As the maidservants bustled about, laying out a feast fit for a king, he watched with detached amusement. When the room had finally quieted down, he resumed. "Cersei, you see, has always been this way. She's convinced that her beauty and her body are the only tools at her disposal, to wield the power she so craves. Jaime's been guided by his cock since youth, and Lancel, well, he's no different. And if the whispers are to be believed, even Moon Boy isn't immune to her charms."
A deep, disgusted frown took over Joffrey's face. "Moon Boy? The darn court jester? Are you serious, uncle? Does she have no self-respect? Has she no dignity? By the Seven! She's no better than a Flea Bottom whore!"
Tyrion felt a little awkward. He never expected Joffrey to speak of his own mother like that. Sadly, if only he knew what else his ears were to witness that night.
"Uncle, there's something else I want to tell you about Mother," Joffrey started, each word measured. "I'll need your help in this matter."
"Anything, Your Grace."
"Call me Joffrey." He eased up the air and started, "Ever since I banished Mother from the Small Council and stripped her of all her power, she's been…"
As Joffrey spoke, Tyrion forgot to eat the succulent piece of meat on his plate. Goblets of wine turned empty and got refilled too, the disgust in his heart for Cersei only grew more with each passing moment.
"...so, I'll need your help when I'm away from King's Landing."
Tyrion heard a ring in his ears as if he lost the ability to listen. His brows rose to meet his scalp and failed to come down. "I-I… I will follow your word even if it costs my life… She truly outdid the Targaryens."
Joffrey sighed and focused on eating his food. True, it was Cersei who started that game. But it was he who decided to play it and end it on his own terms. He kept himself from making any comments.
"What about your marriage, Joffrey? With Margaery dead, and your clear disinterest in marrying Sansa—you have to pick someone."
"I already have," Joffrey replied.
"Who? Which house?"
"An almost extinct house."
Tyrion was too smart not to realize it. "Does this house have a three-headed red dragon as a sigil?"
"It does."
Tyrion gulped. "Daenerys Targaryen? Why? She hates you."
"She has dragons, and I need them," Joffrey answered and smiled just from imagining her reading his latest missive. "Furthermore, if I don't act now, it's only a matter of time before her dragons mature and come battering down our doors with their fiery breath."
"Why would she accept you?"
"Because I hold the realm by its balls," Joffrey declared. "Besides, Targaryen sigil has a three-headed dragon. Me, her, and… Sansa fit well. North, West, and with her the rest of the Seven Kingdoms will be under my control."
"You think you can control her?"
Joffrey smiled brightly at that, showing the most spine-chilling, kind, and handsome face on him that Tyrion had ever seen. "Uncle, women like Daenerys—broken by fate, desire nothing but the illusion of respect, loyalty, and loving desire from their husbands. She'll find plenty with me."
Tyrion felt goosebumps all over his skin. This wasn't his nephew—it couldn't be.
But he simply didn't care anymore. Whoever this Joffrey was, he knew how to play the game.
"Father must be so proud of you."
"That's why I'll soon use him to conquer the Reach and then take Tyrosh and Lys for myself," Joffrey revealed. "Tyrosh is renowned for sending its men Beyond the Wall to capture wildlings and enslave them. So I'll have those very wildlings joining my army, eager to sacrifice themselves for my 'glorious' cause. As for Lys, I only want it for their fine whores—there's a fortune to be made in that trade."
"Pffff…" Tyrion spewed out his wine all of a sudden.
"What?" Joffrey frowned.
Tyrion cleaned his face and snorted again, holding back his laughter. "No… it's just… I didn't expect Westeros to go from a Whoremonger King to a Whoreseller King."
"Hah… haha!"
At that, even Joffrey laughed. Being able to laugh at himself was something he had learned recently.
It was quite beneficial in the long run.
"You are not wrong there, Uncle."
"To the victories over women and land." Tyrion raised his goblet.
Joffrey did the same and toasted. "To you finding Tysha."
Both of them nodded solemnly and downed it in one go.
####
A little tipsy, Joffrey returned to the Red Keep after finishing dinner. Walking through the hallway, he purposefully took a turn away from his bedchambers. Although he very much liked the idea of bedding Val that night, he chose to postpone it in favor of giving Sansa some love and furthering the game with Arya.
"She's alone?" Joffrey asked the Kingsguard outside Sansa's room.
"She's with your daughter and Lady Arya, Your Grace."
