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GOT: The Golden Lion 19: The Snake, The Dog, The Mountain
🕑 Added 2024-07-11 06:55:27 +0000 UTCThe distant bells of the Sept of Baelor echoed across the city. The royal wedding was scheduled that day and all were excited be it the nobles or the smallfolk. The streets leading to the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep were decorated with flowers. Gold Cloaks roamed the streets with rugged looks since alcohol was banned for the day for them.
Yet the man who should have been the most excited was nowhere near as pleased. As if just another day, he donned his wedding robes and entered his work chamber to sit down and draft some ravens that he'd be sending out that evening.
Knock! Knock!
The door opened and Melisandre entered. Her footsteps were soundless, her red robes fluttered with her movement. Her gown with a particularly deep neck left little to the imagination.
"Did you bring it?" Joffrey asked her and relaxed in his chair while gesturing for her to come closer.
Lips pressed in a smile, Melisandre walked beside Joffrey's chair and lowered herself onto his lap sideways. Her soft rear pressed right atop the King's manhood while she felt his strong arm support her back.
"I did, Your Grace." She opened the small box she had brought. "But it only works once."
"I merely need it to work once," Joffrey said and felt Melisandre's body. Although he had no interest in her cunt, her mouth and body were sublime. His hand caressed the nakedness on her back, while the other one cupped her breasts as if he owned her.
Melisandre did her own thing and took out the tiny bird from the box. Carefully, she opened Joffrey's surcoat from the chest and then placed the little bird in the hidden pocket inside. "Once it feels there’s poison in something it eats. It will immediately die."
"Hm," Joffrey nodded, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, basking in the splendor of his kingly indulgences. His loins heated and hard under her full, bouncy hips, and his hands easily slid under her neckline, seizing one of her ample breasts. "Have you sent word to your trusted colleagues as I commanded?"
Melisandre let him do as he pleased. In her mind, this was nothing but an event predestined by the will of her god. This was just a part of her duty. Not a part that she hated either as she gulped when he pinched her taut nipples. On her own she grinded her hips on his lap, making sure the man felt the heat between the crevice with his masculine rod of flesh. "Yess~ Your Grace… They have started to move."
"Very well." Satisfied, Joffrey pulled her silken red gown down off her shoulders, sliding aside the straps. With that, her bountiful, glorious breasts came into his naked view. His hands became rougher, kneading them one after another. "What of the Iron Bank?"
"Ah!" Melisandre suppressed a moan. Their scandalous actions on the day of his wedding felt like a strange taboo. She had no idea what the King had planned for today, but her decision to stand with him was made long ago. "T-The Iron Bank will… Wait for you to approach them."
The faith of the Lord of Light is stronger than I imagined. They have pawns even in the Iron Bank? Joffrey silently mused over the indirect influence he had won. However, he knew the debt to the Iron Bank had to be paid eventually. But Melisandre earned him a little more time somehow. A year will be enough.
"I'm impressed," Joffrey replied and leaned down. His lips landed on her warm neck where he gently laid a kiss, then went downward while making her body lean further backward with his other support arm. Her breasts welcomed him right away, squeezed and suckled between his lips, the flushed nipples teased with flicks of the tongue.
"Aaaah! Y-Your Grace…" Melisandre accepted the passion as a sign of acceptance from her King. "I-ugh-It's my duty!"
Joffrey smiled with delight and stopped suckling her. He made her sit normally again. "So is pleasing me with your mouth."
"Your Grace, do you want to…"
"But I don't have the luxury of wasting my time today. There's much to be done, and it won't do itself. Make sure you're at the wedding, and keep a close eye on that old crone Olenna Tyrell without being noticed."
Melisandre jolted and stared at Joffrey abruptly, instantly realizing why the King wanted that bird. "She wouldn't dare to pois—"
At times like these, Joffrey doubted the red-lipped whore. Her faith in him was so high that she overestimated him, and if he were to blindly believe her, it'd be his doom. "You forgot. At the end of the day, they don't want a king to marry their smirking whore. They want a docile dog—I'm sure you know who that is."
She fixed her dress and silently nodded. Her mastery was in her faith, not politics. She had received plenty of visions but none concerning the Tyrells. "I understand, Your Grace."
Joffrey waved at her then and sent her away. He had his fill of bodily pleasure with Val the night before already. Today was the day to relish in the pleasure of blood.
He finished writing ravens, locked them in a safe for later, and headed to one of the rarely used stables near the Red Keep to find a secret tunnel. He knew about its existence and the other details from 'trustable' sources.
"For all the talk of pride and honor, Grandfather in the end remained a man no grander than Tyrion." Joffrey soon found the entrance to the tunnel and decided to head in with a torch. "Stand guard here, Sandor."
