[All characters are aged up and adults in the story.]
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"In your dreams, Joffrey. I accept the bet!"
Joffrey chuckled and looked back. "Brave."
"You better keep your word," Arya growled like the wild wolf girl she was and pointed her Needle sword at him. "Don't cry if you bleed like the last time."
Joffrey's jaw tightened a little at that jab. He knew she was talking about that riverside incident. But he wasn't the same old Joffrey anymore.
With a metallic grind, Joffrey drew his sword. "Quite a loudmouth you got there. Don't worry, I'll have it stuffed very soon."
Arya glared at him and prepared to fight.
Joffrey used both hands to hold his sword and started circling, maintaining distance between them. He measured Arya's steps that lacked the finesse of a trained warrior. Her sword was strange, but he knew her shortcoming was her stature, reach, and strength.
Woosh!
Arya moved fast and waved her hand as she had trained. One hand behind her back, she maintained a very to-the-book pose while cutting the air with the sharp top of her blade.
Clank!
Joffrey easily broke her rhythm with a wide slash. He was taller than her and his arms were longer. His blade was also lengthier, making it impossible for Arya to reach him without endangering herself.
"Impressive," Joffrey mockingly praised.
Arya gritted her teeth and started to attack frantically. Combos after combos, it seemed like a dance. Her Needle made arches in the empty air trying to land a blow to Joffrey. However, Joffrey was also quick on his feet and moved accordingly.
Pat!
Joffrey pivoted on his feet and suddenly got behind Arya, reducing the gap. Being so close, he caught her in an elbow necklock and pressed her back against his chest. Arya tried to wiggle out but Joffrey's grip only strengthened.
"You!"
Joffrey chuckled while feeling her entire back against himself. She had grown finely but lacked the flesh that Sansa had developed. However, her lively persona was exciting.
"Did you truly believe you were the only one who trained all this time?" Joffrey asked while lowering his face down beside her face. Softly he let his lips caress her ear for a tease. "That my victories in the North were mere luck?"
"Haaah!" Arya tried to do her best, even trying to bite him on his forearm under her chin.
Joffrey chuckled and suddenly released her, pushing her away. But he swung his sword at the same time, aiming the flat side of the blade and smashing it hard on her tight buttocks.
"I suggest you get serious, wolf girl. I won't be this kind next time." Joffrey warned her and prepared to end it quickly. It was evening already, and he wanted to end this before dinner time.
"You!" Arya felt a burning heat on her rear from that sword slap. "You're pathetic!"
"Yet I'm the King," Joffrey quipped.
Arya skipped forward, stabbing her Needle straight with the intent to kill. Her speed was increased, but she gave up on technique for it.
Clank!
Joffrey easily swung against her stab and connected. His higher strength threw Arya off balance, her hand holding the sword got yanked to the side. Joffrey immediately followed through and landed his blade on Ayra's shoulder, the edge softly touching her neck. Just a little movement and it would easily slide through her skin.
Pitiful. Joffrey saw the desperation in Arya's eyes.
He could understand where her hatred was coming from. He even agreed with it as it was logical. She had seen her father beheaded, his head skewered on a pike for display for weeks.
Even if she somehow believed his lies that it was Cersei's doing, it was impossible for Arya to lose her hatred for Joffrey. After all, he was the reason why she had lost her dire wolf. His family was the one responsible for Robb's death and so many more.
But the more he pitied her the more he desired to tame her. A loyal wolf can go a long way in helping me stabilize my rule. Once I'm done with her, it's better to give her to Tommen.
"Drop the sword, Arya." Joffrey threatened her. "I've won."
Arya dared not make any movements. But her eyes still held plenty of defiance. "Just kill me, Joffrey."
Joffrey smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I expected more resolve from a Stark," he sneered. "Are you trembling at the thought of upholding your end of the bargain? Very well, I'll grant you a reprieve. Take a week to hone your skills, then come and challenge me again."
