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GOT: The Golden Lion 16 - Plots & Reunions
🕑 Added 2024-06-01 03:56:26 +0000 UTCHer hands tightly clenched on the sheets, her lips pressed together to suppress her moans. Her face shook left and right as she felt the electric pleasure run through her being. Joffrey's hot breaths, his scorching tongue on her slick entrance, and the clit made all the difference.
"Umh…" She tried her best. But this being her first sexual encounter in more than a year, it was hard to control herself.
However, midway Joffrey felt something lacking. While he pleasured the redhead, he found the lack of stimulation between his legs displeasing. So, he stopped and quickly slid back atop Sansa, reaching for her face, his stiff member already resting against her sweet petals, probing with gentle brushes.
"Y-Your Grace…" Sansa whispered. "Arya might wake up… We can—"
Joffrey ignored the words from her and with a simple adjustment of his knees, he spread Sansa wide, his member beginning to slide in, slowly with a faint push, savoring the taste like a finely aged wine.
"Raise your hips," Joffrey ordered.
"Oh!" Sansa moaned as she tried to do as he demanded, but that earned her a moment of her lover's hard flesh sliding in. But she entertained it and let Joffrey push up her loose gown, and completely remove it off her head, leaving her as naked on the bed as the man mounting her.
For so long, she longed to feel his warmth against her body again that she quickly reached for Joffrey's neck and hugged him. She pulled his face down and smoldered his lips with wolfishly starving kisses.
Joffrey let her, as his cock continued to slide deeper and deeper with each throb, each clench of her tightness brought divine pleasure, and each time she relaxed he shoved in deeper. Her moans remained restricted to low hums as she hid her voice in their kisses.
No reaction? Joffrey noticed Arya still lying straight from the corner of his eyes. Faking it? Even better then.
"Mmm~" Sansa moaned into his lips as Joffrey gifted her the first long thrust, planting his entire length until his balls clapped below her speared noble slit.
But Joffrey couldn't keep his mouth on Sansa to suppress her moans when he had fine, full breasts right under his chest, leaking with watery nectar that coated his chest sticky wet. While his length glided in, his back arched and his face lowered. Both his palms cupped her soaking ripe breasts, pressing them up and together.
"Hm…" Joffrey admired the cushiony sensation, never having expected the lithe, slender Sansa to have such fine curves. However, he was all for it, and quickly sealed his lips atop the tight button-like nipples.
Sansa squirmed, her legs arose and clutched around Joffrey's waist as his hips kept grounding the royal cock tight, deep, but slow. She clenched her teeth to not make any sound, her hands ruffled Joffrey's hair, her head twisted left and right.
She loved it, she longed for it, and she felt excited by the risky sex. But at the same time, she wanted it to be quick, or else she feared Arya wouldn't ever stop teasing her if caught.
"Oh!" She yelped.
Despite her wishes, Joffrey only went stronger, suckling her teat with childish hunger, drawing her cream, and tasting her. She didn't mind and caressed his head, every inch of her body belonged to him, body and soul. Embarrassed? Indeed. But she loved the attention from her lover, her King.
Joffrey breathed deeply while suckling her. The last time it was Mhaegen, but Sansa felt so different. Mhaegen was a whore, but Sansa was his woman—the only cock she had ever taken was his, and the only man she had ever laid with was him. Even her drenched cunt was perfectly molded to his needs.
Like he owned her, he suckled, tasting the sweet milk of her breasts. Honestly, he hated milk, but when drinking it this way, it was arousing. As if it gave his male member an edge, his cock felt firmer and his hips moved harder, fucking his woman with deep plunges, shoving her body up against the headboard on the pillow, the clapping of their sex became audible and the bed jolted.
"Ummm–oh~" Sansa panicked. This was harder than she had expected. "Yess~" Yet she loved all of it.
Joffrey gave his full attention to both breasts and once he felt satisfied, he went back to her face and kissed her, their lips turning into a creamy mess. He gripped her face with his arms and glided into her soaking pussy with heated passion.
