GOT: The Golden Lion

"Ummm… Where are you going, Your Grace?"

Joffrey glanced at the naked rose of Highgarden in his bed, her warm skin stuck on his under the blanket. Her face was filled with exhaustion, and her body was thoroughly cherished until just a few hours ago, the stickiness of his masculine nectar still lingered between her sore legs after the intense lovemaking session.

But he got out of bed and donned his robes. "Go back to sleep, Lady Margaery. Just bodily needs, need some relieving. I will be back."

He pecked her on her lips and waited until she drifted into sleep again. It didn't take long as she was utterly spent.

After that, Joffrey quickly left the room. He ordered the Kingsguard to remain behind and protect the room. In the meantime, he went towards the back area of the ground floor of the Red Keep and noticed Lord Varys standing there in the dimly lit corridor.

"He's early?" Joffrey asked. "You said he'd arrive tomorrow night."

"I was told the same. But it seems he chose to misguide us to maintain secrecy and arrive a night early. I hope this does not change anything, Your Grace," Lord Varys apologized on behalf of the guest.

Joffrey didn't even care, and was rather happy that the man arrived early. He needed him for his next steps to go flawlessly, but at the same time, he knew Illyrio was a dangerous man with too many friends, and his loyalty skewed.

At times, we are compelled to flatter a fool for a selfish end. Illyrio is a means to an end, but I just hope it's not my end. Joffrey thought to himself while following Varys all the way to one of the underground dungeons with a secret passage to the sea.

"There they are." Lord Varys noticed the flickering lights of torches near the mouth of the cave-like exit. "I wish you happy negotiations, Your Grace."

Is he mocking me? Joffrey never liked how Varys was always double-faced. But he was someone he needed for now. He was the only one with spies not only inside Westeros but also outside.

"My dear friend." Varys led the way and called out Illyrio. "His Grace is here."

"Ah, I pay my respects to King Joffrey." Illyrio quickly sized up Joffrey and paid respects without appearing too surrendering. He was morbidly obese, had pig's eyes and fat cheeks, with a huge belly and a pair of breasts that were noticeable even in his clothes. "I am Illyrio Mopatis, a humble magister from the Free City of Pentos, but I suppose you already knew that, hence this… private summons."

I can already smell him scheming against me, or perhaps it's just his filthy sweat. Even my fat oaf of a father wasn't this fat.

Hiding his disgust, Joffrey spoke with the man. "Who doesn't know about the wealthy Illyrio Mopatis? Apologies, the circumstances are such that I couldn't invite you to my court… for now."

Illyrio was a quick-witted man and noticed Joffrey's last words. Right away, he smiled, showcasing his crooked yellow teeth. "Interesting, Your Grace. Come, my men have placed a table and chairs for us to speak in peace."

The place was a crude cave entrance, but still, the man traveled with luxury. The chairs around the table were even cushioned, and there was food on the table. Illyrio didn't wait and started drinking right away.

Such filth. If I didn't have those damn Others to deal with, I'd have never met you. Joffrey felt disgusted in the man's presence.

"I desire two things from you, Magister Illyrio. I want you to decipher a ledger for me, and I wish to make a special purchase through you. Of course, the rewards will be equally magnificent," Joffrey got straight to business as he knew what the man truly wanted. There wasn't much to be gained by helping Viserys and Daenerys, but the man still did it.

After all, he gained a lot of wealth by selling the pretty princess, Daenerys Targaryen, to the rich Dothraki Warlord, Khal Drogo. At the same time, if the Targaryens were to succeed in taking back Westeros, he'd gain much more. It was a 'low investment; utterly high rewards' plan.

"How may I be of service, Your Grace?" Illyrio asked with hidden intrigue.

"I wish to purchase five thousand Unsullied soldiers."

Illyrio choked on his wine and coughed uncontrollably. His belly jiggled with each cough. "W-What? Your Grace… Five thousand? That's… That's a big number."

Joffrey expected that reaction since he knew even Daynarys would only get eight thousand. But she had yet to buy them, and now was the perfect time to put a dent in her numbers while earning some loyal men for himself.

"I am aware, Magister, but that is precisely my wish. Acquire them from Astapor or steal them from other free cities if you must, but I demand five thousand Unsullied. If not that many, then at least over three thousand. Bear in mind, the greater their number, the more substantial your reward." Joffrey dangled the incentive with imperious certainty.

"W-What reward, Your Grace?"

"Your goods shall receive a tax cut, and... a Lordship in one of the regions of the Crownlands or Stormlands shall be yours. Naturally, the extent of your reward will be determined by your actions. Please me, and you shall be granted full exemption from taxes, along with fertile, beautiful lands over which you will hold dominion." Joffrey, however, didn't end his decree there. "You are also expected to decipher the ledger, of course."

While Illyrio felt excited about this partnership, Lord Varys was confused and alarmed. He instantly tried to guess what the young King was trying to do.

