GOT: The Golden Lion

Joffrey pushed Cersei from above him onto the bed and turned her around, not wanting to see her face. With savage, unhinged thrusts, her rear clapped against his cock, her slit sorely speared, and her rear flesh rocked.

Her moans never stopped constantly dripping with Jamie's name. Her fingers clawed at the bedsheet with her face shoved on it, muffling her voice. Without knowing, she accepted the wild fucking that Joffrey himself hated.

I will kill you, woman. This is the first and the last time. Joffrey gritted his teeth and forced himself to a release, while Cersei had already come a few times in her heightened pleasure.

But he had to work hard to push himself. Needing more arousal, he grabbed Cersei's golden blonde hair and tugged at it, making her moan and giggle. With the other hand, he smacked her rear as hard as he could until she cried.

Her aching voice pushed him closer to the edge, forcing him to press his pelvis further into her to reach deeper. He closed his eyes and simply glided in and out through her squelching hot core. Her tall, mature, yet beautiful body just shook against him; making him feel disgusted.

"Ah, Aaaah… yes, Jamie… I'm close, my love!" Cersei panted as another climax was pulled out of her.

Her rear rose up on its own, earning stronger thrusts. The slippery, slimy nectar leaked from her swollen pussy, red from Joffrey's relentless fucking. The initial plan to finish quickly had failed, and it had been almost half an hour of non-stop fucking her with no break. He really couldn't get past that disgusted thought.

Joffrey released her hair and let her face fall back down on the sheets. She fell into a numb, exhausted slumber right away; too tired from the shagging and the wine she had drunk beforehand.

Joffrey thanked the Seven and quickly eased out of her drenched slit. Quickly, he started jerking off himself with one hand, and the other hand spread her feathery soft rear for a perfect aim at her core.

He simply couldn't bring himself to finish inside her. He hated it to the point he felt suffocated in his chest.

"Ugh…" he panted, feeling the tickle inside his rock-hard length.

Stroking it, he eased as close as possible to Cersei's soaked and flushed petals to finally let it out. Thick, white loads of his young seeds spilled all over her, coating her entrance like a veil. A few drops drizzled down to the sheets, but Joffrey made sure to pour every last drop on her so she'd notice in the morning.

Utterly exhausted, he finally fell to the side after feeling some calm in his loins. But just then, his mind felt a lot clearer, and disgust arose by manifolds. The memories he had of this woman from his younger days, her warm smiles, and her loving hugs felt infuriating.

"Agh…" He couldn't hold it and had to make a run for one of the flower pots. There, he felt like vomiting, but only dry heaving came out. "This… whore… why did you do fuck everyone but the man you should have… fucking traitor…!"

After cursing her out a few times, he returned to bed after drinking some water. Again, he crawled beside Cersei and tried to fall asleep despite the pulsating headache.

If my rebirth here had a reason, I truly hope this was a part of your plan—Gods. He prayed in silence. If not, I'm no better than her and Jamie.

A few minutes and gasps later, his eyes got heavy, and slumber greeted him before he realized it. After straining himself so much mentally and physically, his rest was quite enjoyable.

So much so that he didn't notice when the morning came and the breeze from the open balcony started fluttering the curtains. However, it was a faint yelp that woke him up.

"...Joffrey! Wake up! Joffrey!"

"Umm?" Joffrey finally opened his eyes and almost sneered.

He didn't like seeing Cersei's face first thing in the morning, nor her dangling ivory globes. But he noticed the quilt covering her legs; proof she had seen it.

"Mother?"

"What happened last night?! Why are you naked in my bed? Why am I indecent…" She found herself stuck at the mention. "D-down there?"

Joffrey felt his mind quickly wake up and remembered what had occurred last night. Right away, he started acting the way he had planned.

"Aah!" He yelped and shifted away from Cersei. "Mother, why would you do that to me?"

Cersei's face went pale.

"W-Why did you keep calling me Jamie?"

Oh, that look on your face. It almost makes all that misery worth it. Joffrey rejoiced inside. Prepare yourself to become my slave now, woman.

"I just wanted to talk to you… you were so drunk. You made me drink too, and then…" Joffrey showed horrified expressions. "You pushed me down and… why, Mother?"

"Ugh…" Cersei groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. She could remember drinking and even riding Jamie. Now she knew it wasn't a dream, and certainly not Jamie. "I was missing my brother…"

"While you were jumping on my cock?"