Arya stared at Joffrey without moving, feeling his cold sword still on her neck. She gulped, asking herself if this was worth it. Joffrey was far too strong for her and she had seen it first hand. But she was rebellious, with a fire burning in her to prove herself. Losing to Joffrey was something she couldn't ever accept.
"W-With the same terms?" She asked back.
"More or less." Joffrey shrugged. After all, after having her throat, why would he ask for that again next time? "Make up your mind now, I don't have all day."
Arya gritted her teeth, her breaths had already calmed down. Her thin lips squeezed together in that moment of hesitation. She had never seen a cock up close, let alone take it between her lips. "What if I refuse?"
Joffrey scoffed and pressed the flat side of the blade harder on her shoulder. "Then I'll understand that House Stark is full of craven cowards who lack the honor to uphold their own pitiful bargains."
"Don't be so full of yourself!" Arya glared at Joffrey for that. "I'll beat you next week, Joffrey."
Classic Starks. So easily swayed with honor and such nonsense. Joffrey simply smiled at her threats since he knew that next week he'd take more from her than just her lips.
"Then throw away your sword," Joffrey repeated.
Clank!
Arya did as asked, throwing her needle sword to a distant corner of the room. "There..."
Ah, that ferocious face. Joffrey removed his blade in response while admiring her athletic form. Her head only reached his chest, her lithe form lacked curves, and her cheekbones were sharp and yet charming. With her shoulder-length brown hair, her gray eyes were a highlight.
Indeed, she was more a Stark than a Tully.
Joffrey sheathed his sword and stepped closer to Arya. He noticed her flinching and looked away, nervous about the events that were to unfold. Yet, she never stepped back and allowed Joffrey to stand looming before her, so close that his boots touched hers.
"You know." Joffrey made a move, sliding one hand over her thin waist draped with tunic, while his other hand reached for her face. His fingers caressed her cheek before cupping it with his entire palm. "You're beautiful."
"What?!" Arya exclaimed suddenly and looked up at him. It was a reflex since she only remembered being teased all her life in Winterfell. Being called Arya horseface by other girls.
Joffrey chuckled and continued to caress her face, reaching to her sweaty hair and combing through it until his palm was spread on the back of her head. "You have a different charm that most girls lack. Unlike most, you train with swords, always prepared to fight—I like it."
Joffrey noticed the shock in her gray eyes while her face became a little flushed. He knew she had likely never been complimented by a man before, let alone touched. But he didn't lie either and rather liked Arya's entire persona. She was similar to Val but less developed than her in certain areas.
So he showered her with compliments. The plan was to fuck her face eventually, but it didn't need to start rough and fiendish. The goal was to tame her, not break.
"Don't mind if I…" Joffrey suddenly pulled her in by her waist, held her face in place with the other hand, and softly leaned down. With his face slightly tilted sideways, he locked his lips with Arya's.
This was most likely Arya's first kiss, and that made it all the more important for Joffrey. He held her tight against himself, ensuring an exchange of warmth. His lips remained passionately locked with hers for a few moments before he finally started moving.
Taking in her delicious, fresh sweetness, he probed in and parted her lips with his. With that, his tongue swept in and mated with the moistness within her, sliding between her parted lips and stroking her mouth to ecstasy.
"Ummh!" Arya breathed out that bordered a moan. This was all new to her, her first kiss. And somehow it made her heart race faster than the duel she had just lost. At first, her hands tried to push against his chest, but once his hot tongue met hers, her arms went limp.
Both their breaths turned choppy. Arya began to respond to Joffrey's intruding tongue in no time, being far too inexperienced to hold back. Their silky flesh danced against each other, sweeping and sharing warmth.
Finally, Joffrey broke the kiss and pulled back. A long string of their mixed sticky spit stretched, connected to both their lips.
"Sweet…" Joffrey complimented again and started pushing her back. He kept at it until she bumped into a table behind her, old, dust-covered, with a broken model of some ancient city built on it.
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