GOT: The Golden Lion

Joffrey waited to get word from Varys when the Small Council was going to gather. He hoped to barge in and take part in the meeting that was being held without him or his permission. It was akin to treason, but he knew he didn't have the political or personal might to charge them with that crime.

So, on that fine sunny morning, he chose to go on a little walk beside the eastern edge of the Red Keep, where a few gardens and pavilions existed that overlooked the distant waters of Blackwater Bay, echoing with the sound of waves and the chirpings of birds.

Joffrey, in his usual kingly robes and light leather armor, walked near the shore with Sansa's hand wrapped around his arm intimately. Her red hair was let loose, only held back with two locks of hair tied behind. She looked utterly breathtaking under the sunlight. Her tall stature and lithe body were a charm, and that long-sleeved, deep purple royal gown draped her curves, fluttering beside her feet as she paced him.

A sweet smile adorned her lips, her complexion looked different, and her eyes held a new vigor of life. This Joffrey was all that she ever dreamt of—sweet, kind, strong, and… loving in all ways.

"Your Gra—"

"It's Joffrey, my northern flower," Joffrey interrupted her before she could speak and pulled her closer to his body. "I have sent all the guards away. So just call me Joffrey."

So happy, Sansa continued, "Joffrey, I received a raven from Robb in reply. I told him about you, that you are so much different, so amazing and loving. That you want peace and wish to solve the war with negotiations."

"Let me guess. He didn't believe you."

Sansa lowered her face in disappointment, "He said that… If His Grace had truly changed, then he'd have merrily sent me back to him."

"Do you?" Joffrey looked at her. "Do you wish to return to the North?"

Sansa nervously rubbed her hands. "I… Joffrey. I don't want to leave you, never in my life. But I want to see them once… I miss them."

Joffrey smiled and stopped once they reached a pavilion surrounded by dense shrubs, which had a tiled roof, chairs, and a table beside the edge, overlooking the uninterrupted sea.

He caressed her face, feeling the warmth of her silken skin. "My Sansa… I know what you feel, and I don't oppose you visiting the North again. But… that fool Robb!"

Joffrey raised his voice near the end, making Sansa shrink her neck in fright out of reflex. He did it knowingly to give her a taste, a reminder of what he was capable of doing.

"He killed Lord Karstark. For what? For murdering some lowly Lannister boys. Robb Stark has divided the North and instigated half of it against himself while he's fighting the Lannisters. Sansa, do you know what that means? Starks are now at their weakest, and if a house such as the Boltons were to rebel against them—"

Pure horror dawned on Sansa's face as she realized. She remembered Maester Luwin's teachings about the Boltons and their cruelties. How they were the second most powerful house in the North.

"My Sansa, I don't wish to lose you." Joffrey noticed the tears in her eyes and moved closer to her with one hand around her thin waist and the other still caressing her cheeks. "You are my first love, and I will keep you safe."

Go on, fall into these arms, and cry. You are mine to play, mine to plunder—my key to the North.

Joffrey inched further closer and pulled her in completely by the hardness of her corset inside her gown. He graced Sansa's thin, red lips with his own, kissing her in a calming tone.

"Don't cry, Sansa." Joffrey broke the kiss for a moment and then kissed her again, pushing her body until her rear rested by the table's edge. He still pushed onto her body until her hips sat on top of the table.

The reassuring, short kiss slowly turned into a deep one. Both his hands firmly held onto the side of her waist while they lost themselves in each other's soaking warmth and their eyes closed.

All prepared for the next stage—the willful submission. Joffrey broke the kiss again but didn't move away from her body.

"More than Robb, you should worry for Arya. She's young and alone," Joffrey said in a voice full of worry. "She's out there somewhere, trying to reach home. But it's too dangerous. What if the Lannisters or the opposing Northern faction get their hands on her? The unspeakable things they would do to her—it pains and scares me even to think. I've sent the Hound to find her, but you should try sending some ravens too. My uncle, Tyrion, will help you ensure they reach her."

Sansa's heart began to thump at the sight of Joffrey's concern for her and her family. It warmed her heart from the depths, and she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love for this man.

"I will, Joffrey. But what of my brother? He'll lose everything, even his life. Please help him, I beg you."

Yet I don't see you on your knees. Joffrey thought, but he knew better than to force her down there. Slow and steady, yes.

"My Sansa, I am King in nothing but name. I have no armies, nor loyalists. I'm sure you don't want me to beg with the Tyrells. While my Grandfather would rather kill me than help me save Robb," Joffrey said and made her lower her face on his shoulder while still sitting on the table.

There, he spoke into her ears. "But I'm trying to gain some strength. Once I have that, I might be able to do something… But even then, I will need a reason to go North and save him."