"Five thousand soldiers? What will you do with them, Your Grace?" Varys asked quickly. "If you don't mind telling me."

This sly bastard. He might just kill me if he senses any danger.

"End wars in Westeros, obviously. Since my grandfather lacks interest, the task falls to me. It's evident, even to Magister, that peace fosters trade, while war breeds chaos." Joffrey's gaze stayed fixed on the fat man. "And tell me, are the rumors true? Does Daenerys Targaryen possess actual dragons?"

"She does, Your Grace," Illyrio confirmed.

Joffrey slumped back in his chair with an air of disdain, his hand sweeping across his face in a gesture of weary contempt. "It appears you've cast your lot in the most audacious gamble, Magister. For the moment, you reap the rewards of aiding me. But once Daenerys ascends to the throne, you expect even greater spoils, don't you?"

"You don't wish to oppose her?" Illyrio asked, amused at the assertion Joffrey made as if Daenerys' rise was all but certain.

Joffrey gave a nonchalant shrug, his gaze fixed on the eastern sea. "She possesses three dragons if my information is correct. No doubt she plans to bide her time until they've grown, ready to unleash fiery destruction from the skies. I'm afraid, even if I were to gather all the armies in Westeros, they wouldn't be a match against dragons. Aegon the Conqueror's conquest serves as sufficient evidence—I will simply abdicate and live my days in Stormlands. But until such a time, I wish to impose peace upon Westeros with some loyal Unsullied."

Illyrio silently nodded, smiling and staring at Joffrey, and then nodding at Lord Varys. "I'm surprised, Your Grace. All the rumors I had heard about you seem to have been false."

Joffrey chuckled, knowing very well what those rumors were. "Second coming of the mad king, vile, bratty, foolish, weak—Perhaps I was all of that until a while ago, Magister. But, you see, staring death in the face tends to alter a man's perspective quite significantly."

"That it does." Illyrio suddenly remembered his own younger days when he was just a sellsword. "I appreciate this honest way of doing trade, Your Grace. As long as you fulfill the promises, I believe I need no payment from you to bring those Unsullied. The tax relief and lordship will be enough of a reward to recuperate the cost handsomely. As for the ledger you want me to decipher…"

Joffrey raised his hand at Varys on his side. Quickly, the bald Spymaster placed a large ledger on the table and opened it for Illyrio.

Right away, the fat Magister started reading it with focus, caressing his beard with interest while nodding at times. "A master's work, I must say. Such art of hiding the real numbers in plain sight. It's all intentional, of course. So much gold is moving around that no normal person can make sense of this… Of course, I can easily see what's going on—embezzlement, clear theft, false reporting, miscalculations by small amounts that are leading to greater end losses."

Illyrio turned the book around and pointed at something for Joffrey to see. "Look at this entry. I supposed it's for a tourney? The grand total for the expenses is written on this page, but the finer details are hidden around on multiple pages, and they make no sense. Who buys a wooden chair for a Gold Dragon and writes it as 'timber'?

"Similarly, even water has a price there. As for real wine, one would have to be insane to pay this much, and it's not even the finest ones. Furthermore, there are some great misleading calculations."

Peter fucking Baelish. I will skin you alive! Joffrey felt real anger as he finally understood how Robert Baratheon had 'bankrupted' the crown. It was Peter Baelish all along.

And all this for what? Some redheads?

"Magister, can you rewrite these books in a more understandable way?"

"I can, but it will take time," Illyrio replied, "I can send someone to gather the Unsullied, perhaps."

"You may stay in King's Landing under a disguise, Magister. It is imperative that you decipher this ledger."

The Magister agreed and chose to stay on his ship only. With that done, Joffrey decided to end the little secret meeting and return to his room so he could wake up beside Margaery and give her another dose of 'love'.

"Lord Varys, are you going to tell this to my grandfather? Or my mother?" He asked as they walked back.

The bald man remained a step behind, taking short paces. He still feared Joffrey but saw him in a different light now. "I have no incentive to do that, Your Grace. I desire peace in the realm, and if you can achieve it, I only serve you as your Spymaster."

Double-faced eunuch. Joffrey couldn't bring himself to believe him.

"Lord Varys, you may go. We shall continue this in the morning."

With the short meeting done, he returned to his bedchambers, threw away his robes, and jumped back into the bed. Margaery was still asleep, so he embraced her warm, equally naked body and closed his eyes to rest—unaware of the dreams that awaited him.

####

"Kill the bastard!"

"No… Not my baby!"

"Run!"

Joffrey sweated profusely in his sleep, his head turning left and right as if in anguish, sharing it with the pained voices that echoed. However, beyond that, there was a faint hint of a kind voice of a woman, so warm and gentle.

Chaos shrouds the world when there exists blindness to kindness. When Innocent blood is spilled, vile crimes are committed, and the sense of morality appears far from reality. Forgo your loyalty, forget your ties, and fight for peace from the side of neutrality. For a god, there are no sides, only the living and the dead that we guide.