"Don't!" She shouted. "Don't say that. It was a mistake, so please forget about it. Nothing happened here between us."

Joffrey, feigning ignorance, crawled back to Cersei. He grabbed her hands and stared at her face. His cock naturally started going erect at the view of her plump mounds. "But I finished inside, mother. I've committed a mistake… But don't fear, Mother. I will take responsibility for this."

"Joffrey, you-umph." She lost words when his length reached peak erection. The bulging size and girth amused her and woke up something deep inside. "It's alright. I'll take moon tea. Please, forget about this and go back to your room."

She breathed heavily and lost her ability to look anywhere but his cock. The throbbing purple head seemingly flinched every now and then, inviting her.

"But I am the King," Joffrey replied, suddenly standing upright on the bed. Being so close, as he stood up, his shaft dangled very close to Cersei's face. "You taught me to be responsible. I will accept your decision, Mother. But I still stand firm in taking responsibility."

Cersei remained silent for a while. Her long breaths were audible while her face inched closer to his cock, ever so slowly. "Thank you for understanding, my Joff. Forgive me for what happened… last night."

Having had enough, Joffrey nodded and jumped down from the bed. He started wearing his clothes. Quickly wearing his tunic, he was just picking up his breeches when Cersei got off the bed and reached for him.

The quilt slid off her body, and she stood up completely naked. Her clean and shaved slit still appeared slimy from last night's activities. She had some hesitation in her eyes, but also a hint of seductiveness in the way she walked.

"I feel devastated, Joff." She approached Joffrey, who stood there in confusion since he didn't expect this much shamelessness from her. "This shouldn't have happened between us… but."

"Ah, Mother!"

She ignored his voice and rose on her toes to wrap one arm around his neck. She brought her face beside his ear and whispered. But just then, her other hand slid down his belly and grabbed his erect girth.

"But I understand… how big you have grown, my sweet Joffrey," she whispered into his ears. "I know you have your toys. But only your mother will ever truly love you. Remember that, my dear."

"Hmm…" Joffrey nodded, trying to ignore her hand that started stroking his cock. The heat of her naked body was arousing him despite his averted eyes.

"Such a good… big… King," she whispered. "Whenever you're tired, or want someone to talk to, you can always come to your mother… here."

Good Maiden! Did I go too far? No, no, this is Cersei. She probably thinks she can control me better with sex. Joffrey tried to make some sense. She's shameless and ambitious. Having me as her sex toy is like killing two birds with one stone.

"I… I understand, mother." He groaned and pulled his hips back so his shaft slid off of her grip.

"Very well, my King." She pecked on his cheek and stepped back before turning around to return to her bed. Certainly, she didn't fail to showcase her wide, mature curves and hips while walking.

I will have your head on a pike soon enough. Joffrey cursed his rotten luck and quickly pulled up the breeches before leaving the room. Seven hells, I'll have to keep the ruse going to protect Sansa and Margaery now.

After all, the Unsullied were almost on King's Landing's shores. The first campaign to the North was about to begin. Securing the home ground, King's Landing, was the highest priority.

####

"I don't understand you anymore, my nephew."

Joffrey smirked, sitting in his solar with the family's most hated Lannister before him. "None can, Uncle. You have to be more specific."

"The women, of course. You're bedding Sansa and Margaery at the same time. That can't be good for the realm. The Starks are a dying breed, and knowing Olenna, you ought to be careful, young Stag."

Joffrey chuckled and continued to read the book he was focused on. "I'm a man with a plan, Uncle. Yes, it involves some risks, but if I succeed, the realm shall prosper, and so will I."

"So you plan to keep both?" Tyrion asked.

"Three," Joffrey answered, leaving the man dumbfounded. "In any case, I called you here to discuss the finances. Much of the hidden coffers kept by Little Finger have been discovered. The brothels under his control will now be mine. But until we can find a better, more suitable Master of Coin, I need you to oversee this as well while I'm gone."

"Gone? To where?"

"The North." Joffrey looked out the window behind himself and estimated the time. "The ships must have arrived. Follow me, Uncle. We're going to the port."

Fumbling from his chair, Tyrion rushed behind Joffrey to keep up. They made quick strides out of the Red Keep and then arrived at the port on horseback. There, a major fleet was docking and unloading men armored in black leather, their helmets made of steel.