Long, deep, fast; in heart-throbbing and thrilling moments he maintained that rhythm. However, as soon as Joffrey felt he was on edge, he stopped and pulled out. He beckoned and used two of his fingers to gift Sansa her release.
He wanted her utterly wasted for his game with Arya to start. So he teased her clit, widening her petals with his fingers and his thumb. He caressed her belly, and pinched her nipples until Sansa clasped her mouth with her own hands, her back rising in an arch.
The dam broke and she finally let go, spilling jets of warm squirts. It was a passionate release after a very long time and she couldn't control it. Her legs spread and raised, her hips jolted with each spasm of squirt. Bliss covered her whole being, her face flushed red; her body too sensitive to her lover's touch.
Joffrey relished, smiling at her reactions. She's too madly, deeply in love.
He sensed her body calming down and the tension relaxed. He tried to turn her body over. "Hands and knees, Sansa."
Sansa gulped, realizing he wasn't done. But how could she say no when she loved every bit of it? Silently, she turned around on the bed, got down on her elbow, folded her knees, and raised her hips up, giving Joffry a view of both her entrances.
Tsk, wish there was more light. Joffrey sighed at the nighttime and the lack of candles in the room. But he made peace with it and quickly shifted behind her, his hand stroking his length while he aimed.
"Mmm…" Sansa clenched tight as soon as she felt Joffrey’s cockhead on her blushing slit. He slowly squeezed in, both his hands resting on her rear flesh, spread palms clenched tight, burning her with heat.
Joffrey closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation of her tight silken clenches. His cock constricted, the skin pulled back and forth with his thrusts. She was still as tight as ever, perfectly shaped for his cock like her first night.
The bed creaked a little as he paced faster to reach his need as well. But when he opened his eyes again, he realized something. Arya had shifted, no longer sleeping straight, but rather her back was facing him and Sansa.
Oh? What’s this? Joffrey noticed Arya's legs tightly clenched together, faintly moving as if rubbing together. He couldn't see her hands, but he noticed her arms were straight and somewhere near the junction of her thighs. Warmed up already?
The urge for more exceeded his control and he pounded harder, diving in with his cock and leaning forward over Sansa's hips. He ground his cock for a moment with each plunge, making sure she felt him as deep as possible.
Her dainty thin fingers clenched onto the sheets, her toes curled as Joffrey himself felt his release coming close. Sansa’s clenching tight walls were just too good for him to deny his own climax.
"Ugh…" Joffrey grunted and noticed Arya flinching due to it. He smirked and finally let go of all his control and slammed in with one last bursting push. His balls completely emptied, her cunt draining him dry.
The jolts of his hips continuously thrust forward faintly, his cockhead almost exploding deep inside, painting her insides creamy white. Her cunt milked him like he did her mounds. He remained buried deep for a very long time even after Sansa lay flat, him on her back.
Their ragged breaths refused to calm down for a while as they both closed their eyes. Joffrey's cock slid out of her leaking flower on its own.
"Drink the tea, Sansa," Joffrey whispered into her ears, his lips almost nibbling on her earlobes. "I want another, but not so soon. Let's wait for Joanna's first nameday."
Sansa, lost in bliss, merely nodded her head and hummed back. Too sore down there, too sensitive all over. She simply closed her eyes and fell deep into sleep.
"Ah… So tired." Joffrey mumbled and slid aside from Sansa's back. But he purposefully landed between Sansa and Arya and relaxed there for a while.
His eyes, however, continuously noticed Arya's faint little movements. Now he was sure her hands were between her legs, her loose nightgown was most likely bunched up from her front.
But he couldn't see anything as her back was facing him.
No problem. He thought and waited a little more for the perfect moment to strike.
After a few long moments, Joffrey was sure Sansa was asleep. So, he acted asleep too and suddenly turned sideways and hugged the body closest to him—Arya Stark. His naked chest pressed against her small back, his half-erect cock pushed against the middle of her rear, perfectly landing in the deep valley.
His arm quickly slid over Arya's lithe, thin waist, hugging her and pulling her closer. Meanwhile, his face rested behind her nape, his breath giving her goosebumps, the softness of his lips like a dangerous tease.