Joffrey calmly listened to the melodic voice, feeling attracted to it. Who is it? He wondered.

O' receiver of the blessing from the Seven, the Old, and more—Stop doubting, and let your ambitions soar. Protected from the knife as long as you stand for life. Blessed by the fire of the fury. From mortal danger, you have the great blessing of the Stranger—Go, live! Learn! Love!

Woosh!

"Aaaah!" Joffrey roared like a madman and felt like he was falling from an endless cliff, finally reaching the end. But instead of pain, he felt a surging warmth all over his body.

"Your Grace!"

Joffrey glanced towards the balcony. It was daylight.

Standing there alone in a thin gown open from the front, Margaery looked at him in worry. She took long strides and brought him a glass of water.

What in the Seven's name was that? Seven? Old? Gods?

Joffrey had no doubt that gods were real since he had already faced a miracle of dying and resurrecting in the past. But he never expected, or rather hoped to find proof of the gods.

A blessing from all of them? Why? To fight the Others?

It made no sense since there were plenty of other righteous knights out there who would have graciously accepted the blessing and saved the realm. So, why him?

"Ah, thank you, Lady Margaery." He drank a glass of water and relaxed back in his bed, lying down completely. "Just a nightmare."

Margaery made no sound, gently crawled on top of the bed, and went under the sheets between Joffrey's legs.

"Oh!" Joffrey felt her hand around his flaccid cock, caressing, trying to stroke. "No need to hide it."

Joffrey threw away the blanket from their bodies and looked down. Margaery had thrown away her gown and now nakedly took his slumbering member in her mouth in an attempt to awaken it.

"Ummm… Let me-eh help, Your Grace."

Joffrey smiled in appreciation and relaxed, feeling all the exhaustion leaving him as his cock rose to fury under Margaery's warm, slippery tongue.

"Good…" he lightly groaned at the pleasure. "Prepare yourself too. I will finish inside you again… It's better you give me an heir at the earliest, my beautiful queen."

Margaery, with his cock still filling her mouth, tried to mumble words. "Ah, Y-oh Graceeee~ We-eh areh not mah-rried."

Joffrey loved the nasty sounds and pressed his palm on the back of her head to shove her down. "You're already my queen, Lady Margaery. We don't need some corrupt, lecherous Septon's permission to make love. You are mine… you will always remain mine."

"Ungh… Ghk!" Margaery tried to speak, but the heavy thrust that came from Joffrey's hips plunged the cock deep into her depth, giving her a morning gag. She tried to free herself, but Joffrey held her there until her lusty, seductive face started to turn red.

This is your life now, Margaery. Learn to live like this for the good of the realm.

"Aaaah! Ha… Your Grace…" She finally received his mercy and was let go, only to be left with a racing breath and coughs. "That was… Oh, so new-ugh…"

Joffrey knew he had to slowly shape her into what he wanted, so he extended his arms to invite her on top of him. Right away, she straddled his cock and leaned her entire body down on his chest, and nestled her face at the nook of his collarbone, breathing steamily.

He didn't wait. With his hands on her waist, he raised her hips a little to position his rock-hard shaft before plunging it in deep with a harsh thrust. He spread her slimy, rosy petals wide and good, filling her with his heat while whispering to her ears.

"My Margaery… Thank you for this little morning gift. It made me truly happy," he said, but the rough pumps of his cock didn't feel that kind. "Remember what I told you before?"

Already a mess with uncontrollable moans, it took her everything to even speak a few words. The way Joffrey relentlessly, mercilessly fucked her already sore cunt reminded her who she was—not a mighty queen, not a powerful noblewoman—just a pleasurehole for her King to use.

"Ah, ah, yessss, yes, Your Graceeee~" She cried into his ears. "No-oooh Moon Teah… Unnnnngh…"

It was a quick one, so Joffrey fucked her on the bed with harsh plunges, messing up the bed even more until it started creaking as if it'd break at any moment. But he didn't care and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down harder on him so his cock could strike deeper, bringing down her defenseless, soaking-wet walls.

Then, as the sunlight started falling into the room and on their bodies, Joffrey felt another sort of heat rise from his core, and his balls began to twitch. He kept his pumps deep from there on, and soon culminated in a shared climax at the same time.

She liberated her morning nectar to drench and welcome the fountain of his seeds that seemed to flow out with no limit. Margaery felt the warmth filling her up, throwing her into a daze of sensual pleasure. Even more so by knowing that this was not meant for mere pleasure but to put his seeds inside her. There was something hot about it that she just loved.

While Joffrey lavished in the warmth of her tight, noble cunt around his calming cock. Slowly, he ended his movements and relaxed, still breathing roughly, keeping Margaery's tight, lithe body on him.

Crack!

Crack!

"Aaaah!" Margaery yelped at the sudden jolts of the bed.

Thud!

"Ugh! This damn bed! It broke!" Joffrey groaned when he realized it wasn't an earthquake.

