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GOT: The Golden Lion 13: King Joffrey, The Schemer
🕑 Added 2024-05-01 20:47:30 +0000 UTCTing!
Ting!
The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor rang continuously as Joffrey entered King's Landing through the King's Gate with his army marching behind him.
He hadn't expected anything, but now that he saw it, he felt his ego stroked just the right way. The throngs of smallfolk standing on both sides of the road, their faces thrilled with excited smiles, some shouting hails to him. The kids ran at the sides, alongside the marching army's pace, waving hands.
To top it all off, the buildings on both sides had their windows open, and smallfolk threw flower petals at him. Scentful, gentle, falling on his shoulders.
Seven hells! What did uncle do to make them this happy? Joffrey pondered, the memory still haunting him from his past life when the same smallfolk had caused a riot and dared to try and end his reign. Someone certainly did something right.
So, Joffrey raised his right arm and waved to the people, showcasing his bright smile. He had been gone for slightly over a year, and much had changed. His body had gone through more tempering as he lived in the harsh, cold North while continuing his training. His hair had grown a little, his frame more of a man now than a mere boy.
Oh! Joffrey particularly liked seeing a lot of pretty women, mature and young, blushing whenever he looked at them and waved. Interesting… Perhaps it's time to look for a few more personal bed warmers.
But for now, Joffrey paraded towards the Red Keep. The road was straight, but they didn't rush and let the people show their love for the King. Certainly, the tales of King Joffrey's victorious battles up in the North didn't go unnoticed. The proclamation of the end of the war had already been spread to every corner of Westeros.
"How are your studies going, Ser Arthur?" Joffrey asked his most valued knight beside him.
"I have learned to read, Your Grace. Not as fast as a native, but I am no longer blind to the parchments," Ser Arthur answered.
"Excellent." Joffrey scratched his chin and gazed up at the sky. With the sun still high, there was ample time before the dinner feast. "Summon the maester at once. I wish to have ravens dispatched to every noble house in the Stormlands. They shall be given a fortnight to respond, attend my court, and bend the knee to their rightful king."
"Should it be written as a threat, Your Grace?" Asked, Ser Arthur.
"No, they ought to know what I mean by now."
"Understood." Ser Arthur quickly summoned his trusted captain from behind and passed the order.
Meanwhile, Val, riding on Joffrey's other side, gazed at everything with eyes full of awe. She hadn’t even dreamt of a city as big as this, let alone see one. The number of people around, the buildings, and above all, the extravagant reception for the King himself left her speechless. She couldn't help but wonder if she made the best, greatest decision of her life following this man.
"Eh…" But there was one thing she disliked. "This stench."
"Hah, if this bothers you, you would have perished in King's Landing before. The last king? He didn't give a damn about keeping this place tidy. Didn't see the point in spending gold on it when he could spend it on whores." Joffrey replied, finding no stench in the air anymore. "This is the finest this city has ever been… at least in the past few decades."
"Your Grace, you speak naught but the truth," Jaime Lannister interjected, his steed trailing just behind Joffrey's. "How did you manage this feat? Look at them. They adore you."
"Just a couple of noble gestures and appointing a competent imp the Hand. Easy."
"Tyrion?!" Jaimie exclaimed. "Didn't father sto—"
"I'm the King, Ser Jaime," Joffrey snapped, his voice dripping with authority. His irritation at being challenged was palpable, more so than ever before. After all, he had conquered kingdoms, quelled rebellions, and basked in his own glory. "And rightfully so."
Ting!
Ting!
Eventually, the army reached the imposing Red Keep. It being Joffrey's personal army, everyone was allowed to enter the vicinity of the Red Keep and set up a camp near every single entrance to the castle.
In no time, the Golden Legion, by the orders of the King, replaced the Gold Cloaks, sending them all out to work in the city instead. Only the elite Kingsguard was allowed to remain behind as they protected the royal family.
As Joffrey walked up the stairs and reached the main entrance, he noticed a few familiar faces waiting for him there. Tyrion, Sansa, Cersei, and a few more faces that he recognized. Is that Arya Stark? She grew up fine.
However, Joffrey noticed a little bundle of clothes in Sansa's arms, and he already knew what it was. So he approached Sansa before meeting anyone and looked into her arms.
The young lady looked like a true woman now. Her face flushed, her complexion healthy pale, and her red hair neatly combed and tied behind her head. Her clothes were noble, and Sansa looked quite delectable to Joffrey with her fuller bosom.
"Welcome home, Your Grace," Sansa whispered softly, blankly staring at Joffrey, who looked so different now. "Your daughter…"
"My daughter?" Joffrey exclaimed and extended his arms. It was rare for Joffrey to show a genuine smile, but this was one of those moments. "Did you name her yet?"
Sansa handed over the baby to him, and Joffrey stared at the little girl in his arms. Her hair was something between blonde and auburn, while her eyes were deep blue. Pale as snow, she was going to be a famed beauty one day, he had no doubt.
"We were waiting for you, Your Grace," Sansa said. "Please name her."
Joffrey nodded and, without much thought, proclaimed the name of his firstborn. "Joanna… Joanna Stark… No child of mine will be called a bastard. Lady Catelyn has agreed to this."
Hearing Joffrey, the three Lannister siblings stared at him dumbly. They knew where that 'Joanna' name was inspired from—the only person for whom Tywin Lannister used to smile.