Dug for a King's Hand whose honor wouldn’t allow him to enter such a house openly. That was the only thing Joffrey knew about as Chataya refused to reveal the secret. There was fear involved, no doubt. Only Tywin came to his mind who could make Chataya refuse the King.
Walking through the long tunnel, he soon arrived at the end, from where the only way was up through a shaft to which a metal ladder was attached. He climbed up all the way to the top and felt some faint airy waves.
Knock!
He realized it was wood, so he pushed the blockage with a little force and easily gained entry into a secret cupboard. He walked into the cupboard and gently opened one of its doors to look outside.
She must have emptied it by now. He walked into the most luxurious room of Chataya's brothel, the turret room.
His nose felt attacked by a sweet, spicy aroma all of a sudden. He glanced towards the large, round canopied bed and saw none other than Chataya lying there on her belly. Alayaya, her daughter, was there too and poured oil on the dusky naked skin of her mother, massaging everywhere.
Joffrey amusedly smirked and appraised the woman's form. He had never seen Chataya bare, nor had he lain with her before. She was a tall woman, almost taller than Joffrey himself. She had an elegant body, her skin shiny and ebony. Her wide, heavy, and firm hips made Joffrey curse himself for never having her before.
Those legs. He gulped seeing her soft, thick thighs and calves. She was built like a warrior, yet graceful and beautiful.
"Getting oiled up, are we? Who is this big man seeking the owner of this establishment herself?" Joffrey asked, making his presence known. The matter intrigued him since Chataya rarely ever gave her time and body to men anymore. And those who could afford such coin were far too few.
Both the women looked at him. But Joffrey only focused on the one on the bed, since only she was naked as the day she was born.
"Welcome, Your Grace." Chataya greeted, her voice smooth and laced with the accent. She didn't get up and only turned her head towards him. "Lord Oberyn desires to celebrate your marriage with me tonight."
"My marriage? Ah… Understandable." Joffrey chuckled, quickly understanding it. After all, Oberyn and Dorne's long-standing desire for revenge was going to be fulfilled that day.
"Seeking pleasure here on your wedding day, Your Grace?" Chataya inquired then.
Taking a deep sigh, Joffrey walked closer to the bedside and got beside Alayaya. He took the jar of oil from her hands and took some in his palm before smearing it gently on Chataya’s curving, hot, small of her back. "You can go, Alayaya. I'll help my good… Chataya for now."
Giggling, Alayaya bowed and walked away to the door. "Call for me if you need anything, Your Grace."
Once alone, Joffrey resumed smearing Chataya's entire back with both his hands. From her nape to her shoulder blades, trailing along her spine, and eventually reaching her heavy hips. They felt like feathers under his palms, unable to resist the temptation to knead them. But he kept going down and squeezed the flesh of her thighs and calves. Oh, how much I'll love sliding between these.
"I didn't come here for pleasure today, Chataya. Not today, at least," he replied and went upward again, dangerously sliding his fingers close to her clean, hairless cunt. Oh, how much he loved the sight of that dark pink teasing view. Her entire body roared 'exotic' to his mind. "I need something done. Something about a whore."
As if she wanted the King to go further with her body, she took her sweet time to reply. Opting to remain silent and breathing heavily for a while. Only when she felt both his palms reaching for the overflowing breasts on the sides did she respond.
"Which one, Your Grace?"
"Her name is Shae," Joffrey replied.
He was hard as a rock in his breeches and it was really not easy to control the urges. He wanted to throw away all his clothes and slide right into her tight cunt. But he knew he needed energy for the rest of the day.
So he chose to simply make his favorite whore in the King's Landing drool around his fingers. One hand traced her spine, and then alongside the crack of her ass, curved down between her soaking hot thighs. The wet sensations of her dark Calla Lily petals aroused him even more, so he spared no time and slid two fingers in.
"Mmm~" Chataya vocally hummed. Enjoying the heated touch from the King. "Shae? I remember her. Lord Tyrion fancies her, doesn't he?"
"He does." Joffrey kept his words short as the view was magnificent. Her body, her height, her form, he wondered what it'd feel like to spend a night with her. She was bigger, heavier, and hotter than any other whore or woman he had seen.
"And her crime?"
Joffrey scoffed and shoved two fingers all the way in before beginning the quick finger fucking. "What happens to a whore who forgets her place?"
Yet again Chataya took her time, wanting to have her climax it seemed. "Most get killed, if not worse… torments. Do you want her dead, Your Grace?"