"Pfft!" Margaery found herself laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, my dear King… Even the bed couldn't handle your lovemaking."

"Yet, I take pride in breaking it while…" Joffrey smiled, liking this submissive side of Margaery more, and whispered into her ears before biting it. "My cock sits in your soaked slit… My lovely queen."

"Ummmh." She wriggled on his sweaty chest and cuddled him, loving his tease. "Will you have me tonight as well, Your Grace? Then in the morning? Every night? Maybe in the middle of the day? Under the table? Just me and you…"

Joffrey abruptly and knowingly changed his expressions into one of seriousness and disgust. He pushed Margaery off of himself and stood up to wear his robes. "This… This is exactly what I despise. Yet another woman trying to control me! First one did it in the name of being my mother, and now another does it in the name of warming my bed… You certainly know how to please me and then ruin the mood with the same darn mouth, Lady Margaery."

Thud!

So suddenly, Joffrey vanished from the room, slamming the door shut. Margaery couldn't even react at the speed it all happened, but once she was left alone, she realized her folly and cursed her damn sharp tongue again.

Thinking she could keep him from meeting Sansa at night, she forgot this wasn't the foolish, easy-to-manipulate Joffrey of rumors.

Alone, tired, sore, and sad, she curled herself on the bed under the blanket and shed a few silent tears. Cursing herself, her fate of being born a woman without any actual power.

####

Joffrey was in a great mood, however. He patted himself on the back and went to a spare room to take a bath and change his clothes.

I must praise myself this time. That was one brilliant move with that Tyrell slut. She really thought she could keep me all to herself. How naive.

But now that he finally had time to relax in the warm bathtub, he silently questioned what he saw in the dream. Thankfully, he had just the person who could help him seek a few answers.

Knock! Knock!

"You may enter."

The doors opened, and a lone woman entered with silent steps. Slender, graceful, and taller than most knights, the long-haired, red-eyed priestess wore an equally red gown with a neckline so deep, it had to be a conscious choice.

No matter what, I have to say she's quite a delight to look at. Joffrey appreciated the false beauty in front of him. But I still won't stick it in there. The mouth service is enough.

"Welcome, Lady Melisandre. I hope you're finding your stay in the Red Keep amicable." Joffrey shamelessly remained naked inside the tub and gestured her towards a wooden chair. "Bring that chair closer and sit. We have matters to discuss."

The Red Priestess moved gracefully and dragged the chair so she could sit in front of Joffrey, just a few feet away from the bathtub. "I am grateful for the care and… affection I have received here, Your Grace. I am able to serve the Azor Ahai, and I am content."

Indeed, that mouth serves me quite well.

Joffrey smiled and relaxed in the tub. "Before we start discussing, why don't you disrobe and pleasure yourself? I'm in a good mood and would like some visual distraction."

Any modest, self-respecting woman would have refused. But Melisandre had come to serve her Azor Ahai, to begin with. So, without asking any questions, she slid off her deep red dress from her shoulders and let it fall around her feet. Then, she removed the remaining smallclothes, which were also blood-red in color.

Joffrey smiled at the sight of her beauty. She had full breasts with tight, pink buds, a narrow waist, alluring hips, and a hidden slit that was pale red inside, visible when she sat down and spread her thighs apart with her legs raised with the help of her toes.

She first caressed her skin, and her dark red hair, sensually gripped her own neck and sucked her fingers before pinching her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips as she slowly reached down to her cunt with one hand, spreading the heated lips apart for the King to see.

Joffrey felt his manhood rise in the water, and he wasted no time to stroke it gently. He didn't plan on releasing; he merely wanted to relax and enjoy the view. "Tell me, Lady Melisandre. You must have seen some vision that made you follow me. What was the vision?"

She was somewhat of a serious person, but her gentle moans in her deep voice sounded far more sensual in that instance. She never stopped pleasuring herself, sinking two of her nimble fingers deep in her wetness while replying. "Ah, Your Grace… I-ah… saw you holding the Lightrbinger and… umm… slaying the dead."

Me? But I've never been her god's follower.

Joffrey stopped stroking himself, stood up in the bathtub, and got out. But instead of cleaning himself or wearing robes, he walked towards Melisandre and then behind her. He gently caressed her hair with his rough hands, then touched her pale, unblemished skin. He caressed down and cupped both her breasts and pressed her peaks roughly between his fingers.

"Can anyone receive these visions?" He asked while touching her body freely.

"Mmmmh…" Melisandre had closed her eyes and relished in the warm touch. "I see it through-ohh the fire. If blessed, one may see it in sleep. The Lo-h-rd has many ways."

"Is that so?" Joffrey mumbled and stopped touching her. Instead, he walked around and stood in front of her chair, his knees between her legs, presenting his erect cock to her face.

Melisandre got the message and silently parted her lips to please her Azor Ahai, taking his hardness deep in her sultry, fiery face hole. All that time, only one of her hands gripped his girth while the other continued to pleasure her own cunt.

