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GOT: The Golden Lion

None can battle against the gods; only accept all they may throw at you. Joffrey, a dying man a moment ago, now enlightened, watching the Battle of Blackwater Bay right before his eyes; a battle that had already been won, a battle that had already passed a year ago. But no more would he cower, for the knowledge he possesses gives him the tools to play the game like never before—Alliances, sacrifices, blood, betrayals, magic, love, lust, and a whole lot of sex awaits. But a ticking countdown Joffrey silently hears, foretelling the slow march of The Others to the land of the living with each passing moment. A Series by MrPlotThickens Aided by Ms.Squirtle

MrPlotThickens · Book&Literature
Not enough ratings
45 Chs

Chapter 24 - King Joffrey, The Schemer III

"Umm… Ungh…"

Joffrey grabbed the ancient red priestess' crimson hair, combing his finger deep, and then shoved her face on his aching cock back and forth, almost on the edge of his release. She gagged and made gulping noises of wet, sticky spit mixed with his pre-cum. 

Her hair was a mess after sucking her Chosen One's cock for almost an hour, she felt a loss of breath. Her makeup was ruined, but she remained unbothered and didn't stop. For her, to please her Chosen One was to please her beloved Lord of Light.

"Ghk! Ghk!" 

Joffrey went wild with her, seeing no use to this woman than being his cock pleaser. Of course, he knew she understood magic, but he felt her mouth was more useful at the moment. 

"T-Take it!" Joffrey groaned and finally edged himself to a release, spilling out with warm jolts of his pumping cream. He heard the gulping sounds right away. Despite her ruined state, Melisandre used her tongue to lap up all of Joffrey's release and swallow it down her throat. 

Breathing heavily, Joffrey let her suck him clean as he let go of her hair, and truly relaxed back in his chair. He talked with her unashamedly, as if he didn't just fuck her face to ruin. "Melisandre, is there any magic that can alert me of poison?"

"Umm…" Melisandre was still licking his calming cock, her hand clenching the base of his shaft. "Po-oh-poison in your body?"

"No, before it enters my body."

Melisandre thought about it deeply. But while doing that, she helped Joffrey tie up his breeches while seated and then got out from under his table. But instead of moving away, she sat down sideways on Joffrey's masculine lap, feeling his cock twitch under her thin dress, right at the valley between her lower cheeks.

Joffrey didn't mind it. In fact, he had asked her to do this before. He just liked the sensation of her warm, supple, wide rear pressed against his cock. In all honesty, he wanted to taste her cunt, but anytime he looked at the necklace, he'd feel his cock turning flaccid. 

"You desire prevention, not the cure?"

"No, I just want to know if there is poison in my drink without having to drink it," Joffrey clarified. "Can that be done?"

Joffrey, taking his usual liberty, began caressing Melisandre's magnificent, soft breasts over her dress. Fondling them to his amusement while he waited for her to answer. Did she construct this young body to be this beautiful?

"There is a way," Melisandre chirped abruptly, completely unbothered by her cherished Azor Ahai's perverted needs. "I shall craft for you a small bird, one to nestle in your pocket. Its delicate form shall become attuned to the touch of poisons, and with but a sip of your drink, the bird shall sacrifice itself to reveal any poison."

"Excellent," Joffrey exclaimed, and with one last squeeze on her milky mounds, he made her stand up. "I shall see you at the dinner feast then. I'll need that bird before marriage."

Melisandre bowed her head a little, a rare smile retained on her lips. "The Lord of Light speaks in many ways, Your Grace. He has spoken to me—you tread the righteous path."

Joffrey felt a little relief hearing that. Knowing how fanatic Melisandre was, he knew she'd never lie about her god. "That's wonderful to hear."

She nodded and quickly left after that. 

Joffrey, too, finally began working seriously, though he knew a new headache was awaiting him—his mother.

####

As evening approached, the throne room was transformed into an opulent dining hall. Long tables and chairs were added, and candles, decorations, and a candle chandelier were added to increase the grandeur. 

The guests included the royal family, the Small Council, a few lords and ladies of the Crownlands, and even a few from the Stormlands who had just arrived. The king's table was set before the Iron Throne, but Joffrey has yet to arrive. 

"This table is for the royal family and honored guests, not the king's playthings," Cersei sneered from her seat, located just beside the center seat of the King. 

Sansa shrank her neck, in her arms the little Joanna. Despite Joffrey's support and her improved mental fortitude, she couldn't overcome her fear of the Queen Mother. Without even replying, she stepped back.

"She's a noblewoman too," Arya barked right then, furious at the disrespect. 

"Noblewomen don't sire bastards," Cersei replied with a scoff. 