"Umm… Sansa…" Joffrey mumbled and took complete liberty to touch Arya all over. His hand hugging her waist moved, going up from her belly to rest on her small breasts, barely filling his palms. But he still touched there, stopping once he felt the softness. "My… Sansa… hm…"
Joffrey's eyes were opened, and he heard Arya's gulp. Let's see how long you stay still.
He moved his lips right then, kissing her neck sloppily as if moving in his sleep. His cock arose to its complete strength as well, probing her gown from behind, trying to squeeze between her clenched legs.
Let's see. But he was very interested to see what she had done to herself. So, his hand moved from her breasts to her belly again, and then it slid down further towards her loins. Oh, I like this.
As he had expected, her gown was bunched up at the front, her slender short legs were naked, and her smallcloth missing as well. He thanked the gods for the Stark sister's sleeping habits without smallclothes.
Aroused or not? It was hard, but Joffrey lazily, sloppily kept moving his hands while taking Sansa's name. He tried to squeeze his fingers between her clenched tight legs and claim her virgin tight slit. He reached the trace of her pubes, but the way further down was tight. Alright, I'll play this game then.
"Hmm… Oh, Sansa…" Joffrey moved his hands, giving Arya a sense of relief. But his palm traced her hips and raised her gown from the backside as well. Right away, his straining cock felt the warmth of her naked skin, her round but petite ass couldn't tuck him in between.
Joffrey smirked and pulled his hips back a bit, then with a slightly harsh push, he shoved his cock between her thighs. His length grazed past the opening of her virgin flower. It left the girl stiff, jolts of pleasure, no doubt.
Much better. Joffrey relished in the warmth of Arya’s thighs around him, throbbing with each subtle twitch of her body. But she was thin, and not as developed as Sansa or any other woman he had been with. He was sure his cockhead was peeking out in the air from her front.
"Ummm… One more time… Sansa-ha…" Joffrey moaned into her ears, his hand once again reaching for her slit. With his cock now stuck between her thighs, there was enough space for him to squeeze in one finger.
Wet as Winterfell. Joffrey smirked, feeling the slick heat of her slit on his finger, only getting wetter as his cock felt it too. Should I move? No, that's too much.
He kept his cock planted there, only clenching so it'd faintly shift. But he wanted to feel her more, so with her gown already bunched around her waist, his hand ‘innocently’ slid underneath, reaching her slender midsection. His palm was spread, and he swore by the Seven he almost felt her waist wiggle under his hand.
But he didn't stop and continued up, and finally, his palm landed atop her small breast, her tight nipple not as defined, but traceable under his palm. He kept rubbing there instead of fondling, touching both her hills.
Good… Squirm against me, Arya Stark. Joffrey felt Arya reacting to him. It took every ounce of control to not start thrusting, or sliding right inside, take her right then and there, ruin her, and make her scream his name.
But he knew it might work that night, but in the long term, it'd be a lost battle. So he maintained the illusion of his sleep and continued to rub his palm all over her breasts, her belly, squeezing his hips and cock.
With his height towering in comparison, and with his body muscular and trained, he felt Arya's form stuck entirely against his front. You've grown into a fine toy, Arya Stark.
"Hmh… My Sansa…" Joffrey murmured, realizing Arya had begun to move her hips on her own, loosening a little and sliding his cock back and forth, making sure it rubbed her unexplored entrance, teasing her petals to no end.
She's warm... Joffrey knew she was searching for a release. He wondered if she had ever been touched by a man before. But he felt she was experienced enough to at least know what she was doing.
Oooh? This girl! Joffrey almost gasped when he felt Arya's hand reach between her legs. With her slender fingers, she captured the underside of his cock and pressed it harder against her entrance.
She kept moving her hips, each time almost getting impaled by his cock. But each time she merely let his cockhead tease her tight lower lips, coating the rest of his length with her juices. Her breathing was audible, suppressing her moans.
Joffrey stopped doing anything from there. His lips pulled back from her neck, his palm stopped rubbing her breasts and landed over her belly as if lifeless.