Joffrey didn't put any effort and silently stood there with his hands on his waist as if proudly watching the Red Priestess hungrily devour his long length all the way in. It was certainly a fine way to start the day. Of course, fucking Margaery was delightful too, but he did that out of necessity, and this one was simply out of need.

"I had a vision in my sleep."

Melisandre seemed shocked and opened her red eyes to look up at Joffrey. But she knew her place and never stopped sucking him with fervor. "Whath…was ith, Yo-ugh Grace~?"

Joffrey looked to end the little game and leaned forward to her face, and grabbed her long, red hair, in a barbaric grip of his hand. Then, he started fucking her face for good, like it was her womanhood. Constantly, he groaned and talked about the vision, keeping things cryptic.

Plap! Plap!

His dangling balls hit her chin while his pelvis pressed on her nose. His cock probed her throat violently, and she never gagged for even a moment, never tried to push him away, even when he would stop and grind his cock deep for a few moments.

He earned her thick coat of saliva on his heated desire while looking at her red eyes that seemed pleading to hear his response. "It talked about a few strange things. Told me to stop doubting, and let my ambitions soar. It said that I am blessed by the fire of the fury. What does that mean?"

"Unnngh… Yor-oh!"

"Just a little, I'm almost done." Joffrey didn't allow her to speak as he ground her lips mercilessly until she couldn't even feel them. His long, girthy manhood never seemed to come out more than half its length before plunging back in, all its throbbing, pumping veins forcing her mouth to spread more to accommodate his desire.

"Ah… What a morning!" Joffrey finally let the pleasure take over his movements, and the scratching, tingling itch arose from the depths into a peak of thick seeds. But Joffrey pulled out right then and tightly squeezed his shaft with his hands, pumping it toward Melisandre's face.

Dense, sticky strands of sprinkles upon sprinkles of his white release glazed her face and breasts. Her eyes were almost forced shut with the viscous, hot, milky lava. While her lips parted open with the tongue slipping out and taking whatever came close to it in. Her full breasts also showed lines of dripping whiteness, and her entire body was thoroughly painted dirty.

"Ah, oh, my King! My Azor Ahai!" Melisandre violently shifted in the chair as her own fingers also brought her to a release. Quickly, a calm, gentle stream of leaking hot honey was released from her damp depths, leaving her heaving full breasts trembling, her face looking paler and redder, satisfied.

What a beautiful sight. I should try this with Sansa sometime later. Joffrey made up his mind and stepped back from her to clean himself and wear his clothes.

"Go ahead, Lady Melisandre, you can take a bath in my bathtub," Joffrey offered and got himself ready to start his day.

She took his suggestion as if an order and got into the tub to clean herself. But the whole time, her eyes never left the sight of Joffrey. He had changed a lot from what she knew about him. There were signs of muscles on his back and arms—a result of sword-wielding.

"Your Grace, those visions are all but further proof that you are the Prince that was Promised. You are the Azor Ahai," she proclaimed with pride in her voice. "You will lead us into light—"

Joffrey intercepted her. "And defeat The Others?"

Melisandre's eyes widened in shock. It made no sense that a King sitting in King's Landing would know about it, let alone believe in it. "H-How?"

Joffrey chuckled. "Let's just say I've had plenty of other visions, Lady Melisandre. I know the reason I was born in this world, and I know the path I must take. There is darkness brewing in the far North, and there is only one way to prepare ourselves to tackle it."

Melisandre immediately realized the reason behind Joffrey's every move. The way he defeated Stannis, killed him, likely bedded Sansa Stark as per the rumors, and now bedded Margaery Tyrell. It all served towards the end goal.

"Peace!" She exclaimed.

"Indeed, peace. The realm needs to be at peace, united under my resolute and unquestioned rule, so we can muster a formidable army. There are many challenges ahead, but with the aid of my visions, I have no doubt I will accomplish it all." Joffrey gave her some nonsense to motivate her. "Lady Melisandre, I believe there must be other Red Priestesses out there who would be delighted to come and serve me in my destiny. I hope you can invite them here. Furthermore, there is a Targaryen Princess with dragons, who must be brought under control, or she will doom us all—worse than the Others."

Focus, direction, and a plan. Melisandre was amused to finally find someone who at least had real enemies in the focus of his goals. Stannis was only interested in winning the throne.

"I will be honored to serve you, Your Grace."

Joffrey proceeded to leave with a teasing smirk on his face. "You already are, Lady Melisandre."

####

Beyond the Narrow Sea, the many Free Cities, the Dothraki Sea, and across the Slaver's Bay, a certain Targaryen Princess found herself in the city of Astapor, bargaining to buy soldiers for herself.

Unaware of the changing breeze, the power dynamics, and loyalties, she still hoped to take back the throne she considered rightfully her own. But enemies were plenty, and on each turn was a threat to her life.