In one hand, they held their tall spears, and in the other, shields.

"Getting invaded wasn't in today's schedule," Tyrion exclaimed at the sight, almost frightened. There were so many of them, standing in neat phalanxes.

Joffrey chuckled and moved toward the big fat man that he recognized from a distance away. "Magister."

"Your Grace." The heavy-bodied Magister of Pentos bowed, being of nobility now after all. "You were in luck this time. They were hesitant to sell this many, but being a Magister has its own perks. Not five thousand, but I was able to get four thousand and eighty-one, and this is the scourge that gives you the authority over them."

Interesting. He observed the whip-like golden tool closely. As much as I wish to free them like Daenerys, I don't have enough confidence they would follow me freely. But perhaps a bait can be useful.

So, he waited for all the Unsullied to deboard the ship and stand together. The port had been guarded off by then to stop smallfolk from making too much noise. Men had already been sent to quell any rumors of an attack from rising.

But once the new personal eunuch army of the young lion was in place, he stood up on a crate and showed the scourge. After that, he began shouting in a heavily accented, but understandable Valyrian.

Thank you, Melisandre. You finally found some use for yourself.

"Dovaogēdyr! This scourge is meaningless to me." He shouted and threw the whip to his feet. "I am King Joffrey Baratheon, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I honor valor, loyalty, and strength above all. Yes, I purchased you from your master, for I need an army to quell the pesty rebels who wish to cause chaos.

"You are known to be the most courageous and fierce fighters. But such are mere words to me—prove it! Prove to me with your blades and shields, and earn your freedom. Fight beside me, my soldiers, and in seven years, all of you are free to leave—as free men. Live wherever you want, work however you want!"

Another reason Joffrey couldn't openly accept them as his slaves was that the Faith of the Seven, as well as the Old Gods, considered slavery an abomination. Openly having slaves would have meant angering the entirety of Westeros.

"You are not slaves—you are my soldiers! You serve me well in return for good food and shelter. At the end of your seventh year, all of you shall receive a monetary reward to settle down anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms." He announced and stepped down from the little stage. Carefully, he walked towards a phalanx.

"By the end of the night, choose a Commander for yourself; one who shall be your overall leader and my direct subordinate. Rest chose one Captain for every thousand, a Lieutenant for every five hundred, and a Leader for every fifty. It shall work as a strict hierarchy, and I shall meet with the Commander and the Captains regularly—Understood?!"

Thud! Thud!

The Unsullied tapped their spears on the stony floor in chorus, showing their agreement. It filled Joffrey's heart with pride and excitement as, finally, something good had happened.

"Uncle, please house them closest to the Red Keep, even inside if possible. Make sure they receive enough food supplies. Give them tools to sharpen their blades and as many horses as possible." Joffrey ordered his second-in-command. "I'll march northward in three days."

Tyrion gulped, looking at the Unsullied and then Joffrey. "North? Why?"

"Just a small excursion to the Stormlands."

He lied through his teeth. But it was necessary for all of King's Landing to think he was headed there.

####

That night, Joffrey arrived at his bedchambers content and excited. And with Margaery waiting for him there, he knew he was going to enjoy it. It was unknown if she was with baby, but just to be sure, he hoped to perform to the best of his ability the whole night.

However, before heading to bed, he sat with Margaery on the chairs and waited for the selected Commander of the Unsullied to report to him.

"I heard they are trained barbarically."

"That is true, Margaery. Perhaps calling it barbaric is an understatement. You should truly study about it, my queen. You will understand the great opportunity I have given them by freeing them under my command." Joffrey entertained her small talk since anything said to her was as good as said to Olenna.

Knock! Knock!

"Your Grace, the Unsullied is here!"

"Let him in."

The door opened, and a six-foot tall, average-looking Unsullied entered. His arm muscles showed pumping veins, and his general build seemed better than most others of his kind.

"You can remove your helmet and introduce yourself," Joffrey commanded.

Once again, average features with a distinct wound mark on the left side of his face that went from his eye to the nose. His hair was cut in the usual almost-bald fashion. "I am the chosen Commander, my name is Great Turd."

Margaery choked on the wine she was drinking. "What?"

Joffrey expected something bad, but not this bad. "As great as it is that you can speak some broken Common Tongue, I'm curious why you're named that."

"I was the best during my training years, my King. I was given the title of Great, but the Good Masters said I am still worth less than horse excrement."