No, no, Arya Stark. Not this early. Joffrey abruptly hummed and shifted back, away from Arya, and then turned to lie flat on the bed. You'll have to earn that sweet climax with your sweat, tears, and… blood.
He could feel Arya was disappointed from the lost sensation. She stopped moving, fearing Joffrey would notice her movements. At that moment, she lost the heat with great dissatisfaction.
As for Joffrey, he had his lover Sansa to hold. He turned towards the redhead a few moments later and spooned her, once again sliding his length between her feminine lush, soft thighs.
Although free to drive in and make love once again, he decided to sleep since his days had started to grow more and more busy. However, he couldn't deny this was an enjoyable night.
I'll have to make Sansa want to have Arya continue to sleep with her. Slow and steady, I'll have her soon.
He decided and closed his eyes.
####
His daily schedule had become too formal and punctual. So scared of his death and the White Walkers, he always woke up early in the morning just before sunrise. It had become a routine, a mental clock that made him wake up at the same time every single day.
Finding himself sandwiched between the two Stark sisters, he carefully slid off the bed, kissed Joanna's forehead in her cradle, and left the room. It was time to complete the morning training that began with a jog across the Red Keep towards the terrace arena.
Following that, some weighted exercises for his arms, and legs, and finally trained with his warhammer and sword. Jaimie wasn't available, so he trained with Sandor Clegane instead. He preferred Sandor in reality, as the man had no concept of holding back.
Same for Bronn, as the man was brilliant when it came to winning. Unlike the Knights that Joffrey considered fools, he only cared about winning a battle no matter what. In that aspect, there was no better teacher than Bronn. There was no honor in death, Ned Stark was a prime example.
Three hours later, panting like a dying dog, and dirty from the mud on the arena floor, he took a bath and donned his regal clothes, but less eye-catching than before. No longer he maintained a cape on his back or any expensive rings. Being practical and decisive was all that he had learned in this second chance at life.
He understood that all the luxuries he had were his because of his status as the King. To maintain all those luxuries, he needed to remain the King.
Soon, he arrived at the throne room and sat on the Iron Throne. His various members of the small council presented themselves at the same time to assist him. Only two days were left for the wedding, and the entire city was cheering up for it. King Joffrey was no longer hated—the man who cleaned up the gutters, fed the poor, and won wars.
Plenty of gold was spent from his pocket on sending bards to spread rumors, make songs of valor about Joffrey, and turn him into a legend. It was working greatly as Lord Varys often informed him.
"Your Grace, there is only one person requesting an audience." Tyrion read through the parchment that was usually full of names. "It's the owner of Chataya's Brothel, Chataya herself who seeks help."
Aren't you a fast one, Chataya? Joffrey inwardly smiled and nodded, permission for her entry.
Soon, the curvy, tall, dark-skinned woman entered the hall. Her graceful walk was so seductive that all the men there drooled at her shapely hips, while the women enviously compared themselves to her.
"Speak your mind, Chataya," Joffrey addressed her. Since she was a whore, he refrained from calling her 'Lady' as he would have done to most other women.
Chataya bowed her head first, then locked her burning hot sandalwood-colored eyes with the King. "Your Grace, I feel embarrassed to come here regarding this matter, but it's only you who can help me. An unruly guest has taken home in my brothel, and after spending nights of drinking and… being entertained, he refuses to pay."
Joffrey frowned, a ruse. "For such a puny matter you seek an audience with me? Woman, have you gone senile? You have wasted my ti—"
"It's fifteen thousand Gold Dragons, your grace!" Chataya interrupted.
The entire court gasped, and Joffrey fell silent for a moment. Frowning, he looked at Tyrion and whispered to him. "Who is the customer? Is it the Martell?"
Tyrion was as confused as the rest. "My guess is as good as yours, Your Grace. But the amount of gold is worth an entire village."
Joffrey sighed and looked back at Chataya. "Who is this guest? Can you reveal his name and origin?"
Chataya hesitated a little, acting perfectly as ordered by Joffrey. "H-He's a noble Lord, Your Grace… It's Lord Edmure Tully, the Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident."
The court not only gasped this time but also fell into loud murmurs. Sansa, in the distance, looked uncomfortable as the man was related to her.
