Bab 34: Chapter 32 - Marriage Matters & Taming Begins III
Joffrey took the goblet but wondered if he should drink it. Let's not take risks.
Joffrey placed the cup on the side and relaxed in the seat to catch his breath. "I wanted to see the famed Red Viper myself."
"I think you saw plenty," Oberyn muttered and sat down at the edge of the bed, drinking sumptuously. "So, let me ask again. What compelled the King to leave the high walls of the Red Keep and entertain a lowly man from down south?"
"Lowly?" Joffrey scoffed. "Well, I came to see if your blood still boils."
Oberyn stopped drinking. His eyes turned sharp like a viper. "Meaning?"
"A storm is brewing, one with a lot of dust. Opportunities are going to appear to right the wrongs," Joffrey replied and stood up, stretching his neck. He grabbed Marei's dress from the floor and walked over to hand it to her since the woman finally woke up.
Oberyn stared at Joffrey the entire time, smiling proudly. "You remind me of your grandfather."
"I'm afraid that's disrespectful to my name, Prince Oberyn. I am no child killer, who orders his men to plunder highborn women," Joffrey replied, standing not too far from the southern man. "I don't use a rebellion as an excuse to commit the unspeakable."
Oberyn's fist visibly clenched tight, and the goblet in his claw creaked. Joffrey knew very well what Dorne wanted. He also knew that he couldn't give them everything they desired, but he at least hoped to start somewhere.
I don't know if this will be enough to pull you away from that mother of dragons. Joffrey merely hoped that he was on the right path.
"It does," Oberyn responded finally. "My blood does boil. He violated my sister, they murdered her… they murdered her children."
"And so much more," Joffrey replied, walking over to one of the windows to look outside. "There was an inn not far from here. The owner had a daughter, who had the bad luck of serving the Mountain and his men as the guests. The little girl served them drinks while the men made lewd comments. Her father said, 'My daughter is not some tavern harlot!' and to that, Gregor Clegane grabbed the girl, pinned her against the table, and said, 'She is now.' He tossed a silver at the father. In the end, Clegane demanded the silver back because 'she wasn't worth a whole silver'. Oh, he also killed her brother."
Joffrey looked back, finding everyone other than Oberyn unsettled by the story. "That's just one of the dozens, or perhaps hundreds of such stories."
"Your words are meaningless if you think they wi—"
Joffrey interrupted the man. "There will be a tourney held before my wedding feast. I have named a champion to represent me for the melee… a man tall as a mountain."
Oberyn's eyes gleamed with understanding. He stood up suddenly. "Your grandfather won't allow you."
"Last time I heard, the King's name was Joffrey fucking Baratheon!" Joffrey raised his voice, his distaste for being told what he could and could not do already at an all-time high. "But remember, you are not allowed to fight unless you wear full-bodied armor. You cannot fight a brute carelessly—Rhaegar made that mistake against the whoremonger King."
Oberyn frowned, the whoremonger being Joffrey's father himself. But he didn't point that out. "What's in this for you?"
"If you might have noticed, I'm trying to bring peace to the realm. The North has been pacified. The Stormlands has knelt to me, while the Reach is within my grasp. I demand nothing but a calm relationship between the crown and Dorne—I shall appoint you as the Master of Laws."
That will free up Ser Arthur to expand the Golden Legion. Joffrey waited for the man to reply to his offer.
Oberyn smiled and glanced at his paramour. Before heading to King's Landing, he hadn't expected this sort of surprise. "But that still leaves the main culprit free."
Joffrey breathed deeply, knowing it was dangerous to take the man's name. "In due time, all the wrongs shall be rectified, Prince Oberyn. Of course, to strengthen our alliance, my beautiful sister, Marcella, will wed Trystane Martell."
Oberyn wondered if Joffrey had such authority, but he didn't speak about that. All the rumors he had heard about King Joffrey being a quarreling little evil brat had been proven wrong. This was no brat but the making of a second Tywin Lannister, and this was the King.
"Very well." Oberyn agreed at last. "Let us speak again after the tourney."
"Then, I will leave you to it." Joffrey turned around to leave, finding Marei following him downstairs since the King hadn't paid yet. Yes, even he had to pay for quality whores.
In the end, Joffrey tossed her a gold dragon. It was already expensive, since gold was the price for a virgin whore's maidenhead.
"Your Grace."
Just then, Chataya appeared from one of the backrooms, dressed in a silky, sleeveless draping gown. Her graceful movements were like those of a panther, and every gliding step seductively shaped her hips.
