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GOT: The Golden Lion 20 - Withering Flowers & Roaring Lions
🕑 Added 2024-07-22 18:38:41 +0000 UTCA few hours ago in the Red Keep.
Hours before Joffrey arrived at the Sept of Baelor for the wedding, he had a secret meeting with his champion for the small tourney he was holding. In the eyes of the lords and the smallfolk, he was gifting Gregor Clegane to the Dorne on a gold platter. But he'd be a shame to the Lannister name if things were that simple.
"Your Grace." Gregor knelt on one knee before Joffrey. The place of their meeting was one of the rooms in the less visited halls of the Red Keep.
Joffrey remained seated in a chair, sipping fine lemonade. "You are aware of today's tourney. Are you not?"
"I am, Your Grace."
"Good. While I don't want you to lose, I don't want to kill Prince Oberyn either." Rising from his seat, he fixed a menacing gaze on the kneeling giant. "But I don't want you to spare him either. He wields a spear and will be armored, but not enough to withstand your blows unscathed."
Expectantly, Gregor looked up at the King. He had been commanded to follow the King's command by the old Lion. His reins had been passed down to the young King now. "Between dead and alive?"
"Indeed! Ser Clegane, the Red Viper is old, and I desire him removed from the battlefield. Perhaps a mangled mess of his legs, a ruined arm, or even blinded eyes? The sand fuckers have graced King's Landing for the first time in ages. It'd be a shame if they didn't leave with a gift—a permanently crippled body of Prince Oberyn sounds perfect. Don't you agree?"
Gregor Clegane smiled brightly at that. As a man of violence, that was even more joyous than killing. "You shall be pleased with my swordplay, Your Grace."
"Oh, I have no doubt. Do this for me, and the seat of Master of Law on the Small Council will be yours," Joffrey declared with a smirk, dangling the promise before the oafish giant to secure his eager loyalty. "You may leave now."
With that, the Mountain That Rides returned to his personal chamber to prepare for the duel. More careful than he would have been normally, he now thoroughly prepared to cripple the Dornish prince.
Joffrey savored the glass of lemonade in peace. After years, the culmination of his plots was slowly becoming clearer.
Oh, how savory everything tasted with that.
####
Presently, at the seaside arena in the Red Keep's vicinity, the duel between Gregor Clegane and Oberyn Martell continued. However, the King had already left the spectator seats. Off to take a leak and give one last chance to his supposed wife.
In an ideal situation, he would have loved to have absolute Tyrell support. He would have loved to have Margaery as his wife. Ignoring that annoying smirking smile, she was a beautiful lady with a cunt worth kingdoms in gold. Yet, what he desired the most was control. Control over every minute decision, event, and scheme in the realm. And that was impossible with Tyrells by his side as their ambition stood as high as the sky.
Joffrey walked out of the privy and approached the water bucket to clean his hands and splash some on his face. The best thing about being the King was that he had a private room no matter where he went. Even in the arena building, he had a place to rest.
"My love?" The door opened to the small, luxurious room with a single bed and two chairs. The window overlooked the arena as the room was strategically placed high and in the clear.
Here comes the smirking whore. Joffrey didn't have to look behind to see who it was. This is your last chance to save yourself.
"Did the duel end?" He asked, wiping his face with a towel. He had discarded his shoes and the surcoat, being relaxed since the next few hours were going to be intense.
"Not yet, Your Grace," Margaery answered and got close to him.
She took the towel from Joffrey's hands and patted it over his face to dry him off as a show of her love and care. Looking up at his proud, changed look, she blushed a little. "Y-You have changed."
"For the better?"
"Much better," she answered with a soft smile.
Before Joffrey left for the North, he had been skinnier, shorter, and less imposing. But now, he looked every bit the rugged knight. His hair had grown longer, brushing against his ears and sides, and his newfound height and gained muscles made him seem strong and formidable. His face, now carved from symmetrical muscles, exuded a new sense of power.
"I feel blessed to have a husband as ravishing as you, Your Grace."
She always had a good mouth, didn't she? Joffrey internally scoffed at her true but empty compliments. I'll entertain it for now.