Hah, Lady Arya? Joffrey chuckled and pushed open the door as gently as he could. But, being slightly drunk, it wasn't easy to keep everything under control. Thankfully, he found everyone already asleep. Perfect.
The entire room was barely lit, just a single candle on each side of the bed. But it was enough to discern which one was Sansa on the bed, and which one Arya. So, he quickly removed all his clothes till nothing but his rings and a lone locket on his neck remained.
No need to be silent this time.
With heavy feet, he walked over to Sansa's bedside and lifted the quilt. He didn't try to be slow at all, and easily woke her up from her sleep. She held back a yelp with her own palm on her lips. Her faintly visible brows relaxed as soon as she recognized him.
"Y-Your Grace?" Sansa whispered loudly.
Joffrey removed the entire quilt from her body and proceeded to raise her sleeping gown from her ankles. He did it so fast that Sansa instinctively raised her hips, and then her back to let him do as he pleased.
No smallclothes. What a good girl you are, my Sansa.
Finally, he got down on the bed right atop her slender, slightly fleshy body. Her well-developed, nectar-filled breasts jutted out even in that dark. But he reached for her lips first. "Can't I come to taste my sweet Sansa?"
With butterflies in her stomach, Sansa blushed. She caressed his longer, dark blonde hair and smiled like a sculpted goddess. "You can… anytime, Joffr—um."
Joffrey didn't let her finish and gripped her succulent soft lips with his own driving, strong kiss. Oh, how long it had been since he made love to Sansa. He had almost forgotten how amazing it was to play with her docile body.
He broke off the kiss for a short moment and looked at Arya's frame just an arm's length away.
"S-She might wake up," Sansa warned.
Joffrey already felt hard enough that his throbbing cock had slid between the tight gap of her thighs. His lips tingled to claim her filled breasts and claim the prize of entertaining her. "Don't worry. She exhausts herself daily with her pitiful training. She must sleep like a log."
"Hmm…" Sansa surrendered instantly to his desire and hugged him back before pulling his face down to her own lips. She parted her lips to let her beloved man enter and claim her like he had the right to. This was her duty, as taught by Septa Mordane. "Umm…"
What a delight.
Joffrey humped the gap between her thighs. His thickness was enough to make that gap feel tight, and long enough to tease her heating petals. His tongue picked up the pace of kissing her, coiling with her tender flesh and exchanging the heat of their bodies in the most intimate ways.
"Take me in your mouth." Joffrey stopped kissing her suddenly and eased his weight off her body. Like an obedient doll, Sansa shifted and sat up, letting Joffrey rest where she was before. Swiftly, she knelt between his legs, on her elbows, and gripped his royal cock.
Joffrey heaved an intense, long breath as soon as he felt her tender fingers clench around his girth. He was rather proud of his cock. But more than that, he loved this second life of his.
Uh… She's gotten better. He relaxed his body and let Sansa suckle his cock like her life depended on it. He knew her only desire at that moment was to pleasure him and win more of his love.
Arms folded under his head, he closed his eyes and just felt the warmth of her gyrating mouth on his length. Every time she drove down, the tight, soft clenches of her throat made him thrust up a little. Every time she pulled out, he loved her attention to his knob as her tongue circled around him.
Her warm, soft hands rubbed him profusely, stroking up and down, at times rubbing him like a cork, round and round. It was amazing, and yet another reminder why Sansa was one of the best investments he made.
"That's enough," Joffrey said, not even bothering to suppress his voice too much. "Ride on it."
He just didn't feel like doing a lot of work that night.
"Umh…" Sansa straddled Joffrey and raised herself high on his cock. Heaving breath, she grabbed his length from the front and aligned it with her tight, pale rosy slit. She didn't take it in quick and rather rubbed his knob across the length. Her voice had already begun to whimper in expectation of being filled by it.
"Ah!" She went down at last.
Joffrey opened his eyes and looked at her slender body. He gripped her waist and let her slowly ease down onto his length. He felt every little pushback from her tight walls as he speared further and further, against every bump and fold of her inside flesh.
"Aaaah~" Sansa shut her eyes once she felt him breach the deepest parts. Once sure she had taken all of him inside, she fell forward, only to support herself with her hands on his chest. "I-I… It's big."
"Because of you, Sansa," Joffrey cheekily replied and caressed her dangling breasts. "Move slowly."
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