Arya clenched her fist, holding herself back from punching the smug look off of Cersei. "She's the eldest of House Stark. Are you sur—"

The short but very energetic Arya swallowed back her words as she noticed Joffrey arrive from behind the Iron Throne through the King's entryway. 

"Mother." Joffrey approached his seat, his expression blank. "I wish to have a moment with Joanna. Would you mind moving your seat?"

Cersei froze, seemingly losing all the color from her face. She stared at her son with a pained, and somewhat scared expression. "Y-Your Grace, but I'm y—"

"Just for today, Mother," Joffrey insisted. 

Feeling ashamed, Cersei eventually stood up and walked to Joffrey's other side. Sadly, Tyrion was already seated there, so she had to take the seat even beyond Tyrion. Meanwhile, Sansa got to sit right beside Joffrey, while Arya sat beside her. 

"Are you well, Sansa?" Joffrey asked her, gazing at her flushed face. She was very much in love with him, and it was so noticeable even a toddler could tell. 

Sansa nodded softly, "Everything has been well, Your Grace. Ser Clegane protected me and Arya, and Lord Tyrion has shown us kindness beyond measure." 

Clegane needs a reward for his work. Joffrey remembered the man he used to call the dog. Now, he just wanted his loyalty.

"Forgive me for being unable to reach you in time for the childbirth," Joffrey said, secretly placing his palm on her lap. Although the regal gown she wore was heavy and thick, he felt the softness of her thighs. It was more than what he remembered. 

Sansa blushed crimson-like at his touch, and she quickly hid his hand by lowering Joanna in her arms, blocking the view of her lap. "No, Your Grace. I must thank you for helping Mother regain the North. I read the letter—I am indebted to you for what you have done. You took revenge and destroyed the Freys and the Boltons and even funded rebuilding Winterfell… The North will never forget your kindness."

Well, Catelyn did earn it through sweat and tears. 

Joffrey smiled warmly, trying to maintain his perfect husband, lover, prince, or kingly persona in her eyes. Besides, she was the mother of his daughter now and deserved at least his neutral kindness.

He clenched her lap, reaching for the inner side of her thighs. It was impossible to do anything in her heavy dress, but he still relished every little flinch and blush she made. "She's beautiful."

Sansa nodded, looking at her daughter's sleeping face fondly. "Will you be… joining me tonight, Your Grace?"

Oh, I can't wait to taste you again. Joffrey thought to himself, keeping a serious face. But not until my next plan is in motion. 

"I'm afraid I can't. Do you rest alone?" He asked. 

With a hint of disappointment, Sansa shook her head and gestured to her sister. "Arya stays with me in my bedchamber. If that's a pro—"

"No, Sansa." Joffrey clenched his palm on her soft thigh flesh. "You can share it with her all you like. Actually, I insist. She's a fierce one, isn't she? She'll look out for you and our little Joanna."

Sansa smiled widely hearing that, her pearl-white teeth in view. She felt extremely content at that moment. Hearing Joffrey call their daughter 'our' gave her the reassurance that Joanna wouldn't grow up without a father.

"You're not the Joffrey I remember," Arya suddenly yapped from Sansa's other side. 

"Arya! Use proper speech," Sansa quickly scolded her sister.

Joffrey just chuckled, measuring her form. She had grown quite well into her ripe age, but her stature had remained short. He doubted she'd even reach his neck, but that didn't matter when she had a sword. 

Her body was light and very flexible. He could see himself eventually bending her to his will. Going slow with her should be the best choice. 

"You're not the Arya I know either," Joffrey replied. "You have grown into a lady quite well."

"I'm no lady," Arya barked.

Joffrey raised his brows, "What? If not a lady, then… perhaps are you a lady with a co—"

"No!" Arya exclaimed. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Pfft…" Sansa giggled between them, her heart at peace, already forgetting the mistreatment from Cersei. 

Just like that, the dinner started, chatter and clanking of spoons echoing in the hall. A few musicians further elevated the evening with their warm tunes.

Joffrey talked with Tyrion about plenty of things related to the realm while ignoring Cersei's face, eyes full of fury. He instead focused on Sansa and further teased Arya. He knew what kind of person she was, so he took a less regal, noble attitude with her. 

Eventually, the center tables were removed, leading to a dance. The lords, ladies, knights, and their women took to the floor. Even Joffrey stood up later, taking Sansa first, then Arya with a little forceful persuasion. 

After that, he took Olenna, and finally ended it with Cersei. However, the whole time he kept an unsavory, serious, unhappy expression on his face. After all, he noticed Jaime looking at them from the side. 

Let the seed of doubt sow.

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