He smiled softly and looked down at her tight mounds squeezed between her tight dress, the deep neckline gave him an arousing view. With her hands busy wiping his face and fixing his hair, he held her thin waist with both his hands and squeezed her flesh. "The feeling is mutual, my gorgeous wife."
Joffrey let out a hot, audible exhale to showcase his intimacy. If only you were obedient like Sansa, you'd have made a fine broodmare for this royal cock.
Moving one hand, he gently traced her sleeveless shoulder, her pale smooth skin was warm and akin to silk. Plenty of gold had been spent on her to ensure her beauty, he had no doubt. Her hair was so charming and regally done that it made him eager to grab and ruin it, make those scheming, mascara-filled eyes red and ruined.
"Let's watch the duel from the window," Joffrey commanded, casting aside the towel she clutched. With a savage smile, he turned her around and shoved her toward the open window, his presence looming intimately behind her. "Oberyn seems to be doing rather poorly."
Margaery could feel the King's passion and didn't mind it at all. She let the smooth breeze from outside soothe her being. With the room at the peak of one of the arena towers, they could see everything from above the sitting stands. The entire arena was wide open for their eyes—yet she was more focused on the movements right behind her.
"Then it's the will of the Seven," Margaery replied, her voice as smooth as silk.
She paid no mind to the King's curious squeezes on her buttocks, the caressing touches on her waist, or the gentle kisses on her exposed neck. "You have given Dorne the chance to claim what they have long desired."
"Hmm." Joffrey pressed forward, shoving Margaery against the brick wall under the window frame. His erection squeezed between the heavenly split, while his hands reached around her waist and crept upwards towards her tantalizing, small, yet handful breasts. He kissed the side of her neck, making her moan in shivers. "Aren't I a benevolent king?"
"Very-uh… very benevolent." Margaery closed her eyes and eased her head back as the King became more and more daring with his hands and lips. "Y-Your Grace… here?"
Joffrey stopped kissing her neck and focused more on the other parts. He leaned his chest back and easily untied the single lace between Margaery's shoulder blades. It held the entire upper portion of her dress tight against her chest.
Yet again, Joffrey marveled at Margaery's lithe yet enticing frame. Her soft, tender, bubble-like arse pushed tight against his pelvis and made him as hard as a rock. It'd be a shame to not savor the flower before plucking it for good.
"Are you not my wife now?" He asked in a dismissive tone. His hands masterfully worked and aggressively reached around her waist again to pull away her blouse for good. It dangled over her hips, leaving her taut, pink-tipped breasts bare.
She felt the fresh air caress her nakedness, making goosebumps rise all over her skin. "I-I'm yours… My love."
"Then be mine." Joffrey cupped her beautiful breasts and massaged them both in his palms. The warm, feathery peaks almost melted in his hands. Her heaving breaths made him impatient as he kneaded harder, harsher, and hungrier.
Joffrey looked out of the window while toying with her tight, blushing pink nipples. Oberyn Martell had already lost one arm from the Mountain's strike, sliced from the elbow, still dangling from some skin left. Gregor wasn't unscathed either as he bled from various strikes of the spear.
"Ah!" Margaery moaned in abandon, begging for more.
Joffrey smirked and gave her just that. He left her breasts and slid his hands to her curvy slender waist, then to the side of her hips. With dancing fingers, he pulled her wedding gown up, bunching it up around her waist. It was tight around her hips and loose around her feet, making it easier the further he went.
But he never left her cold as he showered kisses on her bare neck. His erotic, possessive actions heated Margery up as well, her less-than-innocent whimpers proof enough. Her legs danced as well the more naked they became. There was no backing down now, so she simply accepted this love.
Does she think I'm her husband now? Joffrey was confused internally. Margaery was being too accommodating and accepting. If she knew about the poison, it made more sense for her to try to stay away from him. She doesn't know?
Soon enough, he succeeded in lifting her entire gown above her supple arse. It was annoying as there was just too much cloth between them, but nothing stopped him from relishing her hot flesh.
"Oh, another eye lost!" Joffrey exclaimed as he glanced out of the window. Right at the same time both his hands pushed down her small clothes, making way for the royal consummation he was planning on having.
