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GOT: The Golden Lion GOT: The Golden Lion original

GOT: The Golden Lion

Author: MrPlotThickens

© WebNovel

Chapter 1: Chapter 1. A King And His Betrothed

Red Keep,

"T-They… are coming…Agh!"


Visible veins covering the entirety of his face, Joffrey fell to the floor while clenching his neck in agony. The sliding death inching closer to him showed him scenes he couldn't make sense of but were so vivid that they etched themselves in his mind.

From the death of Brandon Stark at the hands of the Mad King, the death of the Mad King at the hands of Ser Jamie Lannister, the murder of King Robert Baratheon from the schemes of his mother, and the secrets of his own birth. From the land beyond the wall to the lands beyond the sea, from the past to the future—Joffrey saw, heard, and felt as his eyes turned stark red and his mouth foamed with poison residue.

Anger, fear, disappointment—Joffrey saw his own cruelty from the eye of a third man. How those around him cowered in front and sneered behind him. His own mother saw him as a sick monster, and the realm hated him for being another 'Mad King.'

"I… See… All!"

Amidst the chaos at the wedding feast, his last words escaped his mouth and became the first of his reborn self.


"Eat shit, dwarf."

"You're on the wrong side of the wall."

"I lost half my men. The Blackwater's on fire."

"It's all useless…" Clad in his regal armor, Joffrey voiced loud enough to be heard by Tyrion beside him. "All this is meaningless… this war, this filth, this…"

A strange glow appeared in Joffrey's deep green eyes as they suddenly began turning pale blue, seemingly reacting to something magical. His senses returned to his body, and he looked around himself. Chaos was everywhere, the rain was draping the battlefield, and yet the fire never quashed itself.

Right below the stairway of the border wall, he watched as the Hound, or Dog as he called him, bickered with Tyrion.

"Fear of fire?" Joffrey mumbled under his breath as he recollected that information out of nowhere in a surprising moment of calm. He remembered this event, how he shouted back then when the city's defense began dwindling.

"Ser Clegane!" Joffrey shouted, shocking the two men as he never used that word to call the scarred man. "Can you at least man the wall and command the archers? You will be rewarded with gold once this is over."

"What? But we need him out ther—"

"Your Grace!" Ser Lancel Lannister came running, stumbling, holding his injured arm. "The Queen has sent me to bring you back to the Red Keep!"

Joffrey, knowing the future, the past, the various examples of fallen kings, and how vile Cersei was, felt no love for anything. There was confusion in his mind, not knowing what was happening after his humiliating death. But there was some clarity in this moment.

"If you don't defend your own city, wh—"

Joffrey raised his hand and stopped Tyrion midspeech, "Ser Lancel, you will remain by my side in this battle and fight. Uncle, I'm not going anywhere."

"But Your Grace, the Queen has—"

"Shut your mouth! Queen Mother is the word you all must use for her from this instant!" Joffrey bellowed, his anger flaring up, an old habit after all. "I am your King! My word is the law, and I command you to follow me in this battle."


Joffrey turned his back and focused on the battlefield as the sound of a battering ram slowly weakening the defense became louder and louder. "Ser Mandon, stab through Ser Lancel's heart if he speaks or dares leave the battlefield."

"Uncle, do you have any plans?" He turned to the short man, whose abilities he could finally see. He knew the role the man would play in the future.

Tyrion looked at the gathering soldiers or whatever able-bodied men they had left in the city, "They're at the gates, and we need to engage them outside. I know a way out, Your Grace."

"Then lead us there."

"You are the King. It is YOU, who must lead. Just raise your sword and say some words. They will follow you."

Joffrey looked at the crowd of soldiers who watched him with hope. It was laughable that they were ready to put their trust in him, who had done nothing but show his vile side up until then.

But things were going to change from now on.

"My soldiers!" Joffrey raised his sword, feeling it quite heavy in his arm. "My Uncle here knows a way out, and I know a way to end this battle—we kill them all! So follow me as I lead, but I promise no riches, for protecting this city is our duty, but once we win, I do promise lots of ale and women—on me!"

Just then, Tyrion chimed in, "Raise your swords and shout in the name of your King Joffrey!"

"Hail the king!"




The soldiers were pumped, and their vigor returned. But Joffrey knew what was awaiting them outside. So he turned to look at Ser Boros, his Kingsguard, and whispered something into the man's ears.

"Take Ser Clegane with you and six more men. I need it done as soon as we charge at the enemy outside—and remember, aim in the direction of the Red Keep," Joffrey commanded and walked to Ser Clegane. He whispered something into his ears, which earned a grunt of acceptance. "If you fail, I'll strip you of all ranks and send you to the Wall."

