Bab 57: Chapter 54 - The Poison, The Plan, The Promise IV
There was a moment of long silence after that. Tywin Lannister looked towards the window on the side as a faint smile emerged on his lips. But he quickly removed it and looked at Joffrey with pride that threatened to burst from his chest.
"What do you plan to do with the Reach? Margaery could have been the key to securing it under your command," Tywin asked. A man who usually gave orders had a few too many questions that day.
Joffrey scoffed and landed another lion emblem on Highgarden. But then he grabbed another emblem, one marked with a cluster of grapes. "With the Tyrells? I'm afraid we'd have lost King's Landing itself. Tyrells held too much ambition, and other than trying to kill me, that smirking whore tried to seduce Tommen while I was away."
Tywin frowned for a short moment, unaware that such a thing had occurred. But he truly smiled when he saw the sigil of grapes. If what he felt was pride before, now it was admiration. Finally, a Lannister who could think ten steps ahead.
"House Redwyne?" Asked Tywin.
"They are the strongest in the Reach for now. I've always sought to diminish Tyrell's sway, so I appointed Lord Paxter as my Master of Ships. Now, he shall be Lord Paramount of the Mander," Joffrey revealed and answered the next question Tywin was going to ask. "As for Highgarden, what better revenge could there be than to have Tommen inherit it? Lord Paxter has most obligingly consented."
"Hah…" Tywin Lannister, the cold, old lion, sighed and relaxed back in his seat. In silence, he stared at his grandson's face. "Ingenious! With the sacrifice of the Mountain, Dorne has no grounds to remain hostile, no matter the condition Oberyn is in. That leaves only the Iron Islands."
Joffrey's lips curved into a cruel smile. "It seems you've forgotten, Grandfather, who it was that I so graciously dragged from the North. Theon Greyjoy remains in my custody, and my most loyal servants are ensuring his 'education' is thorough. Soon enough, he'll be freed—a fire that shall spread from within."
Tywin couldn't remember when was the last time he was this speechless at anything. Somehow, his grandson had layers upon layers of plots that simply couldn't be noticed if not seen from a bird's eye. And he had no doubt there was a lot more than what his grandson was willing to tell him.
"So you'll have the entire Seven Kingdoms in your grasp."
Joffrey didn't smile at that, instead frowned. "But not enough to satisfy me."
One of the old lion's brows arose in curiosity. "The reason?"
"The crown is poor," Joffrey replied and pointed at the map on the table. He focused eastwards, where only two Essos cities were marked. "I want to take Tyrosh and Lys as the Crown's property."
Skrrr!
Tywin stood up from his chair and looked at the table with more focus. The more he thought, the more sense it made. With the Redwyne fleet, Lannister Fleet, and the under-construction Crown's Feet, taking the two cities wouldn't be an issue.
"There will be local opposition from Free Cities."
Joffrey scoffed and also stood up. "It's the opposite. Thanks to a certain someone's help, I have local support instead. Would you like to hear the plan?"
Of course, you would, you greedy old bastard. The Lannister mines are as barren as your heart. This is the best chance to earn gold.
"As long as House Lannister can play a role."
Joffrey welcomed that. "There's enough meat for everyone, Grandfather."
"I'm all ears."
"So…"
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Joffrey explained his plans in detail to the old lion. Hours passed, and by the time evening came, Tywin was more impressed than he was proud of himself. So many times he professed his displeasure that Joffrey couldn't be the heir to the House Lannister.
Eventually, Tywin left to prepare to help his grandson destroy House Tyrell to the last member. Finally, Tywin felt excitement in old bones again. Just imagining the songs that would be sung to remember the destruction of House Tyrell made him proud.
But Joffrey held no such petty desires. Sure, it was exciting, but nothing felt joyous when he knew the danger of the Others was creeping closer from the North. And to truly deal with that danger, he needed three big lizards that could spew fire.
So yet again, he sat down and began writing a letter to his self-proclaimed best friend, Daenerys Targaryen. This one was long, filled with his achievements, his admiration, and plenty of quips.
Of course, it felt humiliating. To act so unashamedly, and cowardly towards the so-called Mother of Dragons. But again, not dying at the hands of the Others was a higher priority.