For a short while, Joffrey continued to stare at the little baby. Then he gave her back to Sansa and glanced at Arya, her stature still much shorter than him, but her eyes were ferocious. She was wearing men’s clothes—a tunic and leather pants with boots, a thin, needle sword dangled by her waist.
"Your mother and Jon Snow handed me letters for you two," Joffrey said and raised his hand towards the back, receiving a small bag from Ser Arthur. "If things go well, Jon will be coming to King's Landing later this year. I invited your mother too, but she wishes to rebuild Winterfell first."
He handed the two sisters letters with their names on them. Unsurprisingly, while Sansa was more interested in Catelyn's letter, Arya was more excited about Jon's letter.
No doubt, she'll be hard to tame. Joffrey could see it from her attitude. Arya’s short hair and proud, unyielding eyes were proof enough. It'll be an interesting game.
"Uncle," Joffrey looked at Tyrion. "Order the Small Council to gather. I shall hold a meeting right away. You can meet with Ser Jaimie later."
Tyrion shrugged, looking to the side where Cersei was busy speaking with Jaimie, her face overcome with delight. "He's occupied in any case."
With his incestuous whore, nonetheless. Joffrey saw Cersei's reaction, too, only to feel more hatred for her.
####
Joffrey arrived at the small council chamber and took his seat, waiting for the other members to come. The first one to return was Tyrion, but his lips were curved in a mischievous smile.
"W-Who are you?" Tyrion yelped, pointing his finger at Joffrey. "I-I sent a boy… but… y-you're a man!"
Joffrey, initially frowning, chuckled at the later part. Indeed, he was a changed man now. "I almost considered putting your head on a pike there, Uncle."
"Ah, there's my sweet King Joffrey." Tyrion finally took his seat beside the King. "We find ourselves in need of a new Grand Maester, Master of Ships, Master of Law, Master of Coin, and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Yours truly has been juggling the roles of Hand and Master of Coin with the grace of a dancing bear until now. As for the Master of Laws, I've temporarily pressed Bronn into service, and as for Varys... Well, Varys remains Varys, doesn't he?"
Clack!
Right then, the door opened, and Varys glided into the room, his hands concealed within the folds of his robes, his steps measured and deliberate.
"Welcome back, Your Grace," his voice smooth as silk. "It gladdens my heart to see you hale and hearty."
Right after that, Bronn of Blackwater arrived. Unfortunately, no other members were appointed to the Small Council yet. But the door opened again, and Ser Arthur, the commander of the Golden Legion, entered.
"Ser Arthur shall be the Master of Laws from now on. Ser Bronn will serve as his second in command," Joffrey announced, inviting the dark-skinned Unsullied commander to take a seat beside him. None of the council's members resisted his decision. "But it remains a question of who to appoint as the new Master of Ships. The crown needs to rebuild its fleet, not as grand as the Redwynes, but it must return to its past glory—before my idiot uncles decide to play rebel."
Joffrey became silent after that, pondering deeply. "Where is Margaery?"
"In Highgarden," Tyrion replied, looking at Joffrey with somewhat conflicted expressions. "There's a certain poetry to shattered expectations when the coveted prize ends up in someone else's hands, isn't there?"
"Lady Olenna must be furious," Joffrey asked.
"Pff…" Varys chortled suddenly, holding his laughter. "More than furious, Your Grace. Lord Hand tried to pacify her, but she whacked him with her cane… quite a few times."
"Haha!" Joffrey let out a hearty laugh, not bothering to conceal his amusement. "Well, it's her granddaughter's fault for not being fertile enough, isn't it? I'll have to have a little chat with her about that later. But for now, get a raven sent to Lord Redwyne. It's his chance to serve the crown. Have him send a competent man to be my new Master of Ships."
Tyrion and Varys' faces turned to Joffrey at that command. They couldn't help but feel uneasy since inviting another powerful house of the Reach in the Small Council before inviting the main powerhouse—the Tyrells, was akin to warning the Tyrells that the king wasn't happy.
"It shall be done, Your Grace." Varys agreed, however. He very much liked the stable and competent Joffrey and wished to see where the young King was leading his new strategy to.
"Ser Jaimie has returned. So, he will take over as the Lord Commander of the King's Guard. That leaves a Grand Maester, but I don't want someone like Pycelle this time," Joffrey said, feeling helpless in this matter. "Uncle, find me a good, unambitious Maester."
Tyrion scratched his beard wearily and agreed. "As you wish, Your Grace."
"Fantastic. So how is the realm doing?" Joffrey slumped in his seat, looking all casual now that it was time for him to hear them out.
Tyrion was the one to report on that. "For once, the crown's coffers aren't gasping for air. However, we're not exactly swimming in gold just yet. The coffers are filling, albeit slowly. It's a climb, but one that promises rewards in due time. And with the war behind us, I foresee a surge in trade."
"Unless someone becomes too ambitious," Varys added.
"Who is it now?" Joffrey asked tiredly.
"The Ironborn," Varys revealed. "My little birds have brought it to my attention; They are planning to attack the Riverlands and the North in its weakened state. Balon Greyjoy, it seems, harbors ambitions as vast as the endless sea."
