Capítulo 47: Chapter 44 - The Snake, The Dog, The Mountain I
The distant bells of the Sept of Baelor echoed across the city. The royal wedding was scheduled that day and all were excited be it the nobles or the smallfolk. The streets leading to the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep were decorated with flowers. Gold Cloaks roamed the streets with rugged looks since alcohol was banned for the day for them.
Yet the man who should have been the most excited was nowhere near as pleased. As if just another day, he donned his wedding robes and entered his work chamber to sit down and draft some ravens that he'd be sending out that evening.
Knock! Knock!
The door opened and Melisandre entered. Her footsteps were soundless, her red robes fluttered with her movement. Her gown with a particularly deep neck left little to the imagination.
"Did you bring it?" Joffrey asked her and relaxed in his chair while gesturing for her to come closer.
Lips pressed in a smile, Melisandre walked beside Joffrey's chair and lowered herself onto his lap sideways. Her soft rear pressed right atop the King's manhood while she felt his strong arm support her back.
"I did, Your Grace." She opened the small box she had brought. "But it only works once."
"I merely need it to work once," Joffrey said and felt Melisandre's body. Although he had no interest in her cunt, her mouth and body were sublime. His hand caressed the nakedness on her back, while the other one cupped her breasts as if he owned her.
Melisandre did her own thing and took out the tiny bird from the box. Carefully, she opened Joffrey's surcoat from the chest and then placed the little bird in the hidden pocket inside. "Once it feels there's poison in something it eats. It will immediately die."
"Hm," Joffrey nodded, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, basking in the splendor of his kingly indulgences. His loins heated and hard under her full, bouncy hips, and his hands easily slid under her neckline, seizing one of her ample breasts. "Have you sent word to your trusted colleagues as I commanded?"
Melisandre let him do as he pleased. In her mind, this was nothing but an event predestined by the will of her god. This was just a part of her duty. Not a part that she hated either as she gulped when he pinched her taut nipples. On her own she grinded her hips on his lap, making sure the man felt the heat between the crevice with his masculine rod of flesh. "Yess~ Your Grace… They have started to move."
"Very well." Satisfied, Joffrey pulled her silken red gown down off her shoulders, sliding aside the straps. With that, her bountiful, glorious breasts came into his naked view. His hands became rougher, kneading them one after another. "What of the Iron Bank?"
"Ah!" Melisandre suppressed a moan. Their scandalous actions on the day of his wedding felt like a strange taboo. She had no idea what the King had planned for today, but her decision to stand with him was made long ago. "T-The Iron Bank will… Wait for you to approach them."
The faith of the Lord of Light is stronger than I imagined. They have pawns even in the Iron Bank? Joffrey silently mused over the indirect influence he had won. However, he knew the debt to the Iron Bank had to be paid eventually. But Melisandre earned him a little more time somehow. A year will be enough.
"I'm impressed," Joffrey replied and leaned down. His lips landed on her warm neck where he gently laid a kiss, then went downward while making her body lean further backward with his other support arm. Her breasts welcomed him right away, squeezed and suckled between his lips, the flushed nipples teased with flicks of the tongue.
"Aaaah! Y-Your Grace…" Melisandre accepted the passion as a sign of acceptance from her King. "I-ugh-It's my duty!"
Joffrey smiled with delight and stopped suckling her. He made her sit normally again. "So is pleasing me with your mouth."
"Your Grace, do you want to…"
"But I don't have the luxury of wasting my time today. There's much to be done, and it won't do itself. Make sure you're at the wedding, and keep a close eye on that old crone Olenna Tyrell without being noticed."
Melisandre jolted and stared at Joffrey abruptly, instantly realizing why the King wanted that bird. "She wouldn't dare to pois—"
At times like these, Joffrey doubted the red-lipped whore. Her faith in him was so high that she overestimated him, and if he were to blindly believe her, it'd be his doom. "You forgot. At the end of the day, they don't want a king to marry their smirking whore. They want a docile dog—I'm sure you know who that is."
She fixed her dress and silently nodded. Her mastery was in her faith, not politics. She had received plenty of visions but none concerning the Tyrells. "I understand, Your Grace."
Joffrey waved at her then and sent her away. He had his fill of bodily pleasure with Val the night before already. Today was the day to relish in the pleasure of blood.
He finished writing ravens, locked them in a safe for later, and headed to one of the rarely used stables near the Red Keep to find a secret tunnel. He knew about its existence and the other details from 'trustable' sources.
"For all the talk of pride and honor, Grandfather in the end remained a man no grander than Tyrion." Joffrey soon found the entrance to the tunnel and decided to head in with a torch. "Stand guard here, Sandor."
Dug for a King's Hand whose honor wouldn't allow him to enter such a house openly. That was the only thing Joffrey knew about as Chataya refused to reveal the secret. There was fear involved, no doubt. Only Tywin came to his mind who could make Chataya refuse the King.
Walking through the long tunnel, he soon arrived at the end, from where the only way was up through a shaft to which a metal ladder was attached. He climbed up all the way to the top and felt some faint airy waves.
Knock!
He realized it was wood, so he pushed the blockage with a little force and easily gained entry into a secret cupboard. He walked into the cupboard and gently opened one of its doors to look outside.
She must have emptied it by now. He walked into the most luxurious room of Chataya's brothel, the turret room.
His nose felt attacked by a sweet, spicy aroma all of a sudden. He glanced towards the large, round canopied bed and saw none other than Chataya lying there on her belly. Alayaya, her daughter, was there too and poured oil on the dusky naked skin of her mother, massaging everywhere.
Joffrey amusedly smirked and appraised the woman's form. He had never seen Chataya bare, nor had he lain with her before. She was a tall woman, almost taller than Joffrey himself. She had an elegant body, her skin shiny and ebony. Her wide, heavy, and firm hips made Joffrey curse himself for never having her before.
Those legs. He gulped seeing her soft, thick thighs and calves. She was built like a warrior, yet graceful and beautiful.
"Getting oiled up, are we? Who is this big man seeking the owner of this establishment herself?" Joffrey asked, making his presence known. The matter intrigued him since Chataya rarely ever gave her time and body to men anymore. And those who could afford such coin were far too few.
Both the women looked at him. But Joffrey only focused on the one on the bed, since only she was naked as the day she was born.
"Welcome, Your Grace." Chataya greeted, her voice smooth and laced with the accent. She didn't get up and only turned her head towards him. "Lord Oberyn desires to celebrate your marriage with me tonight."
"My marriage? Ah… Understandable." Joffrey chuckled, quickly understanding it. After all, Oberyn and Dorne's long-standing desire for revenge was going to be fulfilled that day.
"Seeking pleasure here on your wedding day, Your Grace?" Chataya inquired then.
Taking a deep sigh, Joffrey walked closer to the bedside and got beside Alayaya. He took the jar of oil from her hands and took some in his palm before smearing it gently on Chataya's curving, hot, small of her back. "You can go, Alayaya. I'll help my good… Chataya for now."
Giggling, Alayaya bowed and walked away to the door. "Call for me if you need anything, Your Grace."
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