The wet squelching noises started to form and grow. Joffrey's hand never stopped sliding in her cunt. Hot, tight, and deep, he realized. But he was also a master of his craft and his thumb easily reached her clit despite her lying on her belly. The muscles of her plump bottom clenched as a sign of her approaching climax.
"No. But I want to course correct her life," Joffrey declared with a twisted smile. "It's my wedding, and there are plenty of wealthy men in the city. Find someone who can offer Shae a fortune for a night of pleasure. Give them this room, so my dear uncle can be reminded that, in the end, she is still just a whore."
"Ooh~" Chataya cooed and reached the brink of climax. "You sound confident that she'll accept the offer, Your Grace."
"Yesterday, she wouldn't have. Today? She will," Joffrey replied and stopped talking for a moment, putting all his focus on this fine specimen of a woman. His fingers fucking her damp slit, the teases to her clit also rhythmic. He enjoyed the feeling of his digits sliding into jelly-like, soft wet walls. The twitches inside, each time the tips of his fingers reached further in, excited him.
He knew she wouldn't mind at all if he were to jump on top and shove his hardness in. She may even welcome him with open arms and a greedy cunt, evident by the way her hips wiggled, her ass beckoning towards his hand, craving more and more.
But soon enough the music of her glorious moans echoed in that room. Her cunt, arse, entire back throbbed with the jolts of her body. The splendor of that oozing climax took over her mind and body. The orchestra of squelches reached its peak and found more dampness, soon enough as she came again and again with wild spasms.
"Aaaah…" She moaned and breathed out before finally settling in the bed like a lifeless doll. Unmoving, quite satisfied. "Heh… It's your wedding, Your Grace. Shouldn't I be the one presenting gifts?"
Pa!
Joffrey softly slapped her ebony asscheek and removed his wet hand. "Don’t fret, I'll claim what is mine when the moment is ripe... with interest."
She chuckled and turned her face towards him to look. "I’ll make sure the business with Shae is done as per your need, Your Grace."
"Inform me timely so I can bring Uncle to see his precious whore get shagged." Joffrey sneered as he wiped his damp fingers across her soft ass, striding back towards the cupboard. "Move the bed so the cupboard has a clear view of the action."
Chataya agreed right away, responding with a choppy hum of her voice.
Joffrey bid farewell then and returned the way he entered. Through the tunnel and once again back at the guarded stable. But he rushed now as the time to take the vows of marriage at the Sept of Baelor was soon approaching.
Before that, he just had one last thing to do. One lone woman who he needed to assure that everything was going to be alright.
He had learned his lessons from his past life. Especially regarding Sansa. If the girl could happily get her father killed, then there was no doubt she'd happily do something stupider after seeing him getting married to another woman. Killing herself? The baby? Or escaping the Red Keep? He didn't want any of that.
So, with quick strides, he arrived outside the closed door of Sansa's bedchamber. Oh, the fond memories he had of the place.
"Sansa? Are you in there?" Joffrey knocked a few times and tried to open the door. But it was locked from the inside. "Sansa? It's Joffrey. Open the door, I have something to talk to you about."
Click!
At that sound, Joffrey pushed the door open. At first glance, he saw Sansa in her regal gown ready to attend the wedding. Yet, her eyes looked swollen, watery, and red. She was most likely crying in there, it wasn't hard to guess.
"Stand guard here," Joffrey ordered the Kingsguards and walked inside. He closed the door behind first and then turned to Sansa. He said nothing and simply pulled her into a warm embrace against his chest.
Squeezing her body tight, he cared not for the wondrous, nectar-filled breasts pressing against him. He just maintained that embrace, her thin waist truly erotic in every way. He heard her crying again over his shoulder, so he caressed the back of her head, combing through her silky red hair.
"Shh… Don't cry, Sansa. Are you crying because I'm getting married?" He asked.
Sansa nodded strongly. "Y-You said… Everything will be a-alright but—"
"But it's already my wedding day and nothing has changed?" Joffrey completed her words and moved her away from the hug but kept her close. He gazed into her striking blue eyes and forced his lust and appetite to calm down. "You have such little faith in me? Sansa, you're my love, the mother of my daughter. As for that smirking bitch, she’ll be taking vows with me at the Sept."
"Vows?" Sansa panicked even more.
"Night—Wait until night. If you're still unsatisfied with me, I’ll do anything you want," Joffrey wagered. At best, he expected her to ask him to marry her. In your dreams, he'd say to that. But it was alright to let her dream.
Like a puppy, Sansa looked at his face in uncertainty. "You promise?"
Joffrey chuckled and squeezed her face gently with both his palms and pulled her closer. His head moved too and soon their lips locked in a passionate, heated kiss that left no part of Sansa's body untouched by Joffrey's moving hands. In the end, he settled one on her waist and the other on her rear.