"Tsk, those pests!" Joffrey growled, angered by the new headache. "They should have been eradicated years ago. How many rebellions are we going to tolerate? Those saltfuckers…"
"We cannot affor—"
Joffrey raised his hand to silence his uncle. "I will deal with them once Westeros is truly united. For now, get those birds flying to every lord and lady up in the Riverlands and the North. They need to know those Ironborn pests are on their way."
"It shall be done, Your Grace."
Joffrey then looked at Bronn. "Take Ser Arthur to the finest blacksmiths in the city. My Golden Legion needs a fresh batch of armor, and it better be the finest. And don't you dare try any of your shady tricks. Get him the best deal, or it's your head."
Bronn threw up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm a proper, noble knight now, Your Grace. No more dodgy dealings for me."
"Good. Let's end the meeting then."
With Joffrey's dismissal, everything but Tyrion got up and left the room. Then, Joffrey also got up to retreat to his solar and plan out some future actions.
"Are you really set on inviting the Redwynes, Your Grace?" Tyrion piped up just as Joffrey was making his exit. "Bringing them into the mix is like tossing wildfire on an already burning wound with the Tyrells. Not sure we can handle that kind of heat."
With an expression of irritation and his arms folded behind his back, Joffrey glanced at his uncle again. "Uncle, I fucked Margaery just as much as Sansa, yet only Sansa birthed a babe. Surely, even you can figure out why."
"Moon tea?"
"I ordered her not to," Joffrey spat out, his voice dripping with disdain. "Seems someone isn’t content with the king they've been blessed with. I'll see you at the dinner feast, Uncle."
####
Knock! Knock!
With hours left for the dinner feast, Joffrey chose to retreat to his solar and do some work. But then a knock came on the door, and he quickly straightened his back. "Enter."
The door opened, and an old woman walked in, her form proud, her clothes regal. The iconic pill-box hat and veil was still right atop her head. But her face didn’t hold the calm that she usually had. Replaced with a visible fury, an expression much against her political self.
"Take a seat, Lady Tyrell," Joffrey drawled lazily, barely bothering to gesture towards the old woman. He lounged in his chair, making no effort to rise and offer any semblance of respect. "I've been waiting for you."
Olenna strolled forward and sat down on the visitor's seat. She kept glaring into Joffrey's blue eyes, expecting the young King to speak. However, she failed to stay patient. "You have sullied the honor of my granddaughter! You have sullied the name of my great hou—"
"You sold her to Renly first. You—ugh…" Joffrey cut her off, but then his face twisted for a moment before he composed himself. "Let's not pretend we're clueless here. All you care about is seeing your precious little flower wear the crown next. You'd marry her off to anyone if it meant getting your way."
Olenna breathed deeply, hearing the young king like this for the first time. There was more authority, more pride, and more power in his expressions. "Despite knowing that, you spawned a bastard with the Stark girl."
"I wanted Margaery to birth me my heir first. Yet she remains barren," Joffrey replied, eyeing the woman maliciously. "Could it be the little Rose cannot bloom—"
"I fed her the moon tea," Olenna cut in sharply, not allowing Joffrey to finish his words. "I made sure she's not with your babe."
"Even after I specifically told her not to drink it?" Joffrey glared at her, finally finding the reason why a part of his plan didn't succeed.
You old, scheming whore! Joffrey was booming with fury in his heart.
"Can't have her womb filled before the knot is tied, Your Grace," Olenna said, regaining her own composure, as if she gained a victory by making Joffrey angry. "I’ll let the matter of Sansa Stark pass. You have done well giving a Stark name to the bastard. But the marriage cannot be delayed any—"
"I swore to Margaery that once I squashed that blasted war, we'd tie the knot. And now that I've done just that, why wait any longer?" Joffrey straightened himself up, his regal demeanor returning. "Pick a date, Lady Olenna. I'm ready to say our vows."
Olenna fell silent for a short while, staring at Joffrey. She kept a faint smirk on her lips, as if scheming, or trying to read the young King.
But she eventually stood up. "In one week!"
With that, the old Queen of Thorns left the room. Joffrey slumped back in his seat as soon as the door closed, and he looked down between his exposed legs. Long red hair, red lipstick, red eyes, skin paler than ash, and her stoic mature charm everpresent, but currently with a smile, for it was her pleasure to please her lord.
"Umm… Ungh…"
Joffrey grabbed the ancient red priestess' crimson hair, combing his finger deep, and then shoved her face on his aching cock back and forth, almost on the edge of his release. She gagged and made gulping noises of wet, sticky spit mixed with his pre-cum.
Her hair was a mess after sucking her Chosen One's cock for almost an hour, she felt a loss of breath. Her makeup was ruined, but she remained unbothered and didn't stop. For her, to please her Chosen One was to please her beloved Lord of Light.
"Ghk! Ghk!"
Joffrey went wild with her, seeing no use to this woman than being his cock pleaser. Of course, he knew she understood magic, but he felt her mouth was more useful at the moment.
"T-Take it!" Joffrey groaned and finally edged himself to a release, spilling out with warm jolts of his pumping cream. He heard the gulping sounds right away. Despite her ruined state, Melisandre used her tongue to lap up all of Joffrey's release and swallow it down her throat.
Breathing heavily, Joffrey let her suck him clean as he let go of her hair, and truly relaxed back in his chair. He talked with her unashamedly, as if he didn't just fuck her face to ruin. "Melisandre, is there any magic that can alert me of poison?"
