we must discuss," Leyton requested, his words breaking every now and then, almost sounding gibberish.
What does he want?
"Just us?" Joffrey gave Humfrey a look.
The old man nodded at his son. Right away, Humfrey stepped away from the carriage, along with all the other knights that were close to the door or the window of the carriage.
Seeing that, Joffrey climbed into the utterly magnificent, lavish carriage. Inside it was two sets of seats, facing each other, covered in soft velvet. There was a table on the side with a variety of fruits and jars of various wines and whatnot.
I'll have one of these made. Traveling with women will be quite enjoyable then.
Thud!
Joffrey closed the door once he sat down on the opposite seat. He relaxed back, keeping the air of King on himself while staring back at the frail old man. He said nothing, nor did Leyton. They silently stared into each other's eyes for no reason.
What's he doing? I'm not into men.
"I received Willas' hawk."
Joffrey nodded. "Does that change anything?"
"You can't spare them?" Leyton asked directly.
Joffrey made his displeasure clear with his expressions. "They tried to kill me, Lord Hightower. At my own wedding, no less; with one of their Tyrell women. First, they backed the Targaryens and failed. Now, they stood by their greed. And as I recall, didn't House Hightower support Renly?"
Indeed, Hightower did support Renly. It wasn't even a secret.
"I was but asking, Your Grace. No need for ire, none at all. Truth be told, their House holds no favor in my heart, never has. I didn’t come to save them. I came here to get something that's inside that castle." Leyton revealed, grabbing a small grape to chew on at the same time. "I don't want that castle burnt down, especially not the books within."
Joffrey was intrigued by that. "What is it that made you descend the tower after a decade?"
"Tomes of the Targaryens, yes... Ancient, brimming with magic," Leyton murmured, his voice thin as parchment, eyes distant. "They hold lives, thoughts... dreams, visions. I've read them, high in my tower these past ten years, seeking... Always seeking. They speak of dragon dreams, but I see prophecies within their shadows. And there’s one thread that binds them all... fear. From Aegon to Rhaegar... Fear of something dark, something... unknown."
Joffrey's expression changed at those words. A little shocked, a little amused, and a little tense. Hightowers have long been involved with the Targaryens. No wonder he had the tomes.
"Ah! I see it in your face. You know something?" Leyton’s gaze was sharp despite his age. "Yes, yes… The burden of the throne lives on. The legacy of the Targaryen blood continues. Renly, that fool spewed venom into your blood."
What? Joffrey felt slightly annoyed. He didn't have a spec of Baratheon blood in him, hence no blood of Targaryens.
"Your Grace! What did your vision reveal? What did you see? Even the Targaryens, with their dragons of fire, whom did they fear?” Leyton asked him, almost on the verge of begging. It was clear, the old man was lost to the pursuit of knowledge.
Joffrey sighed, wondering if he should tell him or not. Chances were that Leyton would believe him. But, giving the man what he sought for ten years so easily, without receiving anything back was not the way of a Lion.
"I know. I know who they feared and how to fight that approaching danger. Not too far, in this very decade, the entire realm will experience that fear firsthand." Joffrey sprinkled some clues to heighten Leyton's desperation. "Darkness is creeping… Winter is coming."
Leyton's eyes widened at that proclamation. He shivered almost. "W-Who?"
"Prove it first," Joffrey replied and started to move towards the door to leave slowly. "Prove to me that you are loyal to the crown first, and I’ll tell you everything that I saw."
"How is it that you require my assistance, Your Grace?"
"Your support. Once the siege is over, I need your army and navy to support my conquest beyond The Broken Arm. Tyrosh and Lys, I need them to serve as the last bastion in our future battle against the darkness, for it will come from the North." Joffrey revealed and opened the door to step out.
"Yes, yes, that makes true sense. That’s why so many Targaryens sought to unite with Dorne, time and again. Yes, indeed, that’s right." Leyton paused, his frail hands trembling slightly. "Have it then. You have my support, Your Grace."
Joffrey nodded in agreement and stepped outside. "I will try to find the tomes in Highgarden once this is over."