"That is horrible," Margaery commented in her usual overly emotional manner.

But Joffrey sighed and stood up from his chair. He then unsheathed his sword resting on the table. "I know that name must hold honor for you. But as the personal commander of the King's army, I can't allow you to be called by that name. So, I shall grant you a new name matching a once great Knight of Westeros."

Seeing the King approaching, Great Turd knelt down on one knee. He had no weapons with him, but he held no fear either.

Tap!

Joffrey tapped the sword on his shoulders. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Ser Arthur Great, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Ought to win some loyalty with this. Joffrey thought so and stepped back, seeing Margery clapping giddily.

"Ser Arthur, when you leave my service, you may start a family with the last name 'Great'," He added, sweetening the deal. "I hope you will serve my side well. Now, you may leave and inform the rest that only my order is to be obeyed. If anyone else dares to order you, you may not kill them, but you can subjugate them and bring them to me—and I mean anyone."

Thud!

Ser Arthur kicked his foot on the ground in the absence of a spear and saluted before leaving through the door.

Now I hope Grandfather plays his part well. Ugh, that Bran the bastard might be watching everything. I can't do anything openly against the Starks. Joffrey gritted his teeth and locked the door of his bedchamber.

"Now that wine has coated our tongues sweet, shall we take the bed, my queen?" Joffrey looked at Margaery with hungry eyes. The summer green dress she was wearing had the usual charm of showing too much skin. Tight from the waist, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and a back that was as low as her hips.

Her hair was done loose as well, fluttering in the wind from the windows. The smile on her lips, the ever-seductive sign of a vixen.

"Oh, my King, I'm always yours," she responded with a melodic tone and threw herself back on the bed without removing her clothes. "Take me, my King."

Always knows what to say and when to say it. Joffrey recognized her cunningness easily. Just being submissive won't win you the race, you naive little swan.

Immediately, Joffrey discarded his clothes to his bare skin and crawled onto the soft, warm bed. The maiden waited for him in the middle.

He got on top of her first and showered her with a few warm kisses, winning her heart.

He gazed at her beautiful, rich brown locks that elevated her sparkling beauty. Those thin lips pulled him in as he spread them apart with his tongue and claimed the exotic aftertaste of the wine.

His hands gently slithered on her mischievous body to her shoulder, where he pulled off the strap of her dress. It went against what she was expecting. He was gentle like a lover, a husband cherishing his wife. Not a king claiming his right.

"Ah… You're amazing, my King." She moaned when Joffrey moistened his way down to her neck and started kissing her there. His hands kept working, pulling down the other shoulder strap, and then forcing the dress down entirely.

That exposed her perky, small globes with the cherries on top. Joffrey didn't fail to cherish them and gripped them hard with his palms while his mouth suckled them fiercely. The little shivers and throbs of her arched back made the moment more tantalizing, Joffrey's touch more arousing.

But Joffrey continued going down, pulling Margaery's dress below her waist and, finally, throwing it away with his nimble feet.

It was dim in the room, but he could still make out the perfect body of the coveted beauty underneath him. However, he knew he had to start immediately without wasting energy. So he once again pulled himself up on her body until they were face to face.

With his knees, he spread her legs apart and found the perfect spot between them. His throbbing manhood hungrily probed the entrance of her womanhood while their eyes remained locked. He kissed her and caressed her hair.

"Let's make this night memorable, Margaery." He suggested and positioned his cock, driving the swollen crown in. He weighed down on her body, aiming to breach the deepest spot. "Let's make this one count, my queen."

She moaned underneath that erotic position, her king preparing himself to plow in. "Ah, yessss~ Let's make this… oh… count!"

Joffrey smiled and embraced her neck tightly with both his arms, almost hugging her head. Then, with a single pumping thrust, he went all the way, deep to the hilt.

"Aaaaah! Joffrey!"

####

"Aaaah! Joffrey!" Sansa's mindless cry echoed in her bedchamber as Joffrey claimed her tightness with pride and right.

It was Margaery the night before, and it was Sansa's turn tonight. Having spilled his seeds inside the beautiful flower five times just a dozen hours ago, he felt utterly tired, but with Sansa, that tiredness seemed to fade away.

Her constant innocent moans and her naivety to believe everything from his lips was almost arousing. In the same position as Margaery, he plowed through the elegant core of the eldest Stark daughter.