"Umm…" Melisandre was still licking his calming cock, her hand clenching the base of his shaft. "Po-oh-poison in your body?"
"No, before it enters my body."
Melisandre thought about it deeply. But while doing that, she helped Joffrey tie up his breeches while seated and then got out from under his table. But instead of moving away, she sat down sideways on Joffrey's masculine lap, feeling his cock twitch under her thin dress, right at the valley between her lower cheeks.
Joffrey didn't mind it. In fact, he had asked her to do this before. He just liked the sensation of her warm, supple, wide rear pressed against his cock. In all honesty, he wanted to taste her cunt, but anytime he looked at the necklace, he'd feel his cock turning flaccid.
"You desire prevention, not the cure?"
"No, I just want to know if there is poison in my drink without having to drink it," Joffrey clarified. "Can that be done?"
Joffrey, taking his usual liberty, began caressing Melisandre's magnificent, soft breasts over her dress. Fondling them to his amusement while he waited for her to answer. Did she construct this young body to be this beautiful?
"There is a way," Melisandre chirped abruptly, completely unbothered by her cherished Azor Ahai's perverted needs. "I shall craft for you a small bird, one to nestle in your pocket. Its delicate form shall become attuned to the touch of poisons, and with but a sip of your drink, the bird shall sacrifice itself to reveal any poison."
"Excellent," Joffrey exclaimed, and with one last squeeze on her milky mounds, he made her stand up. "I shall see you at the dinner feast then. I’ll need that bird before marriage."
Melisandre bowed her head a little, a rare smile retained on her lips. "The Lord of Light speaks in many ways, Your Grace. He has spoken to me—you tread the righteous path."
Joffrey felt a little relief hearing that. Knowing how fanatic Melisandre was, he knew she'd never lie about her god. "That's wonderful to hear."
She nodded and quickly left after that.
Joffrey, too, finally began working seriously, though he knew a new headache was awaiting him—his mother.
####
As evening approached, the throne room was transformed into an opulent dining hall. Long tables and chairs were added, and candles, decorations, and a candle chandelier were added to increase the grandeur.
The guests included the royal family, the Small Council, a few lords and ladies of the Crownlands, and even a few from the Stormlands who had just arrived. The king's table was set before the Iron Throne, but Joffrey has yet to arrive.
"This table is for the royal family and honored guests, not the king's playthings," Cersei sneered from her seat, located just beside the center seat of the King.
Sansa shrank her neck, in her arms the little Joanna. Despite Joffrey's support and her improved mental fortitude, she couldn't overcome her fear of the Queen Mother. Without even replying, she stepped back.
"She's a noblewoman too," Arya barked right then, furious at the disrespect.
"Noblewomen don't sire bastards," Cersei replied with a scoff.
Arya clenched her fist, holding herself back from punching the smug look off of Cersei. "She's the eldest of House Stark. Are you sur—"
The short but very energetic Arya swallowed back her words as she noticed Joffrey arrive from behind the Iron Throne through the King's entryway.
"Mother." Joffrey approached his seat, his expression blank. "I wish to have a moment with Joanna. Would you mind moving your seat?"
Cersei froze, seemingly losing all the color from her face. She stared at her son with a pained, and somewhat scared expression. "Y-Your Grace, but I'm y—"
"Just for today, Mother," Joffrey insisted.
Feeling ashamed, Cersei eventually stood up and walked to Joffrey's other side. Sadly, Tyrion was already seated there, so she had to take the seat even beyond Tyrion. Meanwhile, Sansa got to sit right beside Joffrey, while Arya sat beside her.
"Are you well, Sansa?" Joffrey asked her, gazing at her flushed face. She was very much in love with him, and it was so noticeable even a toddler could tell.
Sansa nodded softly, "Everything has been well, Your Grace. Ser Clegane protected me and Arya, and Lord Tyrion has shown us kindness beyond measure."
Clegane needs a reward for his work. Joffrey remembered the man he used to call the dog. Now, he just wanted his loyalty.
"Forgive me for being unable to reach you in time for the childbirth," Joffrey said, secretly placing his palm on her lap. Although the regal gown she wore was heavy and thick, he felt the softness of her thighs. It was more than what he remembered.
Sansa blushed crimson-like at his touch, and she quickly hid his hand by lowering Joanna in her arms, blocking the view of her lap. "No, Your Grace. I must thank you for helping Mother regain the North. I read the letter—I am indebted to you for what you have done. You took revenge and destroyed the Freys and the Boltons and even funded rebuilding Winterfell… The North will never forget your kindness."
Well, Catelyn did earn it through sweat and tears.
Joffrey smiled warmly, trying to maintain his perfect husband, lover, prince, or kingly persona in her eyes. Besides, she was the mother of his daughter now and deserved at least his neutral kindness.
He clenched her lap, reaching for the inner side of her thighs. It was impossible to do anything in her heavy dress, but he still relished every little flinch and blush she made. "She's beautiful."
Sansa nodded, looking at her daughter's sleeping face fondly. "Will you be… joining me tonight, Your Grace?"
Oh, I can't wait to taste you again. Joffrey thought to himself, keeping a serious face. But not until my next plan is in motion.