Immediately, the Kingsguard rushed away with Ser Clegane away from the frontlines and into the city to do something nobody knew.

Joffrey being competent, albeit still seeming insufferable, was a rare sight to see. Especially to Tyrion, who began questioning whether this was the same boy. But the short warrior decided not to question anything, leaving the matter for the future.

"Lead us to the secret path, Uncle."

Tyrion nodded and moved quickly. With Joffrey behind, the entire army, with their morale at their highest ever, traveled through the secret passage and soon arrived behind the army that was trying to break into the city.

"Charge!" Joffrey shouted and ran forward. However, he still feared for his life and let the others run faster than himself and engage the enemies first. However, the most shocking thing was how his Uncle seemingly effortlessly chopped a man's leg with his battle axe.

"Kill the King!" Stannis' men roared.

"Protect the King!" Tyrion shouted in return.


At last, Joffrey found himself blocking a strike. His arms quivered underneath the pressure, finding the lack of strength in his body utterly shameful.

"This is all so meaningless!" He cursed again as the haunting image of the Others flashed in his head, and he found the momentary energy to push forward.


He swung his blade and sloppily stabbed the enemy's throat. At that time, Ser Mandon appeared and cleaved the man in half with a mighty swing.

The battle went on, quite bloody at that. Having lived through his own death, Joffrey felt nothing while killing or using his own soldiers as shields before landing a blow at the enemy. He lacked strength, so all he could do was be quick on his feet. The Kingsguard wasn't enough either, so he had to defend himself.

But over time, while seeing their King fighting alongside them, the soldiers overcame and killed the invading army. As the last man got stabbed to death, the soldiers began to shout the cry of victory and lit a fire on the overturned battering ram.

"King Joffrey! King Joffrey…"

"Halfman! Halfman…"

"It's not over yet!" Joffrey roared at the top of his lungs, sadly sounding nothing like a man as his voice cracked. "Aim to the east!"

Right then, the muffled, combined war cries of the enemies came from the distance in the blanket of the night. An army was coming their way. They could hear it and feel it rumble on the ground.

"Prepare!" Tyrion took the command and readied the soldiers.

Joffrey nervously stared and waited, having noticed Ser Boros and the Hound already. But the contraption wasn't ready yet, and he felt his body shivering in fright. There were too many soldiers to battle against, and at the same time, he didn't want to give this victory to his grandfather, another 'lion' who wished to use him as a mere tool.

"Your Grace!" Ser Boros's voice came at last.

Not even wasting a second, Joffrey roared back, "At the same time! LOOSE!"



The sound of something slicing through the air echoed with a frightening whistle. It was too dark to see, so neither they nor the enemy saw it coming.

But the carnage showed the effects. Stannis' charging army was chopped in half from their thighs. The entire frontline of the army and all the way to the middle were sliced—each and every man turned into a bloody mess, and those who didn't die merely cried in their pool of blood.

Tyrion rubbed his eyes and quickly dismissed the possibility of magic when he noticed the Hound and Ser Boros standing a distance apart with a portable large ballista called Scorpion. He connected the dots and instantly realized what Joffrey had done. Tying a thin string of a sharp wire or rope with two arrowheads of the Scorpion and shooting them, instantly making a deadly weapon.

"Charge!" Joffrey roared again and ran forward. The enemy was still there, and his little trick had only killed the frontline and shocked the rest with the gore. The rest, he knew, still needed to be done in traditional ways.



Soon enough, the highly motivated defenders, high on their thirst for victory, pounced on Stannis' men like hungry lions. Slowly but eventually, victory appeared within sight as the enemies began to retreat.

Joffrey, beside Tyrion, fought all over the battlefield, killing whatever he could find. But he had a different reason for sticking by his uncle's side. He knew that he alone wasn't enough to outsmart cunning people like Cersei and Tywin, so he needed the next best mind to help him, and for that, he needed to earn this man's trust.


Here it comes. Joffrey saw his Kingsguard, Ser Mandon Moore, turning against them and coming to strike Tyrion.



Just then, Ser Boros used the Scorpion and shot the gigantic arrow at the Kingsguard. The arrow pierced through the man and nailed him to the city wall.

"Fucking traitor!" Joffrey grunted and prepared to fight another foe.

Tyrion saw it all and was left speechless. What is happening? Did the Seven suddenly decide to possess the boy? Is this a dream? How did he know it before it happened?

"Kill them all!" Almost with bloodlust, Joffrey roared with his hoarse voice, his throat already shattered from so much shouting.

He ran towards the fleeting soldiers of Stannis, scared of the increasing ballistas that were shooting at them from the walls, the dead bodies that continued to pile up, and the screaming morale of the city's guardians.