"Where is he?" Joffrey asked.
"He's drunk and unable to move, Your Grace. We have taken good care of him these past few days. But he now refuses to pay, claiming he has no such money," Chataya replied, taking a more pitiful stance, her hands clasped together in front of her.
You did well, Chataya. Joffrey stood up and looked at Sansa for a very short moment. He hoped it'd scare her a little, an important aspect of their confusing relationship. Sansa must never learn to stand up for herself, or else he feared she'd become the foolish, but fearless proud Lady he remembered from his memories of the different life.
"Very well, I shall go and meet with him myself. I wanted to take a stroll around King's Landing and see how the people are living now… See if the sewers have been kept clean as per my order." He walked down the flight of stairs and approached Chataya, glancing at her sizable bosom with keen interest for a moment. "Walk with me."
Finally, Joffrey gave a look at his Kingsguard—Val, Sandor, and Jamie—the three led ten more Kingsguard and surrounded him. Of course, Val walked to his left as he liked her company.
Val, his beautiful prized possession. She was the one who calmed his sexual frustrations the most. No matter how hard he fucked her, she only gave him moans and demanded more. On top of that, she had already defeated Sandor once, but also lost once. She was yet to defeat Jaimie, though the rest of the Kingsguard had been tamed by her already.
Joffrey walked around the city, receiving greetings from the smallfolk. Visiting the docks first, he checked the managers there to weed out any corruption. Speaking with a few notable traders, and even the lowest of the lowest porters about their lives.
Although he couldn't help them with their hard lives, nor gift them money on a whim. He found solace in the fact that they weren't starving anymore. King's Landing had enough food now with the Riverlands at peace. The dependence on the Reach had decreased already.
Following that, Joffrey chose to take a stroll through Flea Bottom. Having learned his lesson from his previous life, he was careful about any riots.
"Much better than before," Joffrey muttered, unable to find waterlogging in the streets.
"New sewers do that," Tyrion barked, exhaustion in his voice. "Look at the ground, o' noble King."
Joffrey glanced down and noticed strange stone slabs at each interval. Each of them had holes in them. He wasn't dumb and realized they were meant to drain rainwater. The entire new sewage system was made under the road.
"Good job, Uncle." Joffrey looked at Tyrion with great appreciation. Making him the Hand was perhaps the best decision he had made. Tyrion did have his weakness, whores, but at the same time the man was competent.
Joffrey walked the narrow streets, at times arriving at major open areas. He greeted the crowd there, looking at the faces of everyone, but only looking for the one that mattered the most. Where are you? Where are you, traitor?
Joffrey walked almost all of Flea Bottom in search. Finally, with almost an hour passed, he noticed the old wrinkly face.
"Val," he whispered to his cherished Kingsguard. "You see that old man on the right? White clothes, bald head, furious eyes? I want you to take Ser Clegane and grab him. Bring him to the dungeons. Don't make noise, and be quick."
Val subtly nodded and walked over to Sandor. She waited for Joffrey to leave before going ahead with the mission.
Meanwhile, Joffrey arrived at Chataya's brothel. Accompanied by Tyrion, Joffrey entered the small room and found Edmure Tully sleeping on the bed, mumbling nonsense, and empty bottles lying all around the room.
Joffrey sighed, rubbing his face. "Can Riverrun afford to pay this bill?"
"Not at the moment," Tyrion answered. "This fish isn't known to be very smart."
"Then summon the fish that has some brain. I remember he has an uncle? Doesn't he? Send a raven summoning him. Until then, lock this one in the guest house," Joffrey ordered and looked at Chataya. "I will pay the bill, Chataya."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Looking sad, dejected, and angered, Joffrey left the brothel and walked back towards the Red Keep. Even Tyrion was unaware of what Joffrey was cooking, leading to his own frustration with managing the coffers.
"Your Grace, the wedding is expensive. I'm afraid we can't feed this fish." Tyrion warned Joffrey.
Joffrey, still smiling, just strolled back to the Red Keep. "Don't worry, Uncle. Everything is under control… everything."