"I'm afraid I can't. Do you rest alone?" He asked.
With a hint of disappointment, Sansa shook her head and gestured to her sister. "Arya stays with me in my bedchamber. If that's a pro—"
"No, Sansa." Joffrey clenched his palm on her soft thigh flesh. "You can share it with her all you like. Actually, I insist. She's a fierce one, isn't she? She'll look out for you and our little Joanna."
Sansa smiled widely hearing that, her pearl-white teeth in view. She felt extremely content at that moment. Hearing Joffrey call their daughter 'our' gave her the reassurance that Joanna wouldn't grow up without a father.
"You're not the Joffrey I remember," Arya suddenly yapped from Sansa’s other side.
"Arya! Use proper speech," Sansa quickly scolded her sister.
Joffrey just chuckled, measuring her form. She had grown quite well into her ripe age, but her stature had remained short. He doubted she'd even reach his neck, but that didn't matter when she had a sword.
Her body was light and very flexible. He could see himself eventually bending her to his will. Going slow with her should be the best choice.
"You're not the Arya I know either," Joffrey replied. "You have grown into a lady quite well."
"I'm no lady," Arya barked.
Joffrey raised his brows, "What? If not a lady, then… perhaps are you a lady with a co—"
"No!" Arya exclaimed. "I didn't mean it that way."
"Pfft…" Sansa giggled between them, her heart at peace, already forgetting the mistreatment from Cersei.
Just like that, the dinner started, chatter and clanking of spoons echoing in the hall. A few musicians further elevated the evening with their warm tunes.
Joffrey talked with Tyrion about plenty of things related to the realm while ignoring Cersei's face, eyes full of fury. He instead focused on Sansa and further teased Arya. He knew what kind of person she was, so he took a less regal, noble attitude with her.
Eventually, the center tables were removed, leading to a dance. The lords, ladies, knights, and their women took to the floor. Even Joffrey stood up later, taking Sansa first, then Arya with a little forceful persuasion.
After that, he took Olenna, and finally ended it with Cersei. However, the whole time he kept an unsavory, serious, unhappy expression on his face. After all, he noticed Jaimie looking at them from the side.
Let the seed of doubt sow.
"Joffrey, will you visit me? I wish to speak with my son," Cersei spoke close to his ear, their bodies almost hugging. But Joffrey maintained distance, not letting her breasts push against his chest.
"Forgive me, Mother. I'm too tired and wish to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow?" Joffrey replied, not giving her a shred of a smile. "Oh, and I've got a little something for you too."
"Really?" Cersei lit up abruptly. "Then I will await you in my chamber tomorrow."
Joffrey simply nodded and danced a little more with them. Once he saw Sansa and Arya had already left, he decided to return to his room as well. But he never failed to make the most annoyed and disgusted look possible.
Aware of where Jaimie was, Joffrey knowingly walked past him as close as possible. "I hate this... disgusting filth."
Did you hear that? Joffrey, sadly, couldn't look and make sure. He just left through the king's entrance and left the Great Hall.
Walking through the empty hallways, he soon arrived at his bedchambers. He quickly entered and locked the door behind, finally taking a calming breath. Being scheming all the time was tough on his mind, he felt.
But he knew exactly what could help him soothe his body.
"Your Grace."
He found the bathtub filled with hot water and, standing beside it, none other than his personal bathing servant, Mhaegen. She still looked as innocent, naive, and ripe as the day Joffrey took her in that whorehouse.
"How is Barra?"
The light red-haired, freckled servant smiled as she approached Joffrey and helped him remove his clothes. "She has begun walking, Your Grace. She's healthy and growing well."
Joffrey breathed deeply hearing that, hoping the good deed would bring him some luck. Though, that didn't mean he'd stop walking the path he had taken. As soon as all his clothes were removed, he stepped into the bathtub.
Mhaegan was dressed in the regular servant's gown—thin, gray, loose, and somewhat revealing around her neck. She approached the bathing tub and sat beside it, beginning to rub and scrub Joffrey's body.
"Do you have someone to take care of Barra?" Joffrey inquired.
Mhaegan left no place on his body uncleaned, eventually reaching his crotch. She began to rub his cock, feeling its growing size. "I do, Your Grace."
"Then, you need not return tonight," Joffrey said, not asking, but an order.
Mhaegan showed not an ounce of aversion to his demand and simply asked back. "Would you like to have me in the tub, or the bed, Your Grace?"
Ah, a truly talented whore. Joffrey liked her question, even more so when her nimble fingers were already stroking his cock in the water.
Joffrey looked at the mother he definitely wanted to fuck. The way her hair was tied behind her head messily was a charm in itself. Her curious eyes were as if asking him to plunder her. "Disrobe and enter the tub."
Mhaegan stood up quickly. With a simple pull of her hands, her gown slid down off her shoulders. As it crumpled around her feet, she covered her breasts and her love hole with her hands in a show of her femininity.
Joffrey noticed she was clean, without a speck of hair down there. She came prepared to greet her king. A brilliant whore, indeed.
The metal bathing tub Joffrey sat in wasn't massive, but it was moderately large, for it once belonged to the whoremonger father of his. With its depth enough for the water to reach his shoulder, and width enough for him to straighten his legs completely white sitting, it was perfectly made for adventures such as this.
