GOT: The Golden Lion

Right at that instant, Tyrion, Bronn, and even the group of Kingsguard stared at the young squire with keen interest, staring daggers as their ears perked up.

"Well…" Pordick felt embarrassed and scared at the same time. "I… I just… w-went down on them with my tongue, Your Grace."

Joffrey stopped suddenly, and the rest as well. He glared at the squire, wondering if he lied. "Show me your tongue."

"M-My King…"

"Show it!" Joffrey ordered.

Podrick looked at Tyrion once but received no help. In the end, he opened his mouth and let out his tongue.

"All of it!" Joffrey ordered again.

And there it was, a tongue like a fucking serpent. It hung out so much that it went even below his chubby chin. Joffrey, Tyrion, and Bronn were speechless as much as they were horrified.

"Bet his cock's small," Bronn scoffed.

"No…" Tyrion exclaimed, finding Podrick averting his gaze. "How big? How many inches? Five?"

Podrick shook his head.

"Six?" Bronn questioned.

Podrick once again denied it.

"Eh… Seven?" Even Sandor Clegane asked. He couldn't hold himself back.

Yet Podrick didn't nod, only shook his head.

Joffrey's jaw was wide open, brows far up in amusement. "E-Eight?"

This time, Podrick didn't react at all and just kept staring down at the dirt road. That made everyone there gasp and groan, everyone looking at the squire's crotch. It didn't look big at all.

"Seven hell! We are living with a giant." Joffrey exclaimed and started walking again. "Uncle, bring him to me tomorrow. I'll call a whore. Let's watch him pleasure her… perhaps we'll learn a few things."

"Brilliant idea, Your Grace." Bronn was very much on board with the plan.

"Gods…" Most of them exclaimed and silently returned to the Red Keep. It was late evening already, so dinner was to be served soon.

####

As the King, Joffrey ate his meal with his family. He didn't mind Tyrion and Sansa's presence, but Cersei's constant sneering face towards Sansa, trying to make her feel less worthy, constantly annoyed him.

She still doesn't understand where she belongs. Why didn't Jaime do something to her? Joffrey cursed under his breath while eating. He knew Cersei would have loved to have Jaime share the table, but Joffrey wasn't ever going to let that happen.

"I'm done." Joffrey finished quickly and got up. He approached Sansa and took little Joanna from her lap. "I have sparring practice with Ser Jaime."

"Uncle…" Cersei interrupted.

Joffrey eyed her with a threatening gaze. "He teaches me as a Kingsguard, not as my uncle. The day he took the oath, he let go of all familial relations."

"But it's bloo—"

This fucking whore! Joffrey became furious. It seemed Cersei had the wrong idea that she now had his heart and mind in control. "Blood means nothing when my own father became king by murdering his blood relatives, as thin as it may be. The only uncle I have now is Tyrion, the future Lord of Casterly Rock."

That was a huge statement from Joffrey, one that was going to reach Tywin's ears very quickly. But Joffrey wanted that to happen. It was time to start pressing the old lion.

"This filthy imp! He murdered your grandmot—"

Joffrey stared at Cersei so seriously that she shut her mouth midway. "You call yourself queen mother, a noblewoman, one of the most beautiful women in Westeros, and yet dare to have such a foul tongue in the presence of your king?!"

A tug of war it was. Give Cersei a little love, and take a handful of her pride away simultaneously. "If we go by that idea, then did you murder the son you had before me?"

The rightful Baratheon. Joffrey knew very well that Cersei might have been the one who killed the babe just because it was Robert's trueborn.

Cersei poured out a few tears from her eyes. She stood up, looking pained. "Joff—Y-Your Grace, is that how you see your own mother?"

"I expected more from you, Mother. Yet here I stand disappointed," Joffrey replied, handed Joanna back to Sansa, and gave a nod to Tyrion before leaving. "Go prepare for the wedding. Only three days remain."

####

Clank!

"Haaaa!" Joffrey trained with Jaime at night, on an open terrace of the Red Keep. A special private training ring had been made for Joffrey there, complete with mud covering the floor to soften the landings. Spears, swords, and warhammers aligned the walls for practice.

And Joffrey used his warhammer right now. He had grown stronger, heavier, broader, and muscular after so much daily training. His speed didn't match Jaime, but his warhammer always struck and blocked precisely.

"Brilliant, nephew!" Jaime praised each time he found himself struggling against his secret son's strength. "Even better than King Robert, if I must say."

"Don't overpraise me, Uncle," Joffrey barked and lunged forward with a straight-down strike. Of course, Jaime blocked, but it threw the Kingsguard back, down on his knees. Joffrey quickly strode forward with a stab.

"Not that easy!" Jaime rolled aside and struck Joffrey on his legs with the edgeless sword. "Speed… You won't do well against an opponent like me. King Baratheon was too large of a man that he could swing the warhammer with relative ease. You still have a long way to go."

Joffrey panted, covered in dirt all over. "I know… I know that…"

Thud!

Joffrey laid down on his back on the dirt to rest. "Thank you for teaching me, Uncle. If only we hadn't let Ser Barristan go… It was a foolish move on Mother's part."

Jaime's eyes turned dark with Cersei mentioned just then. Remembering the events of that night, his hand on the sword hilt clenched tight. Y-You promised me, Cersei. Don't break it.

Jaime agreed with that assessment, however. Barristan was a legend, and losing him was a big deal. "And now he works for the Targaryen girl?"

Joffrey nodded, sighing. "And she has three dragons… growing big as days pass."

"You believe that?"