Sansa beckoned and looked at him, her face flushed after crying. "What reason, Your Gr—Joffrey?"

All my work was for this. You better not disappoint me, Sansa Stark.

He once again took her face in his palms, both of them this time. "Sansa… It is a fact that Cersei killed the noble, honorable Eddard Stark. But the realm still believes I did it, your mother believes I did it, your brothers believe I did it."

He let his words simmer in her head and simply stared into her deep blue eyes with hidden pleasure. He noticed the trust, the belief she had in him.

"Not me, but the realm needs a reason for the Starks to trust me again. Not the Baratheons, not the Crown, nor the Lannisters—only me. So that when I march with my armies to the North, Robb welcomes me with open arms; So we both can crush my Grandfather and Boltons together," Joffrey added, painting the most beautiful picture. "Only you can bring me and the Starks together, my northern flower."

Anticipation grew in Sansa's heart. Her heart felt like it'd burst at any moment. She felt hot under his tight hold around her waist, his lips so close to hers. "W-What is it, Joffrey? I'll do anything to help you."

And with this, I have conquered the North.

"By giving me the pleasure of a man, my Sansa. By carrying my child and giving birth," Joffrey revealed. "By the union of our blood, there shall be a union of our great houses. Once, my Father, Robert Baratheon, was promised a northern wife—today, his son wishes to see that promise fulfilled."

Joy, love, excitement, and a little hint of fear. Sansa felt a plethora of emotions. She knew she wasn't that old enough to be carrying a child in her belly. But for her family, for her love, Joffrey, she wanted to.

"W-With pleasure… Your Grace," she accepted his request, order, or proposal. She cared not what it was. "I'll give you a healthy child."

There was also some peace of mind in her heart as she realized Joffrey wasn't going to forget her or leave her if she were to be with his child. Especially after the nights they had spent together, and the times he had spilled inside.

Joffrey smiled warmly, showing a kingly smile that moved Sansa's heart. Somewhere deep down, even he felt a little connected to this girl now. No matter what, she was going to give birth to his child soon.

"Tell me, have you been drinking Moontea all these days?"

"I… I have, Joffrey. Grand Maester Pycells sends it or brings it himself on many occasions."

That fat whoring bastard. It seems King's Landing will require a new Grand Maester soon.

"Don't drink it from now on," he lovingly told her and leaned forward to kiss her again.

This time, Sansa reciprocated with all her heart and welcomed his probing, drenched flesh. Her arms went up on their own and circled around his neck, pulling him lower into her lips, deeper and more passionate.

"Nngh…" She moaned into him as Joffrey traced the side of her body with one hand, caressing his hand lower slowly to the side of her waist, then hips, and finally her legs. It was all covered with her loose, fluttering gown, only tight around her midriff, but that didn't lessen the excitement for Joffrey.

He broke off the kiss again and dug the fingers of his other hand into her hair behind her head. "Sansa… Shall I claim my northern wife right here?"

She blushed uncontrollably and looked left and right, unsure. "What if someone sees us, Your Grace?"

Joffrey scoffed and raised her chin with one hand. "My Sansa… If someone dares to interrupt us, I will have their three generations removed."

Cruel, but so hot. Sansa smiled and shyly nodded her head. "I'll be in your care, Joffrey."

Her mind is seriously broken. Using Your Grace and my name alternatively.

"I'm honored to have you, my northern wife." Joffrey smiled and looked down. He knew there was insufficient time, nor was this a place to go full course. So, he chose not to remove her gown and only raise it from below to access the part that mattered.

"Ah!" Sansa yelped when Joffrey stepped back and began raising her gown.

She used her arms to support herself from behind, not wanting to fall on the table, as she wished to see Joffrey claim her this time. For this one matters the most to her heart. It wasn't a place a noblewoman would feel comfortable being claimed, but Sansa found it rather romantic and exciting.

The Prince I always desired. She told herself while staring at Joffrey, meticulously rolling up her gown and underclothes. More than that, a King I have acquired.

"I love you, Joffrey," she muttered without even realizing it, only to gasp a moment later.

What? Joffrey looked up while in the middle of the strenuous task of pushing her damn clothes up. He was on the verge of giving up, cursing seven generations of the one who designed such garments for women. So many layers, it was annoying.

What's gotten into her now? I… I did too well?

But, of course, he had to reciprocate. "And I feel the same, my Sansa."

That was it. Sansa felt her cheeks heat up, and her face went red. More than him seeing her heated petals, this was what embarrassed her more.

"At last!" Joffrey exclaimed when he finally finished pushing all her layers of clothes up around her waist. Then, he tugged his fingers around her white smallclothes, and untied them as well. He didn't fail to notice the hint of wetness between the core of her legs.