Her eyes were tearful, her long and slender legs hugging Joffrey's sides. She loved it as much as he did. Clothes discarded, she was in the midst of accepting Joffrey's skin sticking to her, and his tongue coating her body.

"Show me that tongue," he ordered her.

Quickly, the young she-wolf opened her lips in 'o' shape and spread her pink tongue out. Joffrey captured her and dug into her lips. The twisting and tugging of their flesh was never-ending. He filled both her warm holes, her faintly red pubes with his manhood, and her mouth with his tongue.

Sansa Stark was his and only his. There was no doubt remaining.

"Ah, Joff…" She moaned at her incoming release. That ensued a heavier pounding as Joffrey planned his climax too. Leaving her lips, he nibbled on her pink buds and mercilessly speared into her wild depths.

Feeling every tight nook and cranny of her insides, the exhilarating sensation was heightened by her utter tightness. Being so ripe in age and Joffrey being the only man ever to touch her so sensually, her womanhood was seemingly shaped to satisfy him.

"Go ahead, Sansa," he said and plunged deep before stopping. His throbbing shaft oozed out uninterrupted sprays of white, his seeds spilling to her core and definitely reaching where they needed to.

Her own release came at the same time, squeezing out around Joffrey's impaling cock that continued to grow limp. It was merely round one of many, for he was sure that Sansa still had far more to offer than just her submissive moans and body.

But for now, he laid beside her and hugged her hot, naked body, face to face and staring into her eyes. "My Sansa, do you trust me?"

"More than I trust myself," she chirped back lovingly, and unexpectedly, her hand went down and fondled his flaccid cock, trying to wake it up once more. "I love everything about you."

What a beautiful second life. Joffrey internally rejoiced for his new fate.

In reply, he caressed her breasts. "Sansa, I'll be heading North tomorrow with my private army. I'm going to try to speak with Robb. If possible, bring Arya. The Boltens have taken over the North. Unless we plan everything carefully, I fear House Stark will… go extinct."

"No!" Sansa gasped.

Joffrey smiled and kissed her lips reassuringly. He patted her belly gently. "Well, you can make sure that never happens. Besides, I'm going to the North to end the war between us. But I can only hope he'll have the patience to listen to me."

"Don't go near Robb, Your Grace," Sansa worriedly advised. "He's known to be emotional. He may attack you on sight. Please be carefull… or perhaps I should join y—"

"No, you have a higher task here." Joffrey stopped her and pulled her closer, and then on top of himself so her legs were spread around his waist. Her damp folds were shamelessly on his shaft. "You are to stay healthy and ensure the proof of our love grows healthy."

Sansa felt her eyes well up at such a possibility, promoting her to touch her belly. "I really can, Your Grace?"

He chuckled and raised her a little to start pushing his half-erect cock inside. "I'm the king, Sansa. I can do anything… especially for my first love."

"Oh, Joffrey!" She lost herself in the passion of romance and threw herself down on his sizable length. Taking all of him in with a sweeping fall, she leaned down, bit his lips, and licked all over his face. "I love you everywhere… your everything… I'm forever yours!"

As you should.

Joffrey made love to her in rhythms of savagery and romance. The right amount of pain and the right amount of warmth was what kept Sansa on her toes, and on the verge of her release. Her tall stature, however, was far more alluring as she performed various positions.

He also took pride in possessing such a fine woman, bending her to his will and placing his seed inside the key to the North. With the military campaign a day away, he could only hope his actions would reap him something.

Otherwise, he had to sadly consider that he was the problem, not her or Margaery.

Work, just work this time.

He groaned while releasing for the nth time inside Sansa. No longer with as much fervor, she simply smiled and let him turn her tightness red.

She didn't know what she exactly felt. But it felt like being the most blessed woman in the world. To be embraced so passionately by her betrothed, her King.

"Aaaah…" She came again, sullying the sheets more than they were already.

The night had almost passed by, but Joffrey never stopped in his sense of desperation. It was the need of the hour that both Margaery and Sansa were with child.

I hope it works this time.

####

A campaign to inspect the Stormlands as the last living Baratheon.

Such was the excuse that Joffrey gave to everyone while preparing to head out of King's Landing. As expected, other than Cersei's constant cries of worry, the rest were uncaring or agreeing with his decision.