"Um-hmm…" Margaery, so lost in the moment, kept her lips pressed. Her hands held onto the window frame, slightly leaning forward as she willingly spread her feet apart to aid her husband.
Joffrey smirked at her readiness. Wasting no time, he lowered his breeches to the knees and unleashed his virile cock, hard as steel and ready to slide in. But he chose to wait and merely slid between her firm thighs, brushing past her sodden slit, teasing moans out of her.
"Someone seems thirsty," Joffrey whispered to her ears while hugging her waist tightly against his chest. He began dry humping between her thighs, and she aided him by squeezing her legs together.
Surprisingly, Margaery started panting already. Her back arched, she turned her face towards him and looked at his lips hungrily. "I-I am… For my royal… hu-husband…"
She's not faking it. Joffrey noted her expressions. Why such lust then?
"Then may this royal husband taste his bride?" Joffrey leaned towards her lips as she kept her face sideways. They met in warmth and hot drool, making a mess in an instant. More than Joffrey, it was Margaery's tongue at play. She tasted sweet and fruity somehow, her breath enchanting too.
What does she want?
Joffrey felt he had enough and lowered himself a little to aim his shaft upwards. Margaery seemed to understand and immediately stopped kissing. She leaned forward on the window frame and spread her legs.
Just to make it more humiliating for her, he spat on his palm and coated his cock before thrusting in. Gently, the bulging cockhead spread her tight pussy lips apart. Joffrey kept looking at her shivering back as he filled her more and more.
"Tight… I-ugh…" Joffrey tried to keep talking, but the way Margaery clenched her walls made it hard for him. Her scorching hotness, the grooves of walls against his veiny length. It all combined to make one magnificent wrap of pleasure. "I'm afraid… I'll be addicted to this… cunt!"
"Aaaah!" Margaery howled a moan of delight. The humiliating words from her husband only made it more magical. "Yess~ It's all ah! Yours…"
"No moon tea from now on!" Joffrey slammed himself in at last, to the hilt. He could feel the incredible warmth of her slimy, wet walls. Oh, how much he loved the milking clenches of her cunt.
"Day and night… I'll be needing your service."
"Oouhhh!" Margaery jolted on her toes, unable to control herself with his cock refusing to escape. She felt stretched to the limit, so full, so deep inside. Her head almost slammed onto the window frame as she leaned further down, eyes clenched in pleasure. "Aaaas~ You-oh wish… Your Grace!"
Before following up with the main course, Joffrey began moving his hips. He slid out fast and to the tip, but as he thrusted back in he went painfully slow. Every single inch of her cunt, every little bump, the throb of his cock, the pulsation of her insides, a treat of sensory overload drowned their mind.
But Margaery tried to push herself back and take him in with a quick shove.
This smirking whore. Joffrey stopped her with his hands and kept up with the slow motion. His pulls were always fast but the pushes forced her to crave being fucked like a whore.
"Wife, I have something to ask," Joffrey began, his voice dripping with arrogance, slowly leading her to confront something. He paid no heed to the savage beating Oberyn was enduring outside—it was a job well executed. "I heard Lady Olenna is suggesting a union between Loras and my widowed mother."
"Ummm… Yes… It's an idea, my love~" Margaery confessed.
Too bad for you, that whore's only interested in incest. Joffrey internally chuckled.
As a reward, he drove into her cunt a little faster this time. But still, it made Margaery's knees go weak, her insides boiled in heat and throbs as her climax neared. Her fists clenched harder, as did her teeth.
Meanwhile, Oberyn seemed to have folded as well, leaving the Mountain the victor and preparing for the next and the last battle of his life.
"Aaaah! Please, Your Grace!" Margaery cried all of a sudden.
"Please what?" He asked.
Margaery felt ashamed, never having used vile words with men. "P-Please… Just fuck me! H-harder-aaaah!"
Like a beast, Joffrey slammed his cock in at full speed this time, resounding a sharp clap in the room. But then he slowed down again. "Like that?"
"Yes yes yessss… Just like tha-Oooh I'm so close!"
But Joffrey had no intention of granting her that pleasure. He didn't plan on prolonging their encounter, knowing he'd spill in her quickly once he made up his mind. For now, it was more of an interrogation. "What's Olenna scheming? From what I recall, Loras has always been more interested in cocks than cunts. Wasn't that why Renly never put his seed in you?"