"I was just looking for you, Chataya." Joffrey acknowledged the tall, elegant woman. He didn't consider her a beauty in a traditional sense, but she was quite attractive and her black skin made her exotic in the land of Westeros.
She's even taller than me. I should find time to bed her someday. Joffrey pondered.
"Then let me bring you to a private chamber, Your Grace." Her voice smooth, resonant with her accent. Chataya turned around and guided Joffrey.
Though the young King was more focused on her shaking hips, they were wide and fleshy, making his palms itch to experience just one touch. But he had no more desire for fucking for now. "How did it go with the Tully?"
"Childish," Chataya responded, opening a door and leading Joffrey into a small room, but very ambient and decorated. There was just one single bed in the corner and a study table with chairs. "He already professed his love to me."
"Pff…" Joffrey held back his chuckle. "It seems I must find an opportunity to experience the finest this establishment has to offer, Chataya."
"You are always welcome, Your Grace." She smiled back and gestured for him to sit while she took the chair right beside Joffrey, instead of the other side of the table. "You met my other esteemed guest?"
"That was… a personal matter. It went well. But I invited you here to discuss business. While it is wonderful that the brothel establishments are making sixty thousand gold a month, it's nowhere near the peak. With peace now prevalent, I believe it's time for expansion." Joffrey got straight to the business, ignoring the flowery, spicy scent of the older woman.
Chataya nodded firmly. She already knew this day was going to come someday. Her partnership with the King was a strange one. While she was free to expand and build new brothels, the King only paid her for buying new whores from her for his increasing number of establishments. In each of those establishments, a small amount of profit earned from those whores came to her.
Joffrey was still the one making more money since he had the legal and hegemonic authority.
"What do you propose, Your Grace? I have already begun to scout locations at Lannisport, Oldtown, Sunspear, Gulltown, White Harbor, and a few others. More than three hundred locations have been scouted." Chataya stood up and brought out a small booklet from a locked cupboard. It seemed the room was her personal space. "But there aren't enough women to fill these places."
Joffrey hummed and looked at the booklet for the location details. "They don't have to be Westerosi. I have spoken to some of the adventurous men, including Uncle Tyrion. There are plenty of beautiful women in Essos—I've heard the name of Lanna, a famous, young, golden-haired whore. And let's not forget Lys the Lovely—that Free City is known for its finest whores with the blood of Valyria. Silver-haired, purple-eyed—I'm sure they'll be crowd favorites in our establishments. Who wouldn't want to bed a look-alike of the Targaryens of old?"
Chataya nodded at his assessment, but there was still one issue. "They are costly, Your Grace. Lanna of Braavos alone charges three times the rest. Lys, may not be very keen on selling too many of their girls either."
"Ah…" Joffrey sighed and relaxed in his chair.
"But I will try my best to connect with my friends in Essos—There are plenty of beautiful women there."
Joffrey still seemed dejected. "That is wonderful, but I wanted to have those silver-haired whores as our finest assets—we're trying to establish ourselves as a more premium service, Chataya… It seems there is no other choice left then. For now, just get a few silver-haired ones to fill King's Landing's brothels. The rest… I'll make the arrangements."
"That can be managed, Your Grace."
Joffrey reckoned it was around evening already, so he got up to leave. "Oh, one more thing. I have appointed Lord Redwyne of Arbor as the new Master of Ships. I will try to get a wholesale deal for the wine from him, for all our brothels."
Chataya's thin brow reacted immediately. "Will that deal extend to me?"
"Though me, yes," Joffrey replied, not ready to reveal his cards just yet. "I shall see you later then."
With that, Joffrey walked out of the fine establishment, finding his Kingsguard still standing there. However, he saw another contingent of soldiers coming his way from a distance.
"Uncle?" Joffrey noted. It was Tyrion, along with Bronn and Podrick, the squire.
"Your Grace. What are you doing here?" Tyrion frowned, worried as Oberyn was staying there. "We came here to greet our guests from Dorne."
Joffrey shrugged and started walking. "No need, I've already met him. He's busy now with… whatever number of women and men he likes. Let's head back to the Red Keep, I'm famished."
Tyrion looked at the brothel for a moment and then followed Joffrey quickly, walking beside him. "Did he say anything?"
"Nothing at all. By the way…" Joffrey glanced at Podrick, who was walking behind Tyrion. "Podrick, as your King, I demand to know what you did to those whores. They take money even from me, but you got it for free?"
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