Mhaegen raised one leg to enter, giving Joffrey a good view of her spread petals despite her attempts to hide it. Eventually, she settled into the water opposite to Joffrey. She knew what she had to do, and used her petite feet to rub his manhood.
Joffrey kept staring at her, letting her please him while he soaked in the warm water to ease his fatigue. Even if her dainty little toes stroked him, she still averted her watery eyes, looking naive and delectable.
"Did someone mistreat you?" he asked, his head hanging back, eyes closed; His arousal being entertained.
Mhaegan had never thought the King would show concern for her. "No, Your Grace. Everyone knew who I belonged to."
"That's right," Joffrey smiled, loving her docile behavior. "You belong to me."
"Umm…" Mhaegan shifted in the water, getting on her knees. That finally revealed her creamy breasts, just a handful, but without a sag. The tight pale brown buds atop were small, as was the areola around it.
She came closer to him, between his legs, and began using her careful hand to stroke his magnificent cock. But she went beyond that, having been taught the ways to pleasure a man. She leaned forward further and kissed Joffrey's collarbone, and then his neck, all the while both her hands stroked his cock.
She had to stand up on her knees to reach his ear, making her slick slit brush against Joffrey's cockhead. But she continued to stroke him, fondling his girth with her hold.
This was one of the reasons why he liked Mhaegan and kept her. Sleeping with women like Sansa, Margaery, and Catelyn was one thing. But fucking a whore was where the true extent of sexual pleasure could be explored. He still fondly remembered Ros from a long time ago. The plump, curvy whore was delightful.
Perhaps I should summon her and see if she's been faithful to me, Joffrey thought, remembering how he had taken ownership of her cunt last time.
For now, he took pleasure in the lithe, shorter woman. His one hand went behind her hips and caressed her ass, while his other hand cupped her breasts, squeezing them. But he felt they were different from before.
"F-Forgive me… Your Grace." Mhaegan slobbered over his neck and apologized. "I'm…. I cannot nurse anymore."
Joffrey looked up at her fearful expression. He knew she was scared of losing the King's interest. "Pity, but it's natural."
Shouldn't Sansa be lactating? Joffrey licked his lips. I’d better pay her a visit later and have a taste.
"But you can’t leave my tongue unattended, can you?"
Mhaegan got the message and slammed her ripe lips against his. She didn't wait and took the initiative to probe into her king's mouth and let him savor her mouth. Coiling her tongue against his, letting him soak in the heat of her maw as well.
She rubbed her body against his chest, all the while continuing to stroke him vigorously.
But Joffrey broke the kiss abruptly and looked at her in amusement. "Mhaegan, how long can you hold your breath?"
Mhaegan pulled herself back in confusion. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"
Joffrey caressed her lovely face, eventually sliding his thumb between her lips to get the message across. "Your hands won't do, Mhaegen."
She looked down at the straining, iron-hard cock in the water. "I-In there?"
"Where else?"
"I-I'll do my best, Your Grace," She sounded unsure and somewhat frightened. But this wasn't the first strange request she had received.
Mhaegan placed her hands on Joffrey's thighs and lowered her face towards the water. She took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes before diving in. She opened her mouth wide and felt the probing of Joffrey's cock.
Using her tongue, she spat out all the water and used her lips as a tight seal around his girth. Quickly after, she shoved her face further down, all the while using her tongue to swirl around the cockhead.
Her head began moving not long after. Her strokes were short and not enough for Joffrey to feel satisfied.
"Deeper," Joffrey said and pressed her head with his hand. "Take more…"
Mhaegan understood his desire and adjusted herself. She shucked her cheeks tight, his cock thick enough to perfectly rest between her wide lips. Her stature wasn't enough to plow heavily into the water, so she let Joffrey move her head to his whim.
"Umm… Unnn…" Mhaegan began pushing up suddenly, clenching her palm on Joffrey's thighs.
I may be crazy, but I'm not a savage. Joffrey let her take her head out of the water.
"Haaa…" Mhaegan gasped for breath, her breast heaving, her tights breasts trembling. She rubbed her forehead, moving the wet hair off her face.
"Is that it?"
Mhaegan shook her head and took another deep breath before splashing her face back into the water. This time she went with confidence and experience, instantly taking his cock between her lips.
Since Joffrey helped her balance her light body, she moved one hand and gripped the king's shaft around the base, also striking it and clenching it tight.
Long, gulping plunges, her tongue hot as fire. Her spit coated him well, while her halted breath made her throat even tighter. She swished his cock in her mouth, massaging with her tongue as if it was the sweetest fruit, careful to not use her teeth.
Joffrey felt a twitch rise in his balls soon enough, the new experience having excited him plenty. He shoved her face further down on his cock until he felt her nose against his pelvis. The way it felt as if his cock was twisted inside by her tongue was magnificent.
"Akh~"
He let her rise again and take a breath before going down once more. Third was the charm as she frantically used her hand and face to stroke him. She practically fucked her own face on his length, doing everything she could to make him spill before she needed to take another breath.
Her tongue hungryly pressed around the crown of his cock, as well as the tiny slit up top. With her eyes closed, and her ears filled with water, her senses played with her. But she soon felt a twitch rising from his balls.
"There!" Joffrey declared and pressed her face down.
Mhaegan felt scared, almost on the verge of losing her breath. But she continued to stroke with fervor, her face, her hand, her lips, her tongue—all a means to please her King, her rightful owner.