"Tomorrow! It shall end tomorrow, Your Grace. You need not waste time on Tyrells. Let me…"
Shocked, Joffrey looked back and in silence listened to Leyton's whispers. The entire plan from the start to the end. A plan to take Highgarden without any resistance or further damage.
Is this what they call turning disaster into opportunity? Joffrey agreed with Lord Hightower's plan right away and retreated.
Soon enough, the large carriage left the premises, and Joffrey also stopped bombarding the castle with scorpions. There was no need to waste resources anymore.
####
Night arrived once again, and this time there was silence. Joffrey walked towards his tent to finish the day and get to bed. Arya was also beside him, acting like his guard or something.
I wonder what Val has planned. It was the last day of the siege, so Joffrey knew something was going to happen.
"Watch out!"
A ruckus emerged all of a sudden.
Splash!
"Aaah!" Arya growled angrily, soaking wet from head to toe. She glared to the side at the Unsullied soldier who was carrying the large bucket and tripped.
"Oh no, dear." Val emerged out of nowhere and patted Arya's clothes. "You're drenched! Come with me, I'll give you one of mine while your clothes dry."
What is this Wildling planning? Joffrey amusedly watched Val take Arya away after giving him a secret wink.
He chuckled and went into his tent alone. Immediately after, his bathtub was placed inside and he sat down in it to dissolve the day's fatigue. He thought about everything that had happened that day, also taking into account that Leyton could betray.
Woosh!
His eyes opened at the sound of someone entering.
Ah! Good job, Val.
Joffrey saw Arya enter the tent wearing nothing but a sleeveless, white nightgown that had thin strings to stay on her shoulders, and it reached as far as her calves. It didn't seem she wore any smallclothes either as he noticed the small, tight nipples on the gown.
It'll be easy to access everything tonight. He felt hard already.
As expected, Arya didn't even look at him and got into the bed. That night, she also threw a few pillows between her side and Joffrey before pulling up the quilt.
Useless attempts.
It was hard to wait, but Joffrey did his best. After half an hour he got out of the tub, wiped himself dry, and slid into his bed. Wasting not a single moment, he pulled up the quilt and shifted closer to Arya's back.
As expected, he just shoved the pillows away and quickly plastered his naked front on her back. That night, her arms were naked, and her nightgown was thin, so he felt everything far more.
Acting asleep?
That night, Joffrey went further than ever before. No, he had done this before after bedding Sansa that night. But still, it excited him. Sansa was docile, and Catelyn was easy to sway, so winning Arya was a true trophy from House Stark.
Tracing her waist, Joffrey moved his hand to the side of her hips. There, he ran his fingers softly, pulling up the hem of her nightgown slowly, exposing more and more of her legs, then thighs. Before he knew it, he gripped a handful of the cloth and pulled it all up to her waist.
Ah! Warm, just as I remember. He sank the length of his cock horizontally against the crack of her ass. No smallclothes? Good work, Val. I'll reward you later.
The softness of her asscheeks felt like a feather against his groin. The untouched curves, and the pure tenderness of her thighs, all aroused him to no end. He wanted her, but he couldn't. So, he settled for the next best thing.
"Umh~" Arya unwittingly let out a moan. How could she not when she felt it? That rigid, thickness of his throbbing cock slid between her tight thighs, brushing against her entrance that, despite her best efforts, couldn't stop sopping.
Joffrey lost himself to that amazing dive. So warm, and a little steamy, it gave him all the lube needed to slide his cock all the way between her thighs and crotch. There, he rested for a while, savoring the sensations.
Amidst that, he moved his hand up, tracing her naked arm, and reached for her slender shoulder. With a lone finger, he hooked the thin string and pulled it to the side, sliding it down. It didn't take a lot as he spread his palm wide on her shoulder and slid down towards her breast.
He easily went under the loosened nightgown and reached her fantastic, handful breasts, bare, soft as a cloud, with that tight button aroused and erect.
No, he didn't pinch it. He just kept his palm wide on her breast and felt her, at times flicking her nipples between the fingers as he fondled her.
While that happened above, he began the slow motion of his hips, thrusting in and out of her thigh gap. By then he could hear Arya's contentious suppressed moans. Her hips beckoned against his pelvis, grounding into him.