Soon enough, night fell and most of the Red Keep dwellers returned to their bedchambers after dinner. Joffrey skipped eating, scared of vomiting it out for he had something planned for the night that knotted his guts.
Holding a small, leather bag, he left his solar and made his way through the dark corridors of the castle. Each step felt repulsive, but he felt he had to do it.
Finally, he stopped in front of a decorated and carved door. "Is she inside?"
The lone Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, nodded. "She is."
Joffrey made a sullen face, eyes down as he stepped forward to push open the door. "Good night, Uncle Jaime."
"Joff… Your Grace," Jaime suddenly grabbed him by his shoulder. "You don't have to do this."
Joffrey stood there frozen but didn't look back. Willingly, he made his body shiver, as if afraid. Then, he pushed Jaime's hand away and walked into the bedchamber. He shut it back quickly after but didn't fully lock it with the latch.
"Umm hmm… mmm…"
Humming? He heard a feminine, happy singing voice from inside. Of course, she's celebrating. The smirking whore is dead, after all.
"Mother?" He called for her, sounding as innocent as he could. Right then he noticed Cersei lying sideways on the bed, a goblet of wine in her hand, her body only covered with a thin, red gown that was almost see-through.
"Joff?!" Cersei perked up and gleamed at the sight of her son walking towards her. "Oh, my sweetling. What happened? Couldn't sleep?"
Ugh… How old does she think I am? Just this ones… One last time.
He walked closer and closer to her bed, watching her get up. She didn't look tipsy, meaning she wasn't drunk. Even better, he thought. "Mother, you said I can ask you for anything."
Cersei smiled brightly, her hair loose, uncaring about her attire. She thanked her luck that she chose to wear this gown. She tip-toed towards him and softly caressed the side of his face. "How can I ever forget, my golden lion? I'm the one who will always go to any lengths for you… anything you could ever need."
Joffrey avoided looking into her eyes, revealing a hint of hesitation. But damned be his cock, the sight of her revealing cleavage between those voluptuous breasts made him hard. "I-I can't go out as the city is in lockdown, so is the Red Keep and…"
"Oh, my sweetling." Cersei tried to coddle him and stepped closer to him until her breasts barely pressed against his lower chest. Her green eyes, slightly intoxicated, looked up and into his eyes. "Where were you planning to go?"
"T-To… Chataya's brothel."
Cersei felt confused. "Then… How can I help, dear?"
"I just… You said anything so…" Joffrey scoffed internally before replying. "I… I want to fuck a whore!"
"What?!" Cersei froze, shocked and appalled, eyes horrified. A very long moment of silence persisted between them.
But when she noticed Joffrey stepping back, she smiled and changed into a sultry vixen. Her hand quickly reached for his chest, palm spread, and felt his muscles. From there, she caressed down until she felt his hardened manhood under her touch.
"I-I'm sorry, Mother. I shouldn't ha—" Joffrey still tried to step back, but Cersei followed his steps and maintained the touch.
"Can you afford me? I can be very… expensive," The tone of her voice turned playfully sultry.
"What? You?!" Joffrey looked up at her face, shock and excitement written over his own. A whore indeed.
"Of course, my darling. You can't go out… But you still have me. As I said, anything, for my Joff."
Quickly, he fidgeted into the leather pouch he had brought and took out a silk pouch of gold. He shook it to make it clank. "I-I was prepared."
At that moment, Cersei realized her son was truly serious, and this was her chance to make him her own. No, she felt no shame, but rather triumph. At last, she had her son, the King, under her thumb. And all it took was access to her cunt.
"Ummm…" She moaned seductively, stepped backward, and let herself fall down on the bed, her breasts jiggling wildly. Then she raised her knees and parted them, herself pulling up the thin gown to give him a better look of her pale, somewhat aged, but still heavenly soft, and refined thighs.
"Then… have your way, my King," she invited.
But Joffrey didn't even look at her small-clothe-covered cunt. Instead, he fiddled in his leather pouch and took something out.
"Moth—I mean, Cersei, can I put this on you?" he asked, making puppy eyes. "Fucking you will be so much amazing with this."
Cersei's eyes narrowed with a tinge of anger and shame. For a woman who liked to be in control, this was too much.
"I-Is that a collar, my King?"
"And a leash, Mothe—Cersei."
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