บท 12: Chapter 12: Deep In North I
[A/N: Webnovel punishes books that post less quantity by lowering them in the ranks, and does not care about the length of chapters. This is why I will be dividing my long chapters into pieces.]
[Chapter 12 posted before was mistakenly repeated Chapter 11. It's been removed now. This is the real chapter 12.]
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"What happened here? Where is everyone?" Joffrey asked, standing in his armored attire and sword unsheathed. Before him was Torrhen's Square—empty.
Ser Arthur, the commander of the Golden Legion, returned with a team from inside the castle walls. "It's empty, Your Grace. The Ironborn ran away, seeing our army arriving."
Joffrey scratched his face, feeling he had wasted too much energy preparing for a battle that never arrived. Beside him, Lady Catelyn stood with similar expressions but with a hint of relief. One less battle meant they could go faster to liberate Winterfell.
"In that case, we shall head to The Rills," Joffrey commanded and glanced at Lady Catelyn, knowing she wanted them to rush, and going to the house Ryswell meant going in the opposite direction. "We can't lay siege to the Boltons until we have the utmost guarantee that we won't be stabbed in the back. I hope you understand my thoughts, Lady Catelyn. The last thing the realm needs is the death of Joffrey Baratheon."
Catelyn sheepishly nodded, "I understand, Your Grace."
And so, Joffrey conveniently had to spend a few more nights with the crimson-haired beauty. Sadly, after that night, Joffrey had to take a step back since Catelyn refused to share the bed with him and chose to sleep outside.
Of course, sorting that matter was easy by ordering a few Unsullied men to sleep naked near the Stark matriarch. A day or two, that was all it took for the woman to return to his tent.
Still, Joffrey didn't act foolish and pounce on her. Instead, he restarted the whole game from step one. The first step was to make it normal for her to sleep while being embraced by her King. Then, he made it normal for himself to be naked under the quilt and his hands resting on questionable places all over her.
He showered the mentally exhausted woman with care and kindness, helping her onto and off the horseback, ensuring her needs were cared for, and her discomforts were removed. He talked with her about Sansa and even showed her a raven he had just received from King's Landing.
It was now confirmed that Sansa was pregnant with his baby, and Arya had been reunited with Sansa. Sandor Clegane had done a great job, but despite the man wanting to join his King as the Kingsguard, he was ordered to protect Sansa and Arya.
Sadly, what frustrated Joffrey the most was the fact Margaery remained without a bloated belly. With Sansa pregnant, there was no doubt in him that his seed was strong, so other doubts were bound to arise.
Yet, for now, Joffrey let those worries sit at the back of his mind. Since he had a much more charming and savory delight to devour.
Finally, after putting the Ryswells to their heels and getting their oaths, Joffrey set the destination to Hornwood. It was very far, and it earned him some sweet, five extra nights.
By the end of their journey to the Hornwood, Joffrey had made it normal for Catelyn also to be disrobed under the quilt with him. Skin to skin, appreciate his touch and allow him entrance to her most sacred, private part.
For two consecutive nights, Joffrey made slow and passionate love to Catelyn. On both nights, she merely moaned and never once complained, even when he spilled loads and loads inside. Somehow, his charm, his care, his purposeful display of maturity, his might, and his warmth had worked—Catelyn Stark no longer belonged to the dead wolf.
At last, the lion had captured her heart. She wasn't going to confess to it, but Catelyn Stark found her heart had carved a special place for Joffrey Baratheon.
So much different from the brute of his father. So much more knightly, kingly—a gentleman. Sometimes, she felt ashamed of doing this to the man her daughter was promised. At times, she felt she deserved this warmth after all she'd been through.
A mixture of emotions, memories, hopes, and desires culminated into what they had now—an unspeakable bond between a young man and an older woman.
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Thud!
"I, Donella Hornwood…"
Turns out, Lord Hornwood was dead, as was his son. Only the Lady was left to rule the lands; apparently, the Boltons were trying to take over the House Hornwood. Attempts were already made to kidnap Lady Hornwood.
"We express our utmost gratitude for your presence, Your Grace. Those wretched Boltons seem to think they own the entire North." Lady Hornwood clearly held no love for the Boltons.
Joffrey didn't wish to wait anymore, "Then prepare your men. When you receive my word, join me to lay siege. This time, Dreadfort shall hear the echoes of Rains of Castamere through its halls."
The old woman straightened her back at Joffrey's words. Only now did she remember that the man before her had Lannister blood, too.
Oh, poor Boltons, she thought.
With that, Joffrey finally marched towards Winterfell. Of course, it required a few nights and days—Nights warmly spent in the embrace of a tall, shapely woman with an allure that Joffrey simply couldn't have enough of. Like a nightly ritual, their bodies joined, and Joffrey laid his foundation deep within her.
His key to the Riverlands and Vale—His Catelyn Stark.
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As the army marched closer and closer to the Winterfell, it started to become drastically clear how damaged the seat of the Stark family was. Some dead bodies were still littered here and there, rotting or mere bones.
That was what they could see from the outside, as the castle didn't look to be in great shape either. Once inside the walls, Joffrey, along with Catelyn and a few of his soldiers, roamed the castle to assess the damage.
The sacking of Winterfell by the Boltons had utterly ruined the place. One whole side of the First Keep had collapsed. A steaming lake had formed at the bottom of the Library Tower, while the Maester's Turret and the bridge connecting the Bell Tower to the rookery were destroyed. The stables were burned with horses inside, and kennels were littered with dead hounds.