"..."
Tyrion had no darn clue what Joffrey was saying. In all honesty, he didn't have the energy to care either. This Joffrey was clearly not the dumb brat he once knew.
####
As the night approached, Joffrey entered the castle's dungeon with Val and Sandor leading him. There were a few other prisoners kept there that wailed all the time.
Amidst that, Joffrey was soon led to a locked cell with the same old man from Flea Bottom. The man was naked, his arms tied up against the wall, and bruises covered his entire being.
"Hello, High Sparrow." Joffrey walked inside the cell. "Val, give me your dagger."
The old man stared at Joffrey with terror in his eyes, unable to understand why this was happening. He had been careful all this time to never share his plans or thoughts with any. So how did this boy King know his future title?
"W-Who are you?"
"Your death, you filthy beggar," Joffrey replied and stepped forward.
Bam!
He jabbed the dagger straight into the old man's neck and pulled it out to allow the blood to spray everywhere. He had zero tolerance for his enemies, and even less so for someone as dangerous as the High Sparrow.
"That was quick," Val muttered. "I thought you'd be interrogating him."
"No need, I already know his crimes," Joffrey replied dismissively and handed the dagger back to Val. "If this man was to be left alive… Insanity would have plagued this land. Let's go."
Joffrey ensured the man was dead before turning around and heading back upstairs.
"Heeeeelp!"
"Someone?!"
"Please save me!"
Joffrey frowned, feeling like he knew this voice. "Who’s this crying pig?"
"The one we brought from the North. Theon?" Val answered, already accustomed to her role as a Kingsguard.
"Theon Greyjoy?" Joffrey remembered the prisoner he had brought. "I had forgotten about him. Where is he? Bring me to him."
Sandor grunted and led the way into the dungeon paths. Damp and cold, devoid of much light. Soon after they arrived at an isolated cell, inside stood Theon Greyjoy, tied to the wall with his hands and knees apart, multiple bruises still covering his body.
"Your Grace! Please, I'm innocent! I didn't help the Boltons!" Theon cried at the sight of Joffrey.
"You can still speak?" Joffrey exclaimed with a sneer. "I remember ordering them to break you apart. Too bad, I'd have let you go if… Forget it, you're useless to me."
"Nooo! No, please don't go. I-I'll do it! Anything you say, I'll do it!" Theon pleaded, crying real tears.
Joffrey fell silent and stared at Theon's face for a very long time. His silence tormented Theon's heart. But Joffrey stayed mum for far too long. "Hmm… I want you to go home and lay a trap against the Iron Islands, against your house, and bring your sister to me. I’ll make you the new ruler of Castle Pyke for it."
"I'll do it! I-I'll do it, Your Grace!" Theon agreed immediately.
Joffrey sneered and stepped back, turning around to leave. "I know a traitor when I see one. Too bad… I think you need a little more education before you become obedient. Let's go, Val."
The swords and steel of their armor clanked. They all returned to the ground floor of the Red Keep amidst Theon’s distant cries.
It was evening, so Joffrey returned to his solar since dinner was still a few hours away.
I've yet to see Arya today. I hope she sleeps with Sansa tonight. Joffrey mumbled and approached his solar.
"Your Grace!"
Tsk, this scheming, smirking bitch. Joffrey cursed at the sight of Margaery, her smirk even more annoying to him than before.
"Y-Your Grace…"
Joffrey didn't spare her a glance and walked past her and entered his solar. His brows creased together, his face annoyed. He wasn't acting angry anymore but was genuinely angry. Margaery Tyrell was a pawn in his plot, and she betrayed his trust.
"What is this?" He noticed a folded parchment on his table. It bore the sigil of the Night's Watch. "Jon?"
With rushed fingers, he unfolded the parchment and read it. But instead of excitement, his shoulders fell in disappointment. It was just a letter to inform him that Jon Snow has yet to return from the expedition deep into the North.
Frustrated, Joffrey almost forgot all the victories he had earned recently.
Knock! Knock!
"Your Grace, please hear me once."