"It has been confirmed from multiple sources, Uncle. I have no reason to blind myself to reality. Why do you think I ran across the realm to end the war and establish peace? Only with the Seven Kingdoms firmly in my grasp can I ever dream of holding my throne," Joffrey said, weaving a tale more suited to the situation. In reality, he was more worried about the White Walkers than the dragons.

Jaime didn't object anymore. "Then… my sword will be the first to face any danger to your life, Your Grace."

Joffrey just smiled and let the silence take over. It wasn't easy to push Jaime enough that he'd stand against Cersei. But he was confident it could be done, given enough trauma, slowly.

When should I use Tyrion and Tysha's incident? He pondered while resting.

Soon, he got up and returned to his bedchamber. There, like most days, warm water was prepared for him to take a bath. But that day, instead of Mhaegen, he had called Melisandre to serve him.

However, he had no desire for pleasure that evening. At least not from the red priestess. He sat down in the tub and let the red-haired, ripe beauty rub her soapy hands over his body to clean him.

He enjoyed her delicate fingers, her entire body and persona made to be seductive. Yes, his cock gained size and stood straight, but he still didn't lay a hand on her. Instead, he called her to exchange words.

"Melisandre, how many Red Priestesses are in Essos?" He inquired.

The woman's smile grew as if knowing where he was leading. "Tens of thousands, my King. All of them have a following of thousands of men and women."

"So… if I ask you to help me lay a peaceful siege of Lys someday, will you and the Red Priestesses aid me?"

Melisandre breathed deeply and got behind Joffrey's head, behind the tub. Intimately, she reached forward with both her hands and rubbed his chest, while her lips whispered into his ears. "Your Grace… You are the Azor Ahai… You are the chosen one of R'hllor. We live to serve you and aid you in fulfilling your destiny."

Joffrey nodded firmly. But Lys alone won't be enough. Myr, with its wealth, can be a jewel in my crown. Braavos… is too big for now.

"Do you wish to make Essos yours, my King?" Asked Melisandre.

Joffrey sighed as if telling her it was impossible. "Not all of it, but all that is on its west coast—the closest to Westeros. The Seven Kingdoms have been stagnant for too long, and our brutal wars consume much of our resources and talent. It's time the lords of this realm start looking outward for more riches… only then the throne will be secure."

It won't hurt to have a grand navy now. Joffrey still had too many things to deal with before going forward with this plan.

"The servants of R'hllor stand with you, Your Grace."

"And I am grateful for that." Joffrey got up from the tub, done cleaning himself. "Walk with me."

Joffrey wore simple robes, just breeches and a tunic, nothing fancy. Grabbing his sword, he left his bedchambers and began walking towards a certain favorite section of the Red Keep.

However, just as they were passing by a section, Joffrey looked out the large open window on the side of the hallway. He looked down in the distance at the Red Keep's gates. A line of extravagant carriages was entering with guards holding the sigil of House Tyrell.

"Must be Margaery," Joffrey sneered. "The ungrateful wench has arrived."

Melisandre stood beside him, glancing at the carriages. "The thing you asked me has been prepared, my King."

"Brilliant. Hand it to me the night before my wedding," Joffrey ordered and continued to walk away. This time, he went alone with just Sandor behind him.

Soon enough, he arrived outside a closed door that was being protected by Unsullied soldiers of the Golden Legion. They saluted him quickly and stepped aside, letting him enter.

Joffrey acknowledged them and entered. He maintained his steps as soundless as possible, his eyes getting accustomed to the faint light in the room from two candles and the moonlight.

There you are, my dear Sansa. Joffrey fondly looked at the sleeping girl, her beautiful long red locks let loose under her head as she lay flat on the bed. Her gown was a single loose piece, sleeveless, the quilt, a thin sheet.

Joffrey quickly removed his tunic, and then his breeches, standing very much royally naked. Then, he stepped closer to the bed. But he noticed a small cradle on the side as well, and little Joanna was sleeping soundly in it.

What the hell did that squire do? Still curious about Podrick, Joffrey climbed onto the bed from the foot side and reached Sansa's legs. First, he moved away the quilt and then began to roll up her loose gown, finding more and more of her creamy pale long legs.

"Umm…"

Joffrey smiled, hearing Sansa's hum. But he continued to roll the gown up until he saw the view—no small clothes on her.

I wonder who tastes better. Catelyn or Sansa? Joffrey thought and gently spread Sansa's legs wide and got down between them, lowering his face to her unaware, innocent rosey pink petals.

At last, he gave the first smooth lick of his tongue at her tightness. Having birthed a babe had changed some things, but in no way was she less desirable.

"Oh!" Sansa jolted awake and raised her head quickly; her hands reaching to her sensual loins.

"Shhh…" Joffrey quickly reacted and slid on top of her body, bringing his face to hers. He quickly pecked her there, finding nothing but love in her eyes as she recognized him.

Yet, Sansa appeared frightened. She suddenly turned her face towards the side, "B-But…"

Joffrey did the same and looked at another girl sleeping there, a Stark, no less—Arya Stark.

"She won't wake up," Joffrey assured her, already feeling the dampness of her swollen, lactating breasts against his chest. "I'll be gentle."

"W-What if she wakes up… Oh!" Sansa shut her lips when Joffrey nestled his face on her neck and showered her with love. For more than a year, she had waited for this.

"Shh… let me relish my lovely northern bride." Joffrey once again slid down between her legs.

However, he constantly gazed at the other sleeping figure on the bed. His cock only reacted wilder at the view.

Oh, Arya, my wolf girl… Let's begin your taming. Joffrey lowered his face to Sansa's drooling lower lips. Please, do wake up.

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