Too easy to manipulate. But I can't complain. This is what I need.

"Don't wear smallclothes from now on, Sansa. I may be occupied with work, but I'll always try to find some intimate moments with you. I won't leave you alone—you're stuck with me for the rest of your life now, my lovely northern wife," he said with a jovial smile, indirectly implying she was his pleasure woman from now on. She was not his wife either, but he wanted her to believe she was.

"As you wish, Your Grace. I shall present…" Sansa giggled, madly in love, and spread her legs wide while moving back on the table a little so she could also place her heels up. "I shall present myself to my husband whenever he requires."

Good Maiden! Joffrey prayed to the gods. Only if that Tyrell whore were this wonderful, I'd have won half of the game by now.

He appreciated Sansa's playful acts despite there being hints of fear in her eyes. She still wondered if this was a dream, wondering if Joffrey would snap out of it at any moment and turn into a monster again.

"You are…" Joffrey looked at her glistening petals, pink and pale, clean as the skin of her face. The tightness was even visible, and the little nub of her sex was waiting for his pillage. "Beautiful."

"Ah!" She moaned as Joffrey spread his fingers up above her slit and rubbed her clitoris with his thumb. With his other hand, he untied his breeches and let them fall to his knees.

He truly found her pure and beautiful down there, and almost went on his knees to prepare her with his tongue. But he was the King, and in case someone was watching, he didn't wish to be mocked or seen as a lowly slave to carnal pleasures.

Soon, Joffrey's other hand found its grip on his shaft, and he began to stroke himself, preparing to move in. "Normally, I'd love to feel you help me, Sansa. But today, I'm afraid we'll have to be quick. So forgive me if I hurt you."

Sansa shook her head, gazing at his straining manhood with love. Her deep blue eyes almost seemed hungry for him as she stayed leaning back, supported by her arms, her long legs voluntarily parted open, her creamy, satin-smooth thighs in shameless display.

"I don't mind, Joffrey," she replied and watched him move in and position his purple, throbbing head on her entrance. "As—ah—long as it's from you-oh… making love to meeeeh~"

"Nnnngh!" Joffrey grunted as he leaned into her, his bulging shaft probing in slowly, parting her tightness with slippery delight, a grace of her own arousal.

He had done it a few times already over the past few days, and yet he found himself loving the feeling of her.

The northern flower was tall, proud, and pierced by his cock. He couldn't help but feel heightened arousal from just knowing that these wet, blooming petals were going to win him an entire kingdom. And the best thing about it was that…

"Oh, you're… fantastic, Sansa." It was a great cunt.

One long, slow, and loving probe. Joffrey didn't stop until his entire heated member rested in her depth, feeling every ounce of heat oozing from her needy walls. Seeing her warmth rising from the depth, the squeezing, pulsating tremors from her.

He didn't move for a while and leaned into her face, kissing her lips that hid her gritting teeth. It was a short but still lustfully wet kiss.

"You can moan, my Sansa," he told her, finally pulling his rigid source of heat back a little, letting her feel the calm before the storm and the sensation of relief. "Louder!"

"Aaaaah! Your Grace!" Sansa cried when Joffrey roughly thrust his entire hard length inside, his engorged knob hitting the deepest parts, making her sore. "You'r-ah b-big… Ah, ah… oh mmmm~"

Joffrey began his relentless shafting. He dug his palm into her spread thighs, sinking his fingers into honey-soft flesh and spreading her plundering slit open. Her bunched-up layers of clothes made her naked flesh appear like the hidden secret inside layers of flower petals—all for him to love, use, and abuse.

"Sah…Sansa." Joffrey panted as he tried to speak. "I will… sully your womanhood… with my–ugh seeds."

Sansa heard his words and only felt herself tittering on the edge of pleasure even more. "Ungh… yesss~ Your Grace… give me… make me… yours~ Ah, ah… oh, oh, oh…"

Her head fell back with uncontrollable moans leaving her lips. She never had another man in between her legs before, but even then, she knew Joffrey was big and exciting. It sent her into a frenzy of moaning shudders whenever his veiny bulge caressed past her stretched entrance, in and out, at speed faster than she could focus.

"Will you… drink Moontea?" Joffrey asked, finding his release very close as well. He knew he could last longer with better pacing, but he kept himself in control of the time and place. "Will you?"

"Neh–ver… oh, ummmmm…" She pressed her lips together and continued to moan, rocking fiercely with his clapping thrusts.

"Good…" Joffrey buried himself deep inside her, matching her frenzied writhing. Supported by shallow breaths, he gave a few small thrusts, clapping his pelvis against the flesh around her entrance. He wanted it. He needed his seeds to sink into the depths of her core, so he let the last few shudders of his shaft escape inside.