As the eldest of the last of Baratheon, if he could pull in the loyalty of the Stormlands, he knew he'd have a massive support base standing exclusively for him.

However, when the time came to turn right towards Storm's End, Joffrey's entourage changed directions towards the North, taking Kingsroad. Passing by Harrenhal and then the Trident, he marveled at their speed.

The Unsullied were absolute beasts when it came to teamwork. They were the quickest to set up tents, great at setting up security walls around him, and best at keeping him safe. Ser Arthur was always beside him as a result.

Eventually, on an evening, they arrived at The Twins, the famed castles built over a river crossing. It appeared to be surrounded by drunk soldiers, some even unconscious on the ground. No doubt, it was a celebration feast going on inside.

"Woof!"

A raging wolf's bark resounded from one of the sealed cages.

That must be Robb's pet.

"Arthur, take positions. I don't trust the Freys one bit. Surround the castle and infiltrate key positions. Be prepared to react in an instant—stay hidden," Joffrey ordered and gazed at the main entrance. "I'll go in as a King should."

And so, Joffrey immediately walked towards the main entrance of the castle and gained entrance. It wasn't that hard to recognize King Joffrey with his features alone. But combined with threats, most believed him.

Thereafter, he gained entry to the main hall, where the feast was ongoing. It was closed shut from the inside, so only after knocking a few times did a Frey guard respond.

Closed from inside? Am I late?

Bam!

Ser Arthur kicked the door open once the Frey solder peeked out. Joffrey walked inside with pride, the musicians playing the Rains of Castamere already. Indeed, he was barely on time as he noticed the shocked faces of Catelyn and Robb Stark.

"Am I late to the feast?" He proudly questioned, ignoring the sneering expressions of the Starks. For them, he was the bane of everything, after all.

"Nay, nay, Your Grace." Old Walder Frey stood up with the help of two girls. "My apologies for not knowing you were visiting. What a fateful day this is to have your blessing on the day of my daughter's wedding."

So much hatred. Despite his best attempts, his gaze remained focused on Catelyn Stark, who glared at him with a knife gripped in her hands. Don't jump on me. I won't save you otherwise.

"What a day! Just when I was looking for Robb Stark, I found him here," Joffrey replied and walked towards the heightened platform where Walder was eating. "But that can wait."

"Please." Walder acted like the usual weak underling nobles, trying to win favors. He presented a seat right beside his own. "Feast with me, Your Grace."

Joffrey nodded and sat down. "Let's continue."

"Yes, yes," Walder nodded, gesturing to the musicians above to continue playing music. It was even more unsettling now with a half Lannister in the same room. Catelyn felt like running away, but seeing Joffrey so close, she felt like it was the best opportunity to kill him and claim revenge.

The wait continued, and Joffrey found some meat on his plate that he refused to eat. He waited for the Rains of Castamere to end and the main part to begin. He kept his short sword and dagger loose, to be unsheathed at a moment's notice. Ser Arthur also stood behind him on guard, his hand on the hilt, for he could smell something amiss.

"Your Grace," Walder suddenly voiced and stood up. The music stopped. "Ah, I suppose we have two Kings under the same roof."

Catelyn was already on her feet, sensing something wrong since before he arrived. Robb also rose to his feet, glaring at Joffrey with hate.

"I feel I'd been remiss in my duties. I've given you meat and wine and music…"

Here it comes. Give me your blessing, Seven, if you're behind all this.

"...But, I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King… the Northern King has married, and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift."

"ROBB!" Catelyn cried in panic.

Within a moment, chaos ensued all across as activity started at every corner. Before one could even realize, a man took out a knife and stabbed the pregnant belly of Robb's wife, the Queen of the North.

Woosh!

Robb didn't get a chance to react before the arrow came flying from the upper floors and struck him on the back, the chest, and the neck, throwing him down. The next volley of arrows hit the remaining Stark loyalists.

Bam!

"What in the Seven's name is going on here?!" Joffrey bellowed at that instant, his shortsword out in his grip. "Dovaogēdyr! Vīlībagon se ossēnagon!"

As soon as his roaring command echoed, spears came flying out of nowhere and struck the Frey and Bolton men indiscriminately, some even hitting the last of the living Starks.

"Protect Robb Stark and Catelyn!" Joffrey commanded and looked to his side at Walder. "You fucking insect! In the name of King's justice, die!"