"Don't come any closer!" Ser Jorah Mormont raised his blade towards the unknown man who appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm just a messenger!" The man took his robes off, revealing his Westerosi features. "Ravens don't come this far… I mean no harm."

Daenerys still remained behind Jorah and Ser Barristan Salmy, having experienced so many assassination attempts already. "You speak Westerosi tongue. Who are you?"

"I'm just a squire who was promised to be knighted at the completion of this task, my Lady. I come bearing a letter for you from His Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon."

Ser Barristen Salmy sneered and stepped forward to snatch the letter. He checked it for any poisons first and then opened it to inspect further. He avoided reading it and only looked at the seal at the bottom. "It is indeed a real letter from the King."

Daenerys could already feel her emotions flaring up at the mention of Baratheon's name. "What does it say?"

"You should read it yourself, Your Grace," Ser Barristen extended it to her.

Daenerys, filled with disdain, took the letter and silently read it. However, upon reaching the last line, she couldn't help but give a dismissive chuckle. "He says he will abdicate the throne if I am to arrive with my dragons and an army."

"Lies, Your Grace," Ser Barristen quickly started. "King Joffrey is nothing but a naive, sickly boy. A pawn of the powerful, who keeps him happy just to keep him away. This must be a ploy of Cersei Lannister or Lord Tywin. They must hope to lure you into lowering your guards, to make you rush your battle and come unprepared."

"I feel the same, Ser Barristen. Burn the letter and kill the squire. He knows what we are doing here. The less they know about us, the better," Daenerys ordered and stepped back so the two men could deal with it.

There was no mercy in her eyes, only firm belief and drive to make her army a reality. To gain enough power to topple Westeros.

And with her dragons, it was all but a matter of time.

Joffrey Baratheon? If you truly wrote this, you are such a fool. She pondered on the letter. A bigger fool if you allowed someone else to do it.

####

Back in King's Landing, two horses surrounded by a few Kingsguards galloped through the streets. The smallfolks moved aside on their own in fear of life.

"Where are we going?"

"To the whores, Uncle." Joffrey rode his horse to the Street of Silk with none other than his uncle, Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the King, and the master of whoring around. "But our destinations differ. You are to go to Lord Baelish's brothel and collect the old financial ledgers from him. Do anything you must, but I need it."

"And where would you be going, Your Grace?"

"To Chataya's Brothel, of course. I've heard so much about that place; might as well take a look while we're here," Joffrey replied, hiding his true intention behind an excited face. "You've been there, haven't you, Uncle? Any names for suggestions?"

Tyrion dreamily sighed and nodded at his nephew with a look of appreciation. He had always wanted to bring him to the brothel to relax a little. "They are all fine. In the end, it depends on choice, but since you're the King, I suppose you can have all of them at the same time if you desire such."

Joffrey hummed in agreement. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea, Uncle. Well, I'll see you at night then. Make sure you get me those ledgers."

With some envy, Tyrion left immediately with his trusted guard, Ser Bronn.

Soon after, Joffrey also arrived at the place of interest, one of the most famous and finest brothels in King's Landing. It was two stories tall, with many of its windows lit. As he unmounted his horse at the door, he noticed a swinging ornate lamp gilded with metal and scarlet glass. The decorations spoke of the luxuries the place must provide.

"Stand guard here," Joffrey ordered his Kingsguards and entered through the door. Right away, he felt attacked by the scent of exotic spices. The entire place was clean and decorated with silky curtains. The candle holders were gilded with metal.

"Welcome to Chataya's Brothel, Your Grace."

Joffrey looked in the direction of the feminine voice and noticed a tall, elegant woman, who he found to be quite handsome. He knew this wasn't a word used for women often, but it felt proper this time. Her ebony skin and sandalwood-colored eyes were quite the charm, and her voice felt smooth. "Summer Isles?"

"Yes, I'm from there, Your Grace."

Joffrey walked closer to her for a better look at her graceful form. The green, tight dress she wore was so thin he could notice the budding peaks of her mounds, and the long cut from her waist gave away the sight of her pleasant, smooth leg.

"If Summer Isles possess such beauty, I feel compelled to commission a fleet and conquer it, Lady Chataya." Joffrey gave his compliments in the strangest way possible. "But regretfully, I came today for a different reason. Bring me to a place where we can talk in peace."

Chataya felt amused and spoke in the accent of her native place. "Men seldom come here to just talk."

Joffrey scoffed and followed her, staring at her gliding walk as her hips swayed. "Men don't come here with the aim of earning money either, Lady Chataya."

"Interesting," she mumbled, leading him to a top-story room with magnificent decorations. There was a massive canopied bed in the center with red silky curtains and white bed sheets, enough for many to sleep on. Besides that, there was a large table with multiple chairs.

This exotic scent is making me feel things. What do they mix in the incense? It seems… intoxicating. Joffrey wondered, thinking if he could use it on women he wanted to bed for 'reasons'.