His thumb below kept rubbing and teasing her clitoris, making Sansa's plump hips do all the moving. In her limited mobility, she grounded her sheath on him, inching back and forth on him and milking him.

"Ah, Joff…" She breathed out and convulsed around him, gasping and exploding with a wave of blissful agony. Her nectar burst out against him, bathing his deep, resting cock within her most cherished part.

Joffrey kept on with his quick but deep plunges and, in a rhythmic response to her cry, allowed the pulsing life to flood her. Painting her recently virgin tightness with his royal seeds, claiming her maidenhood, and now hoping to claim her motherhood.

"Ugh… Sansa." Joffrey pulled out with a massive load of white, drooling out of her spread core. "Thank you."

Sansa could feel the heat inside her deepest walls. The slimy texture, the fullness, and the tickles. A warm sensation arose in her heart as she glanced at his cock, glistening with the residue of their sex, a mix of white and wet.

Tears overcame her eyes all of a sudden, prompting her to pull her legs away from his grasp and jump forward to stand up in the hope of embracing him. She closed her eyes, not knowing if he was going to scold her.

But to her shock, before her arms, his sturdy, lean muscles found their way around her body. The warmth of his chest against hers, the exchange of their beating hearts. She felt it all and, despite her best attempts, still cried.

"Thank you, Sansa." Joffrey had no clue why she was crying. But he didn't want her to drink the Moontea, so he patted her back and caressed her head.

"Ummmm…" She tried to suppress her tears and touched her belly with one hand. "T-Thank you… Your Grace. For this… Blessing."

Blessing? I just shagged her.

"I will…" She sniveled. "I will… give you a healthy baby… I promise. Please don't leave me."

Ah, fear. He realized what it was. This was the sign, her way of saying that she had now given herself up to him completely. From mind and body to her life. Now she feared being alone, being abused, being thrown away.

"Sansa… My Sansa, the most beautiful woman in the world." He knew it was a lie, but who cared? She was still one of the most beautiful in Westeros. "If I could, I would have spent another day, another night, and then a few more continuously making love to you. Do you know why? Because you are my woman—my lover—my northern wife. I will cherish you and our child forever and protect you against all harm. You have my word."

She wailed even more with that assurance and hugged him tighter. "I love you… I love you, Your Grace."

Fuck, my cock feels cold now. It's still dangling. Joffrey frowned.

"Sansa, do you know what Cersei has planned for today's secret Small Council meeting?" he asked her, changing the topic and forcing her to straighten up. "She wants to harm you, push you away from me. But I won't let her, and I want you to see me do it yourself. There's a secret room beside the Small Council Chamber. Tyrion's squire will guide you there so you can listen, and see your husband protect you."

Sansa finally gathered herself and looked up at Joffrey's face. "I will follow you, Your G—"

Joffrey suddenly kissed her lips while tying his breeches. "Joffrey… We're alone, my Sansa."

She just smiled, captured his arm intimately, and began walking beside him, albeit swaying a little. It was a short and quick pounding, but still a heavy pounding indeed.

…

Small Council,

"We must make a decision about the little wolf living in the Red Keep, Father," Cersei Lannister, sitting proudly in the Small Council, barked like an injured dog. "Or I fear we will lose Joffrey to the control of that vixen."

Thud!

"That is King Joffrey for you, Cersei Lannister," Joffrey stormed into the Small Council with long strides, eyes narrowly glaring at every member, his brows creased together. "I wasn't invited to this little gathering. What's the occasion?"

He wasn't invited knowingly. It was clearly visible on their faces as they all averted their gaze while standing up to greet him.

"Your Grace."

"We thought of not disturbing your rest, Your Grace," said Little Finger.

Joffrey sneered and stared at Tywin Lannister, who sat in the King's chair. "I think I'll attend this little gathering. I'm bored otherwise."

Tywin noticed his gaze and got the message. Knowing how unstable and even more unpredictable Joffrey had become, the old lion stood up and presented the seat. "Please have a seat, Your Grace."

He did and looked back at Cersei, who was right beside him in the other corner. "You were talking about a little wolf?"

Cersei smiled towards Joffrey and tried to lean forward on the chair. She took his hand in hers and began caressing it. She looked quite regal and beautiful; the perfume from her body was quite an expensive scent, and her silky golden blonde hair was graceful.

But behind all that was an ugly, rotten mind. Joffrey couldn't help but notice that ugliness. "Go on, Mother. What is it?"

"Dear, we have…" Cersei feared her own son too. He was unpredictable. "As your marriage with Lady Margaery has been finalized, we hoped to deal with the past unfulfilled matters. We can't send Sansa back home, nor can she marry you—"

Joffrey wasn't amused. "Get to the point, Mother."