Pa!
Joffrey thrust hard this time, claiming her cunt to the cervix. But he refused to pull out this time, knowing well she was having erotic convulsions of climax. He refused her the pleasure. "What's Olenna planning by getting him married to my Mother then?"
Margaery, eyes watery, face red from the arousal, just hummed in reply.
"Speak, my love." He persisted.
"N-Nothing, Your Grace. Our two houses will be closer th–is way."
So the whore can lie. Joffrey was no fool. The Tyrells’ plan was easy to guess. Once they killed him, controlling Tommen with Margaery's cunt was the easiest part. But until they took away Cersei, Tommen would always remain compromised. So, taking Cersei to Highgarden as Loras' bride was the simplest option.
"I hope you're right, my lovely wife." Joffrey picked up the pace at last. Thrusting with wilder thirst, only aiming to get it done as quickly as possible. "You know I hate it, don't you?"
Plap! Plap!
The wet squelches echoed in the room by then. Margaery had already climaxed on his pumping shaft, coating it with her slippery nectar until the sticky residue dribbled out with his movements.
"W-What, Your Grace?"
Joffrey scoffed and hugged her body around her shoulders. He pulled her leaning body back against his chest and fondled her breasts all the while fucking her to his pleasure. "I hate those who ruin… ugh my plans!"
"Oh, ooooh!" Margaery lost herself at that point. Powerless, her cunt stretched and filled, while her breasts molded under her husband's palms. The scent of their sex finally reached their noses, intoxicating further in pleasure.
Fast, deep, hard—Joffrey kept on the same rhythm all the way until he felt an itch in his balls. Noticing his climax was nearing, he pulled out of her sore petals and roughly turned her around. "Let me-eh see your face!"
For the last time as I fuck you, my whore.
Margaery smiled with pleasure and followed his lead. In no time she found herself raised in the air, her ankles locked behind his waist while his cock once again slammed into her under her own weight. She hugged his neck tight, scared of falling out of the window at the same time.
All she knew was that her second climax was approaching and her King was carrying her like a weightless doll. How strong he had gotten, how pleasing his cock was—the best she ever had, she thought.
How she wished this could last all her life…
"Aah, oooooh~ My love… you're amazing!" Margaery's eyes rolled up as she rested her forehead against his. "You're soooo goood! So… sad~"
Sad? Joffrey noted the slip of the tongue. But it didn't matter anymore. Clearly, Margaery had picked her side. Fine then, let's play the game.
Joffrey stepped forward and made her almost sit on the window frame. His thrust intensified, jolting her entire body. The heavenly, ticklish sensation rose up from his balls and pumped through his shaft as he bucked within her.
"Aaaaah! Ooooh… baby!" Margaery panted into his ears, slamming her lips over his shoulder to bite his tunic. Her climax matched his and her cunt squeezed him dry of every drop of royal seed.
Joffrey almost fell back at the sensation. His scalp tingled, and the pent-up lust and need exploded inside her slippery walls. Flexes after flexes, his ass squeezed, letting out the last drops inside. The mess was noticeable, long strings of their mixed cream dripped to the floor below.
Panting, Joffrey only felt calmer, staring out of the window above Margaery's shoulder. Right before his eyes, he saw the final blow land on Gregor Clegane's neck as the giant was on his knees, battered, bruised, and bleeding—Sandor gave him a painful fight and the execution of a noble.
Oberyn Martell crippled on his own accord, and Sandor Clegane's undying loyalty. Nothing was better than watching a giant being slayed while slaying the prized cunt of the Highgarden.
It almost made him hard again. But he no longer felt any attraction to Margaery. Beyond her beauty, there was nothing for her to offer. So finally he pulled out of her dripping cunt and made her stand up.
Uncaring, he wiped his cock clean on her bunched-up gown itself before pulling up his breeches. He let Margaery make herself proper and walked over to pour himself a glass of water. Then, he put on his boots and left the small room without another word or a 'romantic' kiss.