At last, when they entered the Great Hall, Catelyn's eyes shed a few tears. The entire ceiling of the Great Hall had collapsed. A place so dear in her memories, the place that held so many feasts.
"Don't shed tears." Joffrey, showing calculated concern, walked before the woman and embraced her tightly, arms wrapping around her waist. His shoulder gave her a place to wipe her tears. "This is why you must remain ruthless."
He beckoned his head and softly grasped Catelyn's face from both sides, lifting it for her. Looking from that close, he could see a few signs of aging on her skin, but her beauty remained peerless nonetheless. So, he lowered his lips and gently kissed her before embracing her again.
"The reconstruction of Winterfell shall be funded with the blood of the Boltons. That's my word to you, my Lady." Joffrey warmly caressed her back and allowed her to sob as much as she wanted. "Dreadfort won't exist for long. You—House Stark—will seize that land, and as the King, I shall decree for the Starks to expand the landholdings."
Catelyn hugged him back at his concerns and warm gestures, squeezing his chest against her cushiony large bosom.
Ah, the things I do to stay alive. Joffrey sighed but found delight in the soft sensation.
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The roofless Great Hall of Winterfell was soon cleaned of all its rubble, so a large flat area was available for a gathering. As the day passed and night approached, a few lords of other noble houses also arrived with whatever men they could gather.
Manderly, Dustin, Flint, Locke, and even the Mormonts and Umbers. Yet, Joffrey's Golden Legion of over four thousand Unsullied remained the largest force.
Illuminated by dozens of torches, Joffrey stood in the middle of the crowd of armored noble lords in the Great Hall. Under his feet was the painted map of the region showing Dreadfort and the surrounding regions.
"The Hornwoods will launch an attack from their South. Meanwhile, we shall strike them from the West and the East. A part of my forces have left for the Weeping Water River. When our main forces lay siege, the Dreadfort's dwellers may try to retreat towards the sea—only to find death waiting for them." Joffrey explained the simple battle tactics. Of course, he didn't dare make such a plan alone and instead discussed it with Ser Arthur and other captains of his army since they were much more experienced in large-scale warfare.
"How are we going to penetrate the defenses of the Dreadfort?" Asked Wyman Manderly, a lord who was too fat to fight, simply came to witness the end of House Bolton. "Dreadfort is a strong fortress, Your Grace."
Joffrey smiled, "You are in for a surprise, Lord Manderly. No walls are safe anymore, and no castle is impenetrable. I have tools in my arsenal that will bring down Dreadfort's walls like a house of glass."
Amused and interested, some lords called it bullshit, and some lords decided to wait and watch. If it was indeed true, then King Joffrey had to be treated differently—with more respect, perhaps.
With the war meeting over, Joffrey looked at Catelyn Stark, now dressed in a better, new gown that had been left behind since the men sacking the place saw no worth in it. Finely crafted, it stuck to her curves like a second skin, but the large, wooly cloak over it hid some of it.
"I believe Lady Catelyn has some words to speak before we move on to supper," Joffrey called her over.
Proud and strong, Catelyn stepped forward and stood beside Joffrey. Her hair was cascading freely and loosely tied around her back, her body so scentful that Joffrey could already imagine how he was going to digest tonight's supper.
"I will not speak much, but I will remind you what we have lost. Many of you had your sons die, and many, your fathers. That night, if not for His Grace, House Stark would almost be extinct, and the Boltons would be left to take it all.
"That night, it wasn't Robb Stark that was betrayed; It was the North. Vile schemes, inhuman actions, and dishonorable deeds are all the Boltons are synonymous with. My Lords, if not for the memory of Robb Stark, Eddard Stark, or for House Stark—Raise your swords for the North! For as long as the Boltons live, there will always loom a dagger behind your back. Ready to kill and take what's yours!"
Joffrey nodded right then and unsheathed his sword before raising it up, "I, King Joffrey Baratheon, detract all the titles, lands, and rights to rule held by House Boltons of the North. Let's give them a dog's death—For the North!"
"For the North!"
The easiest thing to do in the North was to excite the northern lords with a good battle. Joffrey knew that and capitalized on it. Not to mention, it earned him a few more thankful gazes from Catelyn.
What followed was a modest supper. Almost all the Lords of the North came to Joffrey one by one to make small talk. Some admired his army, and some thanked him for getting rid of the Freys. Clearly, the Twins had angered many lords with their monopoly on the river crossing.
Afterward, everyone headed to their tents to rest. Joffrey remained inside Winterfell Castle, or what was left of it. He followed Catelyn Stark to one of the hallways and then to a part of the castle that still stood firm.
"In here, Your Grace." With a bit of shame in her voice, Catelyn opened a wooden door and invited him into the chamber. "This used to be my bedchamber… or what's left of it. The sackers took whatever of value they found."
Tasteful. Joffrey glanced around and saw a large bed with comfortable bedding. That must be her marital bed—the same she shared with Ned so many times before. And today, it will be ours.
No doubt, he started to feel hard already. He had even planned something new for the woman—the next step in their relationship.
"Before we march to battle, I reckon you'd appreciate the comfort of a good bed, Your Grace." Catelyn closed the door behind, locking it. "I'm afraid it won't compare to the luxury of King's Landing, but—"
"It's perfect," Joffrey interrupted, already in the middle of taking off his leather chest armor, gloves, and boots. "When you have a company so fine, nothing else matters."
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