"We have decided to wed Lady Margaery to your uncle, Tyrion." Cersei dropped the revelation.

"What?!" Tyrion reacted before anybody else. "Why was I not involved in this decision?"

Tywin glared at the son, whom he considered a curse. "What is there to ask? She is a highborn woman, and you are to bed her and produce an offspring."

Deep down, in Joffrey's heart, fury arose. He changed his hand and instead captured Cersei's palm in his, and squeezed her hard until she couldn't take her mind off of him. She felt scared and knew Joffrey was the most unstable when angered.

"My love, you will have Margaery to—"

"Grandfather." Joffrey ignored Cersei. "I heard Uncle Jamie has been located. I believe he does not need to return to King's Landing. I shall remove him from Kingsguard, and he can return to Casterly Rock to learn from you and rise from a mere knight to a proud Warden of the West."

"Ehm…" Lord Varys coughed to break the silence after what Joffrey had just said. Even the old lion was shocked. However, the horror was clear on Cersei's face.

The words were never spoken, but they couldn't be more clear. You take away my things, and I will take away yours.

"I… I will respect your decision, Your G—"

"No!" Cersei interrupted Tywin. "We should ask Jamie what he wants to do first."

Joffrey kept staring at Cersei the entire time, with a plain face but with so much in his eyes. The Queen Mother couldn't find herself to even meet his gaze, feeling so small and anxious as his grip on her hand started to hurt.

I feel ashamed to be your son, you whore. Joffrey growled inside the deepest insults at her.

Joffrey saw that nobody was speaking, so he did. "For a while, many have been led to believe I am a fool who sees nothing, knows nothing, and feels nothing. Time and time, people forget that I also have the blood of the great Tywin Lannister in my veins. Time and time, people forget that I have the blood of the mighty Robert Baratheon running through my body—Mine is Fury, and in fury, you will hear me roar!"

This was his roar. Everyone understood the greater meaning behind Joffrey's words, which felt too profound coming from someone like him.

"I saved this city with my Uncle while one of you was cowering with poison, and the other plotting his slow arrival to the city to be its great savior…"

Pride appeared on Tywin Lannister's face as he realized Joffrey saw through everything.

This is it. This is what he wanted from his children and grandchildren. Jamie was a fool but a great knight. Cersei had a sharp mind but was too full of herself to the point her sharp mind was no better than a dunce's. While Tyrion was the shame of the family.

For years, he wondered what would happen to House Lannister. Now, there was a glimmer of hope.

"The King's words are the most valued, Your Grace," Tywin spoke quickly. "If you wish to keep the toy, you may, Your Grace."

Toy? Sansa is a fucking toy? She's the fucking key to the North. A great sword against the Others. Joffrey felt angered at Sansa being called that, and even he didn't know why. What am I to these snakes then? An insect?

"Then, we shall announce the date of your marriage with Marg—" Tywin tried to continue.

"No such thing will be done," Joffrey stood up abruptly. "Not until the entire realm has peace, the rebellions are over."

"It's not child's play. It will take time, Your Grace." Petyr Baelish tried to meddle, being the one who brokered the marriage between Tyrell and him.

Your time is coming soon, Little Finger. Just count your whores! Joffrey glared at the slimy man and looked back at Tywin.

"That sounds like your problem, not mine. The Crown is deep in debt, the city is in decay, the winter is coming, and we're fighting like savages for what? We don't even know at this point. Renly is dead, and so is Stannis."

With that, Joffrey began walking away. "The Small Council is dismissed. I shall be in my chambers."

Bam!

As soon as Joffrey came out of the room, he breathed out and punched the stone wall beside him. His teeth remained gritted, and his fist clenched together firmly. He hated being in there and feeling so powerless, almost scared even.

He was the King, and yet he was the weakest.

Tywin, you scheming bastard. Just wait until I tell Tyrion what you did to Tysha. Just wait until the world knows of your gold running out. With the knowledge of the future within his mind, Joffrey knew he had to bid his time. He had to play the game like a tug of war.

Still, the whole ordeal related to Sansa annoyed him. How Cersei tried to control his life angered him to no end. And with that foul taste in his thoughts, he headed to his bedchambers for rest.

That Bran boy must be watching me too. Joffrey remembered the ordeal about the Three-Eyed Raven from his memories. But Robb Stark and Rickon Stark have to die for Sansa to be the unopposed Warden of the North. I will have to be careful from now on.

"Your Grace?"

"Hmm?" He didn't even realize it when he reached his bedchambers. To his surprise, a wildflower stood in front of his door. Dressed in a creamy, ivory-colored sleeveless dress that she usually wore, with a deep cut neck that gave away too much of her skin to his eyes, all tied with a single belt around her waist.