Joffrey made quick steps and arrived back in his spectator seat. The entire arena was in an uproar of cheers by then. Sandor stood there in a daze, himself bleeding in a few places. But Oberyn's sacrifice had helped him defeat the Mountain with fewer injuries.
Let's hope the rest of the day goes my way. Joffrey prayed to whichever god gave him this second life. Time to end this madness and turn our swords to those wretched White Walkers once and for all.
"Wonderful!" Joffrey stood up and shouted, making the crowd go silent slowly. By then Magaery joined his side, looking freshly fucked despite the best of her attempts to hide it. "Then it is Lord Sandor Clegane of House Clegane from now on."
He waited until Sandor was looking up at him. The man clearly held no love for the King, but he was still a dutiful man and knew his limits. No matter what, Joffrey had earned his trust fairly like a man of his word.
"I find myself lacking a permanent Master of Law." Joffrey made his intent clear before handing out the prize. Sandor understood it as well and knelt like a Knight to receive the reward. "Lord Sandor Clegane, I hereby appoint you to the seat of Master of Law at my Small Council. May you serve the realm justly."
The crowd of lords, ladies, and smallfolk clapped for the new Master of Law. The man had a face to hold that position, there was no doubt about that.
Eventually, Joffrey got tired of the cheers. "It's time for my wedding feast!"
The cheers got even louder at his call. But he didn't care and left with his Kingsguards. Margaery remained by his side the whole time as his wife. Only Joffrey knew of the sinister plot brewing under that guise of love and duty.
####
The sky graced the wedding feast with a gentle shade from the clouds, while the breeze soothed the sweating soldiers who numbered more than necessary. Yet the celebrations knew no bounds as the midgets showcased their art of storytelling with a flavor of mockery.
For the day they had picked the tale of the Dance of the Dragons.
"Aaaa! Aaaah! My good Ser… Ah!"
A male dwarf in feminine clothes acted as if he was getting fucked from behind by an armored dwarf. The man from behind playfully spanked him while gloating.
"Haha! How is this cock, Alicent, my Queen? I vowed to be the Kingsguard, but Queen—I shall protect your cunt by slaying it myself!" The knight vowed, his name was Ser Criston Cole.
Bam!
"They took the boy! They took the boy!" Another midget rolled into the scene, another female with a silver wig. "I am Helaena the airhead! Aaaaah… My Queen? Why do you ride Ser Criston? Are you jealous of our dragons… No, wait! They took the boy!"
The midget in the armor jumped away from the supposed 'queen mother' and faced the young Halaena. "What? Not at all… I was just… protecting the Queen Mother's honor."
"But fucking her?"
"I mea—"
"Nooo! They took the boy!"
The play was about the whole Dance of the Dragons. The Targaryen Civil War that saw the end of the age of dragons. The family divided in two and killed each other until no dragons were left. Kingsguard fucking Queen Mother, niece fucking her uncle—so many taboos were committed in the span of a few years that the play was bound to be entertaining.
Clear from the plentiful laughter of the crowd.
Joffrey sat at his table. He purposely changed the layout of the whole sitting arrangement to make sure his entire family sat at one table—on his left were Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, and a few others. On his right were Margaery, Olenna Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, and finally Loras.
The wine was being served, and the food was being consumed. Thankfully, the city was in a much better shape and there was no discontent with the King's feast. However, it was only the King who refused to consume any food.
Where is the poison? Joffrey was sweating all over.
"Your Grace." But just when he thought he had enough headaches, he felt a soft hand rest on his lap from his left. "Why don't you eat?"
Fucking incestuous whore! Joffrey sneered at his mother. He had to lean forward a bit to hide her hand that dangerously crept closer to his loins. "I'll eat once I’ve cut the cake, Mother."
Cersei smiled delicately, dressed in the most regal outfit she had recently bought. Her hair was done loose, perhaps in an attempt to seduce her own son with her beauty. She clearly felt threatened by the presence of a young cunt for the King to enjoy as his wife.
"I'm so proud of you, my Joff," she whispered to him. Her fingers finally landed on his semi-erect cock at the same time. She dared not hold him, but she knew how to make a man hard with the soft caresses of her fingers. "Removing Tyrion from the Small Council was the right move."
Yet another ambitious bitch. Joffrey sighed tiredly. How can I curse Margaery when my own Mother eyes to seize my throne's authority?