She tried to arch her back but failed as he had her captured in place.
Go on, Arya Stark. Lose yourself to pleasure. Surrender yourself to me.
"Mmmh…" She whined.
Clap!
Joffrey gifted her the first hard thrust of the night. His thighs clapped against her ass. It was too quick but Joffrey felt on the edge already. He couldn't stop anymore, and since there was no Sansa behind him this time, he refused to slow down.
"Argh… ha~" Joffrey groaned near her ear before pushing his lips on her nape and kissing her there. His hands picked up speed on her breasts at the same time.
Seven hells! I can't wait to slide into her.
It was the excitement to explore the untouched. To be inside the treasure hidden. To claim what was once forbidden. Arya was no taboo and rather a fine lady who knew how to play with a sword. That only made her more desirable to him.
"Ugh!" Joffrey grunted a loud one and spilled with no shame. Right between her creamy legs, he made a mess of his seed. Right against her tight entrance, he left a thick load as if it were the ringing bells of the soon-to-be-arriving real thing.
He panted a little and kept fucking the tight gap until he felt his fluid make a real sticky mess all over. From her tight cunt to his balls, from her thighs to his pelvis. The mess spread everywhere and until he could no longer thrust, he kept going. His hand kept feeling her tits.
"Enough!" Arya exploded suddenly and jumped out of the bed, landing on her feet. Her gown quickly fell to her calves but from her shoulders it remained dangled on one side, exposing her pale breast.
Shhh~
She grabbed her needle sword and pointed it at Joffrey.
"What? Look at your face. Flushed, panting, and is that a smirk?" Joffrey taunted her. Her anger was born of history, not what Joffrey had just done. So, he remained in the bed, one elbow under his head.
"Fight me, Joffrey!" Arya growled, clenching her thighs shut as she still felt something slowly trickling down.
It's just a formality at this point.
Joffrey nodded and sat up before shifting out of the bed. Facing Arya, he stood up naked, cock dangling. He saw her eyes lock onto his groin for lingering moments.
"You do know what will happen if you lose, right?"
"You were planning on doing it anyway." Arya sneered.
"But I would have never entered you," Joffrey replied and walked to the side to grab his loose breeches. "How about this? I’ll fight you with one hand, and I won’t even draw my sword. But when you lose—and you will—you’ll obey me in everything I command until my campaign is over.”
With pants on, Joffrey gripped his sword and looked back at her. He liked the look on her face, cute and charming. He couldn't wait to lift her in the air and slam her down on his cock.
Arya gritted her teeth, wondering if this was the right choice. "Getting cocky now, Joffrey?"
"Oh, already talking about cocks? Didn't take you for a desperate one," Joffrey ridiculed. "What do you think? Will you accept the deal?"
A short silence overcame.
Arya looked down, her legs shaking. Her own body was failing her as her arousal had peaked. But, no matter how much her body desired, she didn't want to give in so easily. Joffrey was already doing things to her, and Sansa had already refused to come with her to the North. So, she found no fault in at least putting up a fight.
Not for the sake of winning, but for the sake of maintaining her self-respect. Whatever came after was left to fate.
"D-Deal… I accept the deal."
_______________
A/N: So, what to do with the wildling redhead, Ygritte? Bang or not?
14 Votes - Jon Dies
10 Votes - Jon Lives
Since the readers are divided in the poll from some chapters ago, I'll kill him near the end of the series during the White Walker invasion. But what to do with Ygritte until then? I've got no idea. It feels wrong to cuck Jon.
Comments
Silver
Just cuck John
MrPlotThickens
😦
carlos henrique
Make Jon realize he is gay and starts to fuck with Tormund
MrPlotThickens
Good idea.
sr777796
Cuck john or Maybe behind johns back. John snow does know nothing
Goxo
I also feel the same Author, so on Ygritte it got to be a no right away but a time skip is a valid option for a epilogue scene. If you want to give Ygritte Jon a kid and Joffrey offer to give the kid more siblings 😉. That my take, so till next time Author, Godspeed.