"Ugh… there you go!" Joffrey finally speared over the edge and spilled all he had in her drowning throat. With both his hands he pressed Mhaegan's face down onto his shaft, reaching the back of her throat with ease.
Her hand clenched on his thigh while her face struggled to rise. But Joffrey didn't let her until his hips thrusted a few times, and put every last drop of batter in her. She frantically swallowed in big gulps, the suction force threatening to empty out his family jewels.
"Aaaah… Haaaa…!"
Finally, when Joffrey eased back and let her get up, she fell on top of his chest while gasping for breath. She gulped hard, swallowing all of the remnants of Joffrey's sticky release coating her tongue and throat.
"You did wonderful." Joffrey praised her and held her against his body, turning her to relax her back against his chest, while his cock nestled behind the gap of her rear. He fondled her breasts, waiting for her to calm down.
That was honestly exquisite. Joffrey found himself admiring this personal whore of his. Money well spent.
But his sexual appetite being inhuman, he knew a mere facefuck won't satiate him. So, he waited for his shaft to spring back to life. Meanwhile, he slid one hand from her mounds to her belly, and then between her spread legs, tickling her kernel of pleasure, the sensitive little nub hidden between her lower petals.
"Ah, Your Grace…" Mhaegan moaned.
"Spread your legs," Joffrey ordered.
No hesitation, no refusal. She spread herself for him to claim. Tired, she threw her head back to his shoulder and let him prepare her for the next course.
"Umm… Oh…"
"That's enough." When Joffrey saw she had started squirming, he stood up in the water, and gave Mhaegan a hand. But the moment she got up, Joffrey pulled her back and scooped her legs up with his other arm, lifting her up in a princess carry.
After all, good whores deserve to be treated well at times.
Thud!
Joffrey threw her wet body on the soft bed, and used a towel to wipe himself clean before joining her. His cock had already begun to rise again, so he went slow and savored every bit.
"Your Grace…" Mhaegan voiced weakley, her breath calm now. But on the bed, she had landed face first. However, instead of turning up, she folded her knees and spread her ass towards her king. "Which one would you like? This?"
She quickly turned around, her head on the pillow and her knees spread. She watched Joffrey from between her legs, wiping himself clean. "Or this?"
"Both, Mhaegen," he replied, finally placing his knees on the bed and approaching her.
That was enough for her core to feel aroused in heat. After all, in her mind, she was no longer a mere whore, but the powerful King's personal servant.
And with the King being great in bed, she didn't even feel ashamed of letting him devour her femininity whenever he desired.
If anything, it was a blessing in disguise.
"Ah!" She moaned as soon as she felt the King's royal cock press atop her folds. "Mmm…"
"But I'm afraid you'd have to do the work. I'm tired."
Mhaegan smiled softly and pulled Joffrey on her breast by his shoulder, bearing all his weight. But right after, she turned around with Joffrey aiding, and immediately got on top of him, his cock still resting deep inside to the hilt.
"Of course, Your Grace." She chirped. "That's what whores do."
Seven Hells. Joffrey blinked dumbfoundedly, wondering how she changed so much in a year. She's too good.
####
Clank!
"Faster!"
"Haa!" Joffrey roared and ducked to save his neck. "You're too good, Uncle."
"I know," Jaimie proudly replied and swung his blade masterfully. Fast, but without much strength behind it. The edges of the blades were flattened, so they sparred carefree. "But not for long, I fear."
Joffrey chuckled and blocked Jaimie's strike with his warhammer. Yes, he had been training in using that since Robert used it before. To make sure the realm didn't doubt his blood, he had to make himself appear as close to Robert's personality as possible.
The unforeseen benefit was that since using the Warhammer required greater strength and a stronger body, Joffrey gained much more muscle all over. All the while secretly having the genes of one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros.
Sweating and panting, the two men sparred for hours at the crack of dawn. Their private training hall undisturbed by anyone, they laughed, shared stories, and shared thoughts. Jaimie was particularly excited to learn about how he destroyed two ancient houses.
"You came out stronger, and that's all that matters," Jaimie complimented, ending the spar. He got Joffrey a glass of water too, sitting beside him on the dirt training ground. "But there is something that's been troubling me, Your Grace."
Here it comes. Joffrey felt a sense of relief hearing that.
"Please, Uncle. It's just us here. Call me Joffrey, or nephew." Joffrey played the word game he had mastered over time. "And speak freely."
Jaimie measured his words with utmost care, maintaining his gaze on Joffrey's face to sense any change in his expressions. "At last night's feast, I… sensed some trouble between you and my sister. I was wondering… what it might be."
"That…" Joffrey flinched slightly, looking away from Jaimie for a moment before gathering himself up. All a ruse, of course. "It's nothing, Uncle… It's nothing."
Jaimie had to be blind to not notice the tension. He smiled softly and tried to give Joffrey confidence. "Joffrey, you're my family. So is my sister. Divisions among kin only embolden our enemies. If there is something weighing your mind, you can share your troubles with me, and I will aid you."
That you will. Joffrey looked down, now showing a look of shame.
"Mother…" he gulped, breaking his words mid-sentence. "I… adore Mother, but…"
Jaimie shifted closer to Joffrey and patted his shoulder. "Nobody’s listening to us, Joffrey. Speak openly."