The woman alluringly sat in the chair closest to his and crossed her legs, revealing as much of her naked, silky smooth thighs as possible. She then poured some Arbor Gold for him. "May I ask His Grace about the 'business' now?"

Joffrey took a sip of wine and relaxed in his seat before placing his hand on Chataya's thighs that she brandished so proudly. He caressed them and felt her dark skin's satin-smooth, sweltering hotness. "I wonder if you're interested in expanding your business."

Chataya knew this man was dangerous, and displeasing him was a road straight to Stranger's embrace. So, she tried to get closer to him, letting him touch high on her legs, almost reaching close to her covered core. "A very lucrative idea, but there is nowhere left to expand, Your Grace. The Street of Silk has not a single alley that lacks a girl willing to sell warmth."

What a seductress. Even her voice is making me feel it in my breeches. Joffrey squeezed his palm and gripped her flesh in response. He liked the silent, sexual tension between them. He was the King. What could she even do?

"Don't worry about that, Lady Chataya. What I need from you is your guaranteed interest. Soon, I'll bring you an opportunity to expand. I will provide you with fine buildings, a few whores, from there you can recruit more, finer ones." He paused there, leaned closer to the mature woman's face, and looked deeply into her eyes. While his hand boldly moved between her incredibly hot, crossed legs, reaching her smallclothes hiding her warming womanhood. "In exchange, I expect unwavering loyalty and seven-tenths of all profits from the establishments, this one excluded."

Chataya, despite being a veteran, and having dealt with numerous crises, felt her heart racing at Joffrey's touch, gaze, and voice. She didn't fail to notice the word 'Brothels', meaning the King wasn't talking about just one more, but many. As for the division of profits, no matter what, it would increase her fortunes, there was no doubt.

"Well," Joffrey shattered the silence, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant air, withdrawing his hand from her legs. "You may present your answer in the days to come. For the moment, I believe it's time I sampled the delights your establishment boasts. Bring forth your girls, would you?"

Somewhat shocked, she quickly stood up. "Of course, Your Grace. I will bring them right away."

After Baelish is dealt with, there will be a void. As a king, I shouldn't enter such business, but with the damn debts, I have no choice. Joffrey cursed seven generations of the Baelish family under his breath. But he had to agree with the man. You could only sell goods once, but a whore, you could sell again and again.

"They're here, Your Grace." Chataya returned very quickly with a line of women behind her, each delicately dressed with a sweet smile on their lips. "The one at the front is m—"

"Let them introduce themselves," Joffrey ordered.

The women noticed the tension in the air and, one by one, introduced themselves with light bows.

"I am Alayaya, Your Grace. Lady Chataya is my mother. I'm honored to meet you."

She is as delightful as her mother, just younger. I can see her being one of the most in demand. Joffrey nodded appreciatively.

"I am Dancy, Your Grace."

My goodness, those are massive. Joffrey admired the beauty of the plump, but shapely woman before him. She had a little pug-nose, some freckles, and long, thick red hair, with a heavy, tall build.

"I'm Jayde, Your Grace."

"I'm called Marei, my King. I've heard so much about the Hero of Blackwater. Today, I saw him. I'm honored."

Joffrey stared at the beautiful young woman. Her green eyes and porcelain skin were so alluring as if calling him to her. But the most significant charm was her silvery, long, straight hair. She speaks like a learned nobleman. What an interesting bunch.

But Joffrey didn't smile and instead appeared frustrated. He stared at Chataya and called her over. The tall, ebony owner of the brothel stepped closer and leaned down to bring her ear to the King.

Joffrey scoffed and violently pulled the woman down until she fell on his lap. As he felt her delicate bottom on his legs, he whispered to her ears. "Let's not play games here, Lady Chataya. I am quite gentle when pleased, but my fury—don't test it. I know you're hiding her."

"Leave." Chataya gulped and ordered her girls. Then she stood up again and fixed her dress. "F-Forgive me, Your Grace. She was unavailable due to her… her motherly duties. I will go and bring her—"

Motherly duties? What? Didn't my whore of a mother get the babe killed?

"Bring both of them," he ordered, just to be sure. "I hope I don't have to remind you where you live and work."

Chataya felt shivers and quickly stormed out of the room. She had already done the best she could, but losing her life for someone else wasn't worth it.

The child should be dead unless it weren't just me who got saved by mysterious means. Joffrey sat there seriously, pouring more wine for himself while repeating a few words from the vision. When innocent blood is spilled, vile crimes are committed—it's my own family that's the greatest sinner then.

Knock! Knock!

The door opened once again, and a young woman walked in, looking utterly scared while holding something in her arms against her chest, covered in a bunch of clothes.

"So it's you." Joffrey stood up to get a better view. "You look younger than I expected. What's your name?"

"M-Mhaegen, Your Grace," she responded with crippling fear in her voice.