"Yo—"

Joffrey dared not let the man speak and stabbed his sword straight through Walder's head, ripping it entirely from his torso and throwing it into the chaotic hall. It landed right beside a frightened and mind-numbed Catelyn.

Clash!

Joffrey still had to battle his way down as a few guards were nearby. But Ser Arthur assisted him masterfully and helped him go down without hindrance. He could see Robb was already dead since an arrow had punctured his neck.

"Lady Catelyn!" Joffrey rushed to the only remaining Stark there. "You must run! Run for the legacy of your family. I will hold them here!"

Seven hell, I'm so evil at times. Joffrey couldn't help but admire his acting skills.

Devastated at her son's death, Catelyn still stood there like a husk of a dead tree, lifeless and emotionless.

Pa!

Joffrey slapped the woman on her face. "Wake up! Sansa is still alive! Arya is still alive! The Starks are not over yet—run away, Lady Catelyn!"

"Why?!" Catelyn suddenly cried at him, enraged and confused at the same time. Yes, her son was dead, but why was their greatest foe helping her?

Joffrey scoffed and shielded her from the Frey men. "Because I promised Sansa that I would end this foolish war and bring peace… She… Sansa is with my child, Lady Catelyn…!"

Clank!

"Aaaargh! Fuck!" Joffrey groaned and cursed just as an arrow came and struck him on his shoulder. This was absolutely not part of the plan. "End this quickly! Kill them all!"

"Not so soon! Haaaa!"

Roose Bolton was still alive and slashed at Joffrey. But he parried and shielded Catelyn behind himself, even with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.

Don't you fucking stab me on my back. He prayed to the Seven that Catelyn wouldn't backstab him now.

Clank!

"Get back, Lady Catelyn… this damn Bolton. My spymaster had told me… your son Rickon is their captive!"

"Haaaa… you're no better!" Roose vented out his anger as the plan got derailed. "Yo—"

Thud!

Ser Arthur came right then and stabbed his spear through Roose's face, creating a wide, see-through hole. Immediate death graced the last perpetrator, but it wasn't enough.

Joffrey groaned at his injured shoulder and looked at Catelyn behind himself. She was still not entirely out of her daze, but she looked somewhat better after learning about her living family and son.

"Lady Catelyn, follow me out," he requested. "Dovaogēdyr! Kill every single Frey, man or woman, child or old—this is the price of betrayal. This is the King's justice. Let the Rains of Castamere ring through another house. Fall of the Freys, may the realm remember this!"

Immediately, Ser Arthur acted on orders. And with that, a bloodbath ensued. Not only were the Freys killed, but the main keep, leaving the bridge, was torched to ashes for the most part.

All in the span of a single night, a new spine-chilling song was written.

But for Joffrey, who 'protected' Catelyn, a different fate awaited, one he didn't expect. As soon as he walked out of the castle, he felt his body calming down, and the true pain of the wound seeped through.

"L-Lady Ca…" He couldn't even call out her name before he fell towards the Stark matriarch. But she caught onto him, albeit without realizing it.

What happened after that, Joffrey had no clue.

####

"Hmm?" It was still the middle of the night, but he found himself inside a tent from the look of the ceiling. He could feel a warm quilt on his half-naked body, with his wound now bandaged. It still hurt, but he could manage.

Clank!

It was the clinking of metal that woke him up. It felt too close to his ears. Thankfully, there was plenty of light to look around, and so he did after sitting up on the bedding—left speechless.

"Lady Catelyn?!" He jumped to his feet.

There was the Stark matriarch on her knees, both her hands chained down, her body completely nude except for a wooly cloak on her shoulders. She was shivering, her eyes wide open in rage, the red fiery hair sporadically hugging the sides of her face while her brows furrowed in anger.

"What did they do to you?!" he questioned, albeit admiring the heavenly view. Her mature curves, the long slender legs, the large bust, and the slit adorned with a faint crimson bush were a sight to behold.

"T-They…" Lady Catelyn could feel his eyes gazing at her womanhood. She didn't want to, but she had to explain her situation. "They were under the impression I'm an enemy… Release me this instant!"

"Of course!" Joffrey frantically looked around for the keys, but he couldn't help but steal a few gazes at the Stark matriarch. Who knew she had such wonderful fleshy curves underneath.

Though he could finally acknowledge something at last. An age-old question that had troubled him after his experience with women.

Aye, I'm into redheads.

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