"Mother… touched me," Joffrey muttered.
Jaimie's brows knit together, his smile fading away. "What do you mean? She's your mother. It's only natural for her to show affection."
"She… made me do… things." Joffrey clenched his fists, eyes narrow in frustration. "I-In the… I think she was just drunk…"
Jaimie's hand on Joffrey's shoulder tightened. "What 'things', Joffrey?"
"No!" Joffrey exclaimed abruptly and jumped to his feet. "It's better left unspoken. Forget what I said, Uncle. I’ll see you later."
With that, Joffrey rushed out of the training grounds, leaving Jaimie confused and at the same time, frightened. From Joffrey's words, Jaimie could only reach the worst of the worst conclusions. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew Cersei too well. At times, she goes overboard, and he hoped this wasn't one of those incidents.
"He looks… tormented," Jaimie muttered to himself alone, rubbing his face and combing his hair tiredly. "What did you do, Cersei?"
####
That morning, Joffrey had controlled his urges and stopped himself from spreading Mhaegen beneath him once again. Instead, he went to train with Jaimie early in the morning.
After that, he dressed up and went to his solar to do some work. He waited until it was afternoon to head out again, up the stairs and towards Cersei's bedchambers. Behind him, Sandor and Jaimie followed as his Kingsguard.
At last, when they arrived at the door, Joffrey stood there for a moment before letting out an audible sigh. "Wait here."
Knock! Knock!
"Mother?" Joffrey knocked and entered on his own. The first thing he sensed was a heavy scent of something aromatic and spicy, a flowery scent that didn't feel like a flower either. "Mother? Are you there?"
"Here, my King."
Joffrey heard her call from inside and closed the door behind. However, he purposefully left it slightly open so a faint crack gave away the scene inside.
Summoning back the persona of the old Joffrey, he walked deeper into the grand bedchamber of the Queen Mother. It was massive enough to have different sections for bathing, drinking, sleeping, reading, or just sitting.
Joffrey saw her seated at the edge of her bed. But he refused to walk up to her as the bed wasn't visible through the crack in the door. He just stood there, staring at Cersei, her golden blonde locks untied, silky, and draping towards her back.
On her body was a thin, royal red gown of silk, tight around all the curves, the neck particularly revealing, exposing the view of her pale cleavage. She had jewelry as well, a thin gold necklace around her neck, and two large earrings.
In her one hand was a glass of fine wine, while the other appeared somewhat stained with something wet.
What was she doing?
"My sweet lion!" Cersei's voice rang out, a mixture of command and desperation as she rose from her seat, her bare feet padding softly against the lush rug beneath her. "What have I done to turn your heart to ice? How have I offended you, my Joffrey?"
"W-What are you saying, Mother?" He asked back.
Cersei finally reached him and threw away the wine glass before grabbing him by the side of his both arms. She had to look up, however, as he had grown plenty in the last year. No doubt, she also felt the muscles of his arms at that touch.
"You didn't come to see your mother after returning, and then you made me sit away…" Cersei's voice quivered, and tears welled in her eyes as she pressed her face against his chest. "Do you not love your mother anymore?"
She's good. I can't tell if those tears are real or fake.
Joffrey let out a deep sigh. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, all while subtly positioning himself to be in a clear view of the door.
"Forgive me, Mother," he started, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "I was just making sure our grip on the North stays strong. With the only two young Starks left under our control, we're in a position of power."
"Then why be cruel to me? You don't love me anymore?" She asked again, still in his embrace.
"No, Mother, it's a misunderstanding." Joffrey squeezed her body tighter, "You are the most important woman in my life. I… I do love you, Mother."
Cersei's entire body flinched all of a sudden, and she removed herself from his embrace. With trembling hands, she cupped his face tenderly, her touch a mixture of desperation and affection. Those emerald eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, gazed up at him, pleading for reassurance. "S-Say that again… please."
There she goes. Joffrey saw through everything. She just failed to realize her manipulation wouldn't work on a master of manipulations himself.
"I love you, Mother."
Finally, a real drop of tear slid down Cersei's eyes. "Once more. Please."
Joffrey felt uncomfortable with the way she held his face in place. "I love you, Mother."
"And I love you more," Cersei chirped back and abruptly rose on her toes and planted her lips against Joffrey's. Only one hand caressed the side of his face now as the other wrapped around his neck to pull him into her lips.
It's Sansa… It's Sansa…
Joffrey closed his eyes, keeping his brows creased in the view of the doorframe. He imagined someone, not his mother against his lips, to make the experience tolerable.
But then Cersei went a step too far and refused to stop at a mere brush of lips. She attempted to probe her tongue between his lips, her eyes closed as if it were a romantic moment.
It's Sansa… It's Sansa. Joffrey let her do as she pleased, even reaching between his lips. This is for the future. This is for the future!
Just to make sure, he opened his eyes slightly, while maintaining a constant frown. He glanced towards the door, and sure enough, he noticed a shadow behind the minuscule crack.
Good! It started to seem tolerable with that. Seethe, Uncle. Seethe in rage for me.
_______________
[Star of The Weasley Family Chapter 14 coming up next.]
Comments
Lord Mehmeh
Fuck yeah 👍 I hate that bitch , and the dumb uncle