Joffrey nodded and slowly walked towards her with hands behind his back, sizing her up. She was a young woman, and undoubtedly beautiful in looks with her light red hair and a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her gray eyes had a strange sparkle in them, while her stature was… small. She was almost petite, with the allure of a woman who just had a baby, as her breasts likely swole and hips gained some flesh.

My fat fuck of a father liked this sort? Poor woman must have been squeezed out of her life under him.

"Leave us," he ordered Chataya sternly and followed her to shut the door behind her. Then he looked back at Mhaegen, who was shivering in fright, her sparkling eyes already filled with uncontrolled tears, and veins appeared on her forehead. "I thought my mother had gotten the girl killed."

"Y-Your… Grace… Mercy p-pleah…" she started sobbing with no end in sight.

Joffrey remained unbothered and stood right in front of her. He gently removed the cloth hiding the sleeping baby's face. "She looks too young. Answer me, Mhaegen, or I will have both of you slaughtered."

She shivered like she was standing on the Wall with no clothes on. So much fear she couldn't even raise her face to look at him, only hugging the baby tightly while trying her best not to fall down. "Your Grace, I was… I-I was with my… child when they came."

With a child? That would mean Father slept with her just before he died. But I don't remember this being the case, nor did the visions show this.

"Give her to me. I wish to have a look." Intrigued, he raised both his hands. "Give her!"

She jolted in fright and handed her baby over. "Please don't hurt my Barra… I beg you, Your Grace…"

Joffrey ignored her and gently held the baby in his arms. Then he walked to one end of the room where a large mirror was placed on the wall. Standing very close, he looked at the baby girl's features and his own.

By the blessing of some god, it seems both of us survived. He muttered to himself and matched the traits. By god's grace, I have bright blue eyes now! I'm sure Cersei must be utterly confused by this. But… I don't have black hair like this girl or Father. Perhaps I should slowly shade my hair darker.

"Barra Storm?" He muttered the name and walked towards the table before placing her on it. Then, he picked two pillows from the bed and put them on the sides of the baby so she wouldn't fall.

If the gods saved you, I have no right to kill you, lest I end up suffering their ire. But it's your foolish mother that I cannot trust… yet.

After that, he focused back on Mhaegen with deep interest. Slowly, he walked around her sobbing form and caressed her shoulder, down her back, then the other shoulder. It made the woman tremble even further. Her thin, pale brown dress, only held by a loop around her neck, started to show wrinkles as she leaned a little.

"Hmm…" Joffrey stopped behind her at last, very close to her body. "It was my Mother who was after your baby. I? I don't care."

"Unh… Your Grace…" She sobbed really hard no matter what he said, and it tested his patience. But when she felt his palm rest on the side of her thin waist, she felt terrified. And when his words resounded close to her ears, she almost felt like fainting.

"Ah… I was wondering what was so good about you that my Father chose to sire a bastard…" Joffrey whispered into her ears and suddenly shifted his hand on her waist further to curve his entire arm around her belly, squeezing her body, her ass against his front. Quickly, the same hand then slid down to the junction of her thighs, teasing her covered petals that were noticeable. "...from this very cunt?"

Right then, Joffrey's other hand cupped one of her swollen breasts, and when he approached to squeeze it and pinch the tip, he felt the moistness on the cloth. She's lactating?

"Angh… Your Grace!" Mhaegen showed surprising resistance, but was still susceptible to his teasing hands. Especially the one down below, which tried to open her apart despite her clothes covering her. "I-uggh… I've been with no one… else… I swear by—Aaaah!"

Joffrey pulled her harder against his body and kneaded her breast roughly until her dress started to get soaked. His hand on her warm loins teased with a heavy flow, pressing hard where her clitoris rested and turning her wet.

"King Robert is dead, but King Joffrey remains." He ignored her useless attempts to get away and whispered into her ear before licking it. "...I am intrigued, however. You wouldn't mind if I inspected what's so good about your cunt, would you?"

"N-nooo, please. Spare… me ah, ah… Your Grace~" She let out an uncontrolled moan when he went too harsh. "I'm only…"

Joffrey scoffed and pushed her towards the bed, throwing her on the soft mattress roughly. Her pale legs came into view immediately, revealing the glow and sprinkle of faint freckles that adorned her skin.

Quickly, he discarded his robes, then breeches, and got completely naked before climbing onto the bed towards the woman. Gently, he raised her dress up from her legs in search of her heated womanhood, left unexplored for a long time if she was to be believed. The further the dress went up, the more he felt excited at the view of her flesh.

He had no clue why it made him so interested and hot for this woman, but he knew he was going to relish this one.

"Umph! Your-oh!" Mhaegen suppressed her sobs and moaned, trying to shut her legs close, only for the young King to part them open easily and rip her small clothes aside to leave her soaking tight slit for the cold air to tease.

Joffrey smiled at the view of her clean, flowery softness and then looked up as his erection grew to its peak.

"Shhhh, just spread them and… do what whores do."

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