Then there's this nuisance. That fucking smile of hers. Joffrey felt like she mocked him every time she pressed her lips like that. It felt so fake and yet so seducing. She won't let me fuck her. She won't let me throw her away. That Oleena, how long is she going to live?

"Lady Margaery." Joffrey didn't greet her with a smile and shoved her aside. He was in no mood to play with her. "I wish to rest my throbbing headache."

"Oh!" Margaery jumped into the room behind him and closed the door. "Then let me rub and knead your forehead, Your Grace. It will soothe your mind."

Joffrey looked at her from head to toe. Her long, cascading, loose, brown hair behind her back was calling him, as if it was asking him to grab and throw her to the bed, make her plead for mercy under his cock. Those brown eyes, the revealing dress, and that 'fuck me' face of hers with pouting lips, easily made his groin feel something.

Ugh, I can't be forceful with her. That old harpy will poison me one way or another.

Tiredly, Joffrey began to take off his royal robes and then his vest, followed by his tunic. He got completely naked from his torso and sat down on a reclining chair beside the open balcony to feel the soothing breeze.

He was proud of his body now. No longer that scrawny and weak, there was some progress after training with the Hound and even Bronn. He despised the latter as a person but appreciated his style.

Margaery felt the same. This was not the man she remembered from their first meeting. The air about him was different. He felt… like a King. With great burden, great purpose, and great needs.

"Let me help you, Your Grace." Margaery gulped, gathered some courage, and walked behind him. With her dainty little fingers, she began to press and rub his forehead, arousing him even further, apparent by the rising mound of his breeches.

If Sansa is with my child too early, the Tyrells will abort the wedding. Joffrey realized something as Margaery massaged him, her hands taking the liberty to move around his neck and shoulders, reaching his chest. But if both of them are with my child… that would change a few things. After that, I only need to stall the marriage until that Targaryen comes with her dragons and diverts attention.

Honestly, Joffrey didn't feel confident about claiming Daenerys Targaryen in any way. Not romantically, nor martially. In the end, he felt there was no other option but to surrender before her dragons, even if his new war tools could kill them, as they were needed to deal with the Others.

"Your Grace."

Joffrey opened his eyes at her call, realizing he had almost dozed off. He looked up, lifting his head. But instead of feeling her hands on him or her body behind, he saw something right before himself. Something that made him stand up, mouth slightly agape, and his loins reacting madly.

"What are y—" Joffrey didn't want to ask her that because he liked what he was seeing.

Slightly shorter than Sansa but a little more endowed. All naked, with not a speck of cloth on her body, her hourglass figure was showcased there for his pleasure, standing upright, with her arms folded on her belly, squeezing her jutting pert melons together. The supple hips were savory, and that secret clean slit hidden between the shadow of her squeezing thighs was inviting.

"Your Grace, may I help your body relax?"

Ah, that old queen of thorns must have scolded her to give herself up to me so the wedding could happen quickly. Joffrey got closer to her and walked around her to inspect the magnificent view.

I don't know about a wedding, but this bedding I'm going to enjoy.

At last, he stopped in front of her and caressed one hand on her body, his index finger brushing over the side of her hips, moving up, then to the front, and with tickles, reaching the little, tight bud of her perky breast.

Still smiling? He hated it and, at the same time, felt aroused by it. Let's see how long that lasts before cries replace it.

With the other hand, Joffrey caressed downward from her waist, then to the front, and curved four of his fingers into the gap between her thighs, teasing her soft entrance with two fingers. "Are you sure? Because the last time you tried, I was left more frustrated."

Margaery breathed out feverishly and stepped closer to Joffrey until her naked mounds stuck to Joffrey's equally bare chest. She raised her arms and placed them on his shoulder before speaking, "I was naive, unaware of my role as the Queen, Your Grace. Unaware of my duties to my husband. Will you let me show you what I learned?"

He felt it. His cock was harder than Valyrian steel at that moment. I've been waiting for this moment.

"Go on then. Start showing me what you learned." Joffrey caressed her face. The warmth of her skin was arousing. "But I will be the one ending it."

"Of course, Your Grace." She obediently and submissively knelt down on her knees, then untied Joffrey's breeches and small clothes. She lowered them and made him step out before standing up again, matching each other's nudity. Caressing her soft little fingers on his chest, she pushed him towards the bed.

Joffrey reacted to her touch and slid backward on his bed all the way until his back rested on the big cushions at the headboard. He relaxed, watched Margaery crawl towards him like a cat, and sit between his widened legs.

Her delicate fingers soon caressed their way from his thighs to his shaft, gripping him tight in a fist. He was hard and throbbing to her touch already, and when she lowered her face down under his shaft, he saw the difference in size. His cock was longer than her face, standing erect as she slid out her tongue and gave a long, upward slurp until the tip.