The very voice of Margaery enraged him, burning in his heart like a blazing pyre. He once liked Margaery as a useful tool and a beauty. Now, he saw no use in her, nor did her beauty entice him much.
"You may enter," he ordered.
The door opened quickly and Margaery rushed inside before Joffrey could change his mind. She closed the door behind her and took a few more steps toward the young King's table.
She even dresses like a whore now. Joffrey sneered at her choice of attire. A green coloured thin, sleeveless gown that was too tight for her.
Her hips protruded out in the back, her waist wide, while the neck was deep and plunging, revealing her front till her midriff, only hiding her handful breasts.
"You betrayed me," Joffrey sternly said, cold and unflattering.
Margery became nervous. She remembered the first time she met with Joffrey in his room. It was an almost similar situation, but back then she could still see lust in his gaze.
But now, there was only coldness. She felt her body go frigid but her skin was sweating. Her hair was done beautifully, silky and loose, but she felt tingles underneath them.
This time she had no plan. No trick to sway the King. Even her grandmother had simply told her to… Do anything you can to receive the King's forgiveness.
Margaery gulped, never having seen Joffrey this angry before. "Y-Your Grace, I wouldn't ever think of betraying you… I love you, Your Grace. I'm your queen to b—"
"Lies!" Joffrey bellowed and jumped to his feet, the chair behind him falling back with a thud. He walked around the table and approached Margaery, scaring her enough that she took steps back. "If you are to be my queen, then why don't I have an heir in my arms yet? Why didn't you birth my offspring?"
Margaery knew this matter would be brought up. "I-It wasn't my decision, Your Grace. I really wanted to have your blessing take life in me, I really did. But… It was my Grandmother who made me drink the moon tea… I swear in the nam—"
"And?" Joffrey approached her and stopped there, staring at her face coldly. Both his arms lay crossed, never touching her. "I am the King, am I not? Is my order beneath the word of your grandmother? You… You have ruined me, Margaery Tyrell… I wanted you to birth me an heir, my firstborn—not Sansa!"
Margaery's heart sank into the deepest void. Tears arose from her eyes, her head shaking nonstop. "I-I ask for your forgiveness… Please give me a chance, Your Grace."
Joffrey sneered and stepped back to his table. Instead of approaching his chair, he sat down on the table, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Margaery's form. "Tommen?"
So I was right. Joffrey noticed the faint flinch on Margaery at the name of his younger brother.
"You must have hoped, perhaps prayed to the Seven for my death. For the young, naive King to die in his battles in the North," Joffrey said, reading the situation better than Margaery or Olenna had expected. "You returned to the Reach in hopes of maintaining the illusion of your purity. In the hopes you'd get to marry Tommen after my death? He's easier to control, isn't he? I can understand your vile plot… I'd have done the same."
Horrified, speechless, scared—Margaery lacked any words to say. In no circumstance could she foresee any words able to pacify Joffrey.
"But… A word is a word," Joffrey added. "I have no choice but to marry you… a loveless, heartless marriage with the woman who betrayed me."
"N-No… Your Grace." Margaery cried, tears sliding down her face.
Joffrey scoffed. "Now, strip."
Margaery felt her knees go weak. Her heart raced in confusion. "Y-Your… Your Grace? What do you mea… This is unnecessary… I am your wife to be… We can do this on our first night togeth—"
"Strip!" Joffrey repeated, glaring at her. "Or leave!"
Comments
MrPlotThickens
Writing it right now. Next chapter will be for Golden Lion.
Jay-smither
When is the next chapter coming out for this fic?
Lord Mehmeh
I love this fic
Lord Mehmeh
The only reason I remember her is because the actress was a piece, anyway make her a holy advisor to the 👑
MrPlotThickens
Oh, I almost forgot about her. She's one nice milf. Sure, I'll add her to the story soon since Joffrey is going after the corrupt High Septon soon.
Lord Mehmeh
Can there be like a septa unella/Joffrey scene
MrPlotThickens
Tbh, she ain't much different from her granny either. She's too ambitious for her own good.
Lord Mehmeh
Kinda feel bad for Margery ,her grandmother sucks but you can’t abandon family unless they are incestuos whores.