"There, I sealed my promise with a kiss." He smiled warmly.
Ugh, I hate acting like this; Her so-called prince charming. Joffrey felt his stomach churn for some reason. Keeping Sansa firmly on his side was taking a toll, it seemed.
Sansa finally felt some peace in her heart and wiped her eyes clean. Then she firmly grasped his arm, "Will you walk with me to the Sept of Baelor?"
"There's always a risk of me dragging you to some dark alley and having my way, simply because you look too stunning. But I wouldn't mind," Joffrey jokingly said and walked out of the room with her. "Where is Joanna?"
"Arya is holding her for now. I was… too unstable." Sansa embarrassingly looked down.
Joffrey stopped her from feeling that way. "Forgive me, Sansa, but I must admit, it pleases me greatly to hear that. It means your love for me is genuine."
Her cheeks flushed a little and her heart started beating fast. Her grip on Joffrey's arm tightened, making sure he felt the softness of her breast that he loved so much. Yes, she knew what her royal lover liked the most. "It's more than that, Your Grace… I'd die without you."
So will your mother, foolish girl. Joffrey answered, somewhat fondly remembering the ripe body of Catelyn. He wondered what she'd birth. As for Arya.
Amidst the small talk, they arrived outside the Red Keep. There, Sansa received Joanna from Arya. Then, Joffrey invited his northern lover to ride with him in the carriage. Just the two of them.
On the way, he played with his little daughter. He had yet to see Tywin hold her and hear her name, but he was looking forward to it.
"You look more cheerful since Arya arrived." Joffrey brought the topic back on track.
In utter bliss, Sansa only nodded. She felt like a family with Joffrey at that moment. Sitting so close to him, her head on his shoulder, while their daughter was on his lap. "I feel… whole."
"How delightful to hear. I'm certain Arya is just as pleased to see you. Perhaps I'll ensure she remains in the Red Keep with you." Joffrey's tone was laced with a subtle menace. "Should I knight her, do you think? She strikes me as the sort who would revel in such an honor."
"Hmm… She's always been the sort who was more into swords and bows than sewing and etiquettes. I'm not sure, but I'd love to have her here with me." Sansa honestly answered, unaware of what she had unleashed on her sister.
With that, Joffrey clasped her hand and gazed at her face with a fondness that seemed almost genuine. His eyes, however, betrayed a steely resolve, a promise of reassurance laced with unspoken threats. A subtle smile, hiding a thousand schemes, played on his lips. "Then I shall do anything within my power to ensure she lives here with us… happily."
By then they had arrived at the Great Sept of Baelor. The Kingsguards opened the carriage's door and let Sansa out first. Then, at last, Joffrey stepped out to greet the crowd outside the Sept. A lot of smallfolk had gathered at the foot of the stairs.
Things were going much better for the smallfolk when compared to a few months ago. Now they had a decent amount of food that at least ensured they didn't starve. The sewers had been fixed, so the foul scent had dissipated. With the Golden Legion and Ser Arthur taking care of the law and order, safety was impeccable.
There she is. Joffrey’s eyes fixed on Margaery as she stood at the top of the stairs, outside the gates of the Sept. Her dress, a pale blue gown with a long train, trailed arrogantly against the marble floor. Sleeveless, with a naked back, and a neckline so deep, her cleavage was more than half exposed. A smirking whore indeed. Even on her wedding day, she dresses like a common whore.
"After you, Your Grace." She greeted Joffrey with a graceful bow.
Joffrey just nodded and walked into the Sept. It was a massive hall with large statues of The Seven. At the end stood the High Septon on the stairs, with the seven-pointed star on the wall behind. The smooth hum of the choir greeted his ears while the crowd of lords and ladies remained silent.
What a waste of coin. Joffrey sneered inside. He looked at his family and nodded. Of course, he didn't find any joyous smile on his mother's face. Right beside her was Jaime. It's your number after this.
Tap! Tap!
As he stood at the end of the altar, footsteps came from behind. Margaery walked in with her father this time and soon parted ways. Joffrey uncaringly placed his crown on his head and donned the regal cloak just then. Then he stepped closer to Margaery and extended her an arm to hold.
Ugh, that smile. Joffrey ignored her face for the time being. Once upon a time, it was a face he yearned to stuff his cock in. But now he just hated it. It was worthless even as a tool for sexual pleasure since she used her brain more than her mouth.
He followed the ceremony. Placed the cape on her shoulders and then let the High Septon tie their hands with a soft silken ribbon.
"Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of House Lannister and Baratheon are one heart—" The High Septon removed the tied knot. "One flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."
I have to kiss her? Joffrey cursed himself. But he had to act for the time being.
The two turned around, her hand in his. Joffrey smiled brightly and proclaimed his love for his beautiful wife. "With this kiss! I pledge my love."
Margaery giggled like a virgin maiden and leaned her face closer to Joffrey.
I hope her filthy mouth isn't poisoned. Joffrey sneered and stopped kissing once he felt the tiniest trace of wetness.
Finally, he looked back at the crowd again. This time his gaze landed on Oberyn first and then on Sandor behind the crowd. He raised his hand to stop the raining claps so his voice could be heard. "The king has claimed his queen, and now the feast awaits. But before we fill our plates, there remains the clash of fates. Uncle Jamie! Please guide us to the quick tourney."
Most of the guests were unaware of the so-called quick tourney. So they silently moved out of the Sept and headed to the Red Keep where temporary tourney grounds were established. After all, only melee was going to be a part of it.
Joffrey walked down the stairs with Margaery. Once he was beside Oberyn, he smiled and whispered. "Don't die."
"Not a chance." Oberyn confidently smirked and left to prepare.
Sandor Clegane had also left by then to prepare. He had received special permission from the King. Now, it was up to him to earn the right to battle the Mountain That Rides.
####
In the arena by the seaside. The spectators filled the seats, most of them nobles. The wine plenty, food in heaps, the first melee had already begun by the time Joffrey arrived with Margaery and took the royal seats as spectators.
Let's see how it goes this time. Joffrey recognized that it was the same place where Oberyn died in his last life. Although he hadn't seen it personally since he was also dead, the memory was still gruesome.
"Grapes, my love?"
Interrupted by Margaery, he looked at the single grape she was offering. "Not before the feast, Margaery."
"You need strength, my love. You need strength for the night," she insisted.
Is this poisoned? Joffrey had only one question on his mind. But he refused to waste the bird Melisandre gave him on a grape. He had already confirmed that Sansa had received a necklace from the Tyrells.
"I've more than enough energy to exhaust you all night. Let's focus on the tourney. A long-standing feud is to be settled today." Joffrey commanded her attention back to the arena. One by one, the men were eliminated, paving the way for more formidable matches. When only four remained, the stage was set.
Two men walked out of different gates and entered the hard-floor arena. Both of them were armored from head to toe, but one held a sword while the other a spear. One was as tall as eight feet while the other was a modest ordinary man.
"The next fight is between Lord Oberyn Martell and Ser Gregor Clegane!" The herald roared to announce the fighters.
He's wearing the armor. Joffrey took a calming breath seeing the Red Viper well equipped.
However, before the fight could begin, Gregor Clegane looked towards Joffrey and deeply bowed.
"Fight well, my champion! You represent me!" Joffrey shouted back, a subtle hint still hiding his true intentions. It wasn't easy to convince Tywin to give away his precious pawn. Of course, Joffrey didn't want to either.
The realm is slowly sliding into my palm. Joffrey relaxed in the soft seat, legs crossed while watching Oberyn circle around the Mountain and spin his spear. Tyrells and Martells… I'll have you two on your knees soon.
"...Have I told you who I am?"
"Some dead man!" Gregor Clegane charged.
Clash!
The two clashed their weapons a few times, gauging each other. Gregor's giant-like strength was clear from the start.
"I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why—Ugh, this damn helmet." Oberyn suddenly grabbed his red armored helmet and threw it away. "Why I’ve come all the way to this rotten city? For you!"
Clank!
Clash!
Oberyn was much faster, clearly. His weapon's reach gave him an advantage.
"I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick!"
"Haaaa!" Mountain raged forward.
The sound of metal clashes resumed right then. Oberyn's constant talking and the Mountain's grunts.
In the middle, Joffrey stood up from his seat and started to leave.
"My love, won't you see this to the end?" Margaery looked at her newly wedded husband curiously. She easily understood the historical significance of the fight.
Joffrey shrugged and pitifully looked at the Red Viper without his helmet. "Why bother when you know the end?"
"Hm." Margaery nodded and instead pitied Gregor Clegane's vile and worthless life.
"Send a word for me when Sandor enters the arena," Joffrey said and left to take a piss.
He had already made all his moves on the chessboard, after all. The only difference was that others were yet to notice as they busied themselves worthlessly planning.
The King wasn't even sitting on the board anymore.
The King had already won.
Comments
Goxo
I really appreciate how you have everything coming together seamlessly. Till next time Author, Godspeed.
MrPlotThickens
It was almost the regular 5k length bro.
Lord Mehmeh
Bro this was so short