"Ugh." Joffrey loved it. This was one good thing about Margaery. She was a fucking whore who knew what needed to be done.

Margaery made sure her tongue never left his manhood. She made intense sounds with her saliva coating him thoroughly while one hand stroked him and the other caressed his balls.

"Umm… Your Grace." She tried to speak in the middle of her gentle sucking and licking. "W-Will you… Make… Love to me?"

"No." Joffrey folded his arms behind his head and triumphantly watched the beauty, famous across Westeros, pleasure him so sultrily. He couldn't help but love being the King. "I will not make love to you… I will pin you down under my cock, shove my hungry cock in your cunt and fuck you. I will make you scream my name again and again until I finish my business deep inside you… and you will not drink the Moontea. Because this King will bless you with my seeds."

Speechless, with Joffrey's thick hardness shoved in her mouth, Margaery looked up with her eyes, finding his gaze tantalizing her. She had come prepared for a rough fucking, but the last bit was shocking, amusing, but greatly welcomed. Wasn't that precisely what she wanted?

Finally, she released herself from his long, hard girth and voiced her words. "Your Grace, won't Queen Cersei—"

"Queen Mother!" Joffrey suddenly erupted, making Margaery remember who she was dealing with. "You also think I am controlled by that woman? That I can't decide when I want my woman to be with my child?"

Margaery felt everything falling apart once again. She cursed her scheming tongue and felt horrified because she didn't know how he'd react to anything she might say or do next. She had no idea how to pacify him.

"Your Grace, I didn't mean—"

"Ride me," Joffrey ordered her in an authoritative tone.

Margaery bit her lips and followed his order. She rose from her place and straddled his waistline between her milky legs, tightly clutching him with her clenching knees around his waist. She noticed Joffrey admiring her womanhood, even she felt proud of how maintained and beautiful it was. Tight and sightly, enough for any man to feel lustful.

"I will take you in now, Your Grace." She raised her hips a little and guided his shaft with her hand. Once she felt his knob tease her petals, she let go of her hand and slowly lowered herself. Moanful gasps left her lips right away. His size was good, more than any she had seen before.

Joffrey stayed relaxed with arms behind his head. The Rose of Highgarden pleasuring herself on his royal cock was a sight to behold. Her thin but curvy and soft fleshy body was terrific. Not as ivory-pale as Sansa, but the southern charm was an exciting touch from her.

"Ah… You're big, oh!" Margaery sat down all the way until she felt her hips touch his pelvis and reach the base of his shaft. "Ummmh… Deep."

Joffrey scoffs just when she started to rise up to start moving. "Who took your maidenhood? Renly?"

Margaery's ecstasy-filled narrow gaze widened as she forgot to consider that. But she never stopped moving her hips, clenching the walls of her moistened depth in fear that the King would lash out at the lack of pleasure.

Tears welled up in her eyes, unable to look down at Joffrey's eyes. "I… Even if I tell you, you won't believe me."

Joffrey felt amused and aroused by her rocking, perky swells and brown hair. "Indulge me."

Tears finally slid down her eyes and onto her cheeks. She knew Joffrey wasn't going to trust her in his life, ever. She would always be spoiled goods in his eyes, a used woman by the traitor to the realm. "Horsr-ah… Horse riding, Your G-ugh-race."

Uncontrollable tears soon followed. She tried to wipe them away with her hands, in doing so, stopped moving on his sweltering cock. "I'm not lying, Your Grace."

"Give me your hand." Joffrey extended his own and grabbed hers before pulling her body onto him. His cock remained deep inside her as her torso rested on him, skin-to-skin, sharing each other's arousing warmth.

Right then, he slowly began to move his hips up, gently fucking her on his own while her tears never stopped.

"I believe you," he said, close to her ruined face. This was the name of the game. Give something, and then take something; Playing with the mind, breaking the wall of confidence, making her lose her pride, and giving herself completely to him. Become his fanatic lover, hungry for his passionate words and actions.

"Ah!" Margaery yelped when Joffrey moved all of a sudden and turned fully around, pinning her down under him, his shaft never leaving her slippery depth. He began moving right away, pumping his cock with no question and only hunger.

He kept himself fully pressed on top of her at the same time, feeling the sweaty warmth of her skin and her agonizing, moaning breaths.

"Margaery," Joffrey called her name and stroked her cheeks, clearing her tears away. "What made you accept me?"

She smiled and clenched her nimble legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. "I re—alized you are the man of my dreamsss~. You-ugh cared for the smallfolks, stepped into the filth of Fleabottom and even the sewers, gave them food and hope… oh, ah… I fell in love."