"He made a mistake and I had to set an example, Mother," Joffrey replied, not fully hard in his breeches. One look at Cersei's face and that smile revealed how delighted she was by his body's natural reaction. The look of victory made it clear that she saw him as a tool more than a son.
Fuck!
He cursed when Cersei went beyond what he thought was the limit. She grabbed his girth in a fist and squeezed him.
"My lion," she purred, her voice a blend of silk and steel. "I’m fully aware of your splendid wife and the obligations that bind you to her. But do not, for a moment, forget the lonely mother who awaits your attention. Remember this; I’m the one who will always go to any lengths for you… anything you could ever need."
Joffrey's face turned to her all of a sudden. Does she mean what I think she means?
"I’ll remember, Mother. Ah, look, the play is ending." Joffrey shifted into his seat abruptly and scared Cersei's hand away.
The team of midget entertainers finished their little play and bowed before the King.
Clap clap!
Joffrey started and the rest of the banquet followed. But then he followed through and raised his hand towards his beloved Kingsguard, Val, who stood behind him. The mighty woman quickly handed Joffrey seven small silky pouches.
"Splendidly entertaining, my little friends." Joffrey declared and got up from his seat. "Seven of you, come forth and collect your reward—Fifty Gold Dragons apiece!"
The team of seven dwarfs rushed up to Joffrey's table and orderly received the pouches into their little hands. No shaming, no naming, Joffrey maintains a regal smile on his face. From the side of his eyes, he noticed Tyrion's appreciation as well. He may be reprimanding Tyrion, but that didn't mean he was willing to gift him to the mother of dragons. If anything, he wanted more of Tyrion's loyalty.
I hope you'll like the gift I've prepared for you in the brothel tonight.
As he took his seat, the musicians began playing their tunes. It was time for the cake to be brought in. But the guests were also free to stand up and walk around to chat. He noticed a couple making their way to his table at that moment.
And for the first time in a long while, Joffrey found himself entranced by a lady's beauty. Who is she?
"Your Grace, congratulations on your newly married life." The woman leaned down at his table to so confidently extend the back of her hand towards Joffrey. But it was unclear if she wanted to greet the King or showcase her expansive cleavage between that shapely bosom.
Joffrey was taken aback for a moment. Not just him but his cock admired her—beautiful, curvaceous all around, tall, and with a bust that could make any man curious. She had olive skin, thick black hair, and large dark eyes. Her choice of dress was modest with a small cut near her upper thigh, which revealed her smooth, tanned long legs.
He finally kissed the back of her hand but didn't let her retrieve it as he continued to stare at her face. "You are…"
"Haha, forgive my lapse in etiquette, Your Grace. I am Taena Merryweather, wife to Lord Merryweather of Longtable in the Reach." She introduced herself.
I'm hard. Joffrey was surprised to feel such an effect from a woman. Her throaty laugh felt seductive, and her accent was exotic. "Myrish?"
Taena giggled and japed. "What gave it away?"
I want her. Joffrey made up his mind as he forced himself to look away from her dark, ripe lips. I'll need a new pet after Margaery.
He laughed at her joke and released her hand. "I'd love to know your tale."
"All it takes is some fine wine, Your Grace."
That’s it. I want her in my bed. He didn't know if she was being this sultry on purpose or if it was just her nature. It didn't matter anymore.
"In that case, I have a few surprises for you," he flirted back.
As if Taena knew how to make men crave for her, she stepped away to leave. "I'll await your summon, my King."
Joffrey refused to avert his gaze from her heavenly curvy hips, wide and big, perfect for her height and size. How much he felt like tearing that gown apart and exploring her depths… Heck, he felt she even smelt different—exciting.
"You look exquisite, child…"
There she goes. Joffrey noticed Olenna approaching Sansa at last. He didn't look at her but kept his ears open. He listened to her praising Sansa for being strong and beautiful and blessed the little baby girl in her arms. This… This bitch killed me once.
All of a sudden the heaviness of the moment settled into his heart. This was it, the moment where it all began. This was when he died and was revived back in time. If he were to fail yet again, he didn't even want to think of such shame.