Joffrey smiled and quickened his pace, shoving hard and deep into her. It was the perfect position as his cock also teased her clitoris whenever he pushed deep in and out of her. He drank her heated moans at the same time and rested his lips on hers, devouring the sweetness of the rose under him.

"Then…" Joffrey thrust relentlessly and weighed his entire body on her gaping hole around him. "May I… Claim… this lover of mine? Mark her with… my seed?"

Margery felt little explosions of arousal going off in her mind. This side of the King made her feel so needed, loved, and worthy. She wanted him deep, and she wanted this to never end. So she began to shift under him as well, trying to sink her petals around his aggressive, magnificent royal cock.

"Ah, ah, yesss~ Your Graaaace… Mark meee-eh…" she abandoned herself to pleasure and wildly dug her fingers into Joffrey's hair.

"Your Grace… Oh, oh, oh mmmmmnhg~ Your Grace…." she ended up doing what Joffrey had said. His name was on her lips, never leaving as he fucked her until she felt sore, and yet didn't mind. For this was her man, her King, and he had the right to do so.

"Ummmm." She licked his face in wildness and felt explosives shudders rise from her hips upwards. "I'm going to…"

Joffrey felt the same and matched her spasms with his thrusts. Right when she began clenching him hard and pulsating her juices in splashes, he felt his hot fluids leak out as well. With harsh groans of his kingly satisfaction, he let it all out inside.

"Ungh!" Joffrey still kept thrusting hard and deep, long, heavy pumps that echoed in the room, matching Margaery's abandoned screams. He mauled her lips and clawed her breasts with no care. She was his now, and he didn't need any permission anymore.

"Oh, Margaery." He finally felt his release end and let himself fall out of her to her side. Quickly, he spooned her naked body from behind, hugging her waist and nestling his limping cock between her rear.

"My wife… My woman… my queen… If I could, I would love to shove my cock in your cunt every single night, claim your mouth and fill it with my manhood whenever I see you, and even claim you on my throne—but I can't. I have vowed not to indulge in costly affairs until the wars are over, and the realm has seen peace. Forgive me, my queen. You will have to wait a little before our wedding."

Margaery sighed and caressed his hand that rested on her breast. "Your Grace, is that why… You're with… Sansa?"

Intelligent, but not enough. Joffrey secretly smirked.

"Yes and no." He hugged her tightly against himself. "She is indeed a charming lady, one for whom I fell for when I met her in Winterfell. I was a monster to her, Margaery. And I wish to change that. After what happened that day with you—I took a step forward with her.

"She has no ill will towards you, my queen. Nor am I changing you with her. You will always have the first place in my heart and bed. I merely wish to give her the lost days back, being the prince she always wished for. And I hope you can help me maintain her happiness—I will forever be grateful, my most beautiful queen."

He was playing with her mind, and the thought made his cock harden again. He could sense the rapid heartbeat in her chest. He liked it.

Margaery sighed tiredly. "Your Grace… Will you keep her as your concubine?"

He chuckled and kissed the back of her sweaty, scentful neck. "I will send her back to Winterfell once I make Robb Stark kneel to me. And trust me, he will do that very soon."

"What about me?" She asked with confusion in her voice.

"You? As a beautiful wife, you will have a great duty to your husband." He pressed his cock on her ass harder, and slid his hand down to raise one of her legs by her thigh. Then, he eased his knob on her already sore petals and sank in once again. "After all… No Moon tea."

"Ah!" Margaery moaned in utter delight. "My love…"

Making sure she never got any time to think clearly, Joffrey began pumping her with his hard girth, stretching her to his will once again with only one aim.

I hope this seals the deal with her cunt.

…

From afternoon till night, Joffrey made love to Margaery, exploring various ways and positions on the bed, on the balcony, or on the table. He spent all his energy to make sure she was with child—His child.

But as night came, an invited guest arrived at the Red Keep a day early. At the same time, in a certain Queen Mother's chambers, loud moans echoed.

"Ah… Oh, Jamie~" Cersei was alone, naked on her feathery soft bed, using her own fingers to pleasure herself as best she could. "Oh… Oh… Our son has grown soooo~ big."

Never even realizing, despite Jamie's name on her lips, she found herself imagining the face of another boy who had become a man. Another one with a name that started with J.

"Ummmmh… ah, ah… Yes!"

Under the flickering candlelight of the royal chamber, she kept moaning alone till her eyes went heavy, and sleep overcame her. Sadly, she remained unsatisfied, as one could only go so far with a finger, and even Lancel was dead.

"Umm…" she mumbled to herself that night, remembering the overbearing Small Council in her dreams. "Sweet… boy… My sweet child… mmmh."

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