"Your Grace," Margaery interrupted his thoughts.
Joffrey looked at his wife and found her less ravishing all of a sudden. The lack of flesh on her chest no longer felt acceptable. It doesn't matter now. I've had my fill with her.
"We should pay Prince Oberyn a visit after the feast," Margaery suggested, her words loud enough for Cersei to hear them. "He came to celebrate our union, and yet cruel fate turned its face upon him."
"Let's do that." Joffrey agreed right away, trying his best to ignore the rising turmoil in his mind. But just then the cake was brought before him.
When? When will she make a fucking move?
Without a word, he unsheathed his sword and walked over to the cake. So many thoughts went on in his head that he failed to control his strength.
Bam!
He sliced the cake, but also some of the table it was on. Thankfully the pigeons hidden inside weren't harmed and flew away in a spectacle, earning him the claps and cheers of those nearby.
Is it in? He looked at his wine goblet on the table, curious when the poison would be added.
Very soon the cake was brought to him on a small plate. It was Margaery who took it and scooped a spoonful to feed him. That raised alarms in his head right away.
Is this it?
"Your first, my beautiful queen." Joffrey took the spoon from her and turned the same scooped cake around. But to his utter surprise, she smilingly ate it. "How is it?"
"As sweet as you, my love," she proclaimed and fed him this time.
Seven, bless your pawn. Joffrey took the bite and swallowed it without even chewing it once.
Cough!
He didn't feel anything in his throat, but he tried to mimic his last death.
But instead of asking for the wine, he returned to the table and sat down. The celebrations continued from there as everyone got busy eating.
Is this it? He glanced at the full goblet of wine before him.
Carefully, he dipped his finger in it as if he were trying to pick it up. Then, to 'scratch' himself, he put that hand into his tunic where the little bird prepared by Melisandre was sitting silently.
Taste it. He felt the bird tapping its small beak on his finger. Just a moment later, it stopped moving. He still felt confused and looked towards the backside of the visitor's seat where Melisandre was sitting. Although subtle, he noticed her head nodding in his direction.
He felt dry in his throat right away. So dry that even gulping the blob of his spit felt impossible. His heart raced and his pulse went wild. Right before him was the glass that ended it all for him, and in a way, where everything new started.
This is it… This is the poison.
With care, he gripped the goblet of wine and raised it towards his lips. He could feel there was a piercing gaze on him.
"Ah!" He stopped midway and looked at Margaery. "My lovely queen, will you kiss the wine first to make it sweeter for me?"
"K-Kiss?" Margaery stammered for no reason.
She knows. Meeting Oberyn? What a performance—smirking whore.
He could feel his blood starting to boil.
"Why not? Like the cake, the first one to taste should be you. It makes everything sweeter, my love." He cringed at his necessary words.
His hands rose towards Margeary's lips. The horror in her eyes was visible to Joffrey, and he loved every bit of it. Soon enough Margaery gripped his hand by the wrist as if to guide him. But he felt it, she just tried to topple the goblet over. But he was far too strong now for her to move.
"There you go," The goblet finally reached her lips and almost touched. "Make it as sweet as our lo—"
"STOP!"
Joffrey smiled wide at the loud roar of Olenna Tyrell. He looked at Margaery, her eyes were brimming with tears.
Then he looked back at Olenna and smiled even brighter.
Got you! You old bitch!
Comments
Chocolat
Dude!!!! Why the fcking cliffhanger??!!!! I wanna read more!!!
MrPlotThickens
Appreciate it bro. You'll understand the plot better in the next chapter. This incident is gonna get milked by Joffrey till the last drop. There are a lot of vested interests.
Goxo
This isn’t a request but a random idea. So you don't need to take it into consideration or anything for whatever you have plan for the future.
Goxo
So Margaery is dead right, but you know what can be a crazy idea. You could have Melisandre bring back Margaery back to life and be what Sansa was with Petyr and take on a new identity and live the rest of her life trapped in Kings Landings because I am pretty sure the Tyrell don't want to stay in the city after this. (I know dark) but that what's so crazy about it. Finally, I can't wait to see where you're going to take this story from this event. Till next time Author, Godspeed
DarkthShadow
And thus, history has forever been altered