"It's over!" Tyrion mumbled as the last man ran back towards the sea.

"Kill them!" Joffrey still kept shouting, his own body marred with minor wounds, his face covered with blood that wasn't his, and his sword dripping crimson.

"Your Grace, we've won!" Tyrion tugged at Joffrey's arm and pulled him out of his stupor. "You won!"

"What?" Panting, Joffrey looked around himself. The soldiers were celebrating, raising their swords and burning all the battering rams and dead bodies to light up the beach.

"Not over yet…" Joffrey tiredly grumbled and once again began moving. He swayed occasionally as his body lacked the stamina he wished he had.

The gates opened, and he walked back into the city with Tyrion, his squire, and Ser Boros behind him. All the way to the Red Keep and then pushing through the doors. He arrived at the throne room.

There, Cersei sat on the iron throne, telling stories to Tommen on her lap. Just the mere sight of his mother churned Joffrey's stomach. A woman who would go to any length to get what she wanted, and he had no doubt she'd kill him too.

"Joffrey!" Cersei yelped and jumped to her feet before running all the way to him and taking him in her embrace. "Are you alright? What happened? Why didn't you come? I was so terrified for you, my love."

Joffrey didn't hold her back and waited until she stopped hugging him. Then, he walked from her side and climbed the stairs to the Iron Throne before finally taking his seat.

"Ah…" He felt pain across his body, some muscles pulled, and some minor open wounds. But he maintained a dignified look and stared at the door. "The war is over. I won, Mother."

Utter confusion spread across Cersei's face. She couldn't believe this was her own son. His entire aura and persona felt so different.


Right then, the doors to the Throne Room opened once again, and dozens of Tyrell forces entered. Then Tywin Lannister appeared, the man Joffrey knew he needed to be careful with. But it filled Joffrey with joy seeing Tywin and Tyrell forces look clean, their armor shining. They were too late for the battle.

"What happened out there?" Tywin inquired in a dignified tone.


But just then, the Hound entered while dragging a man behind him—short hair, blue eyes, in leather armor, and looking bloodied up. Anyone who saw him gasped.

"I found him right where you told me to look… Your Grace." the Hound said and threw the man forward on the flooring.

Joffrey genuinely smiled at that moment and felt completely relaxed at last. Life had thrown him into this situation all too suddenly, but he was able to make the best of it.

"Stannis Baratheon, do you have anything to say?" Joffrey stood up and walked down the staircase while addressing the man he had caught.

"You did a commendable job, Your Grace," Tywin tried to chime in on Joffrey's moment of glory since his plan was ruined. "You clearly require rest and healing. I shall interrogate the rebel."

"No need," Joffrey silenced his grandfather and menacingly dragged his sword. The tip scratching the floor, maliciously frightening.

"We are not dealing with a mere rebel, after all. This man here is a heretic who enslaved himself to the Red Priestess… bidding her twisted fantasies, weaving stories to take my birthright! Tonight, with my own hands, I proved that I'm every bit a Baratheon that my Father was—with an army much smaller, with a single ship—I won!"

By then, many of the soldiers who fought at the Blackwater Bay also arrived in the throne room and hummed in agreement or downright chanted his name with fervor.

"You are no Baratheon…" Stannis scowled despite being almost unconscious from the beating the Hound gave. "I am the only true Ki—"



Joffrey didn't allow Stannis to speak another word and stabbed straight through his mouth, piercing the blade all the way until it came out of the back of the head. His body fell back, only to stay slant from the support of the sword.

"I am the only true Baratheon! I am the only true King," Joffrey proclaimed, aiming his words at almost everyone in the room. Of course, those who fought alongside didn't doubt him anymore, but the Tyrells did.

"King Joffrey!"

"King Joffrey!"

Grandfather can't be allowed to become the Hand. I'll lose whatever pitiful power and control I have left. He reminded himself.

"Uncle," He looked at Tyrion, the current Hand of the King. "Send a raven to Dragonstone with Stannis' ring and a finger. Tell them Stannis is dead, and give them a week to surrender. Give assurity that my cousin, Shireen, will not be harmed, but the Red Priestess must die."

"As you wish, Your Grace." Surprised by how fluidly the boy moved and acted, Tyrion decided to do as asked for now and left.

Next, Joffrey glanced at his grandfather and understood that he had to give something to him and the Tyrells since he still needed the alliance with the Tyrells. The crown was in too much debt. The city was in decay.


"Your Grace," The old lion looked at the changed King.

"Can you organize a small army to sweep through the Stormlands? With this defeat, the kingdom stands without a significant army. They need to be reminded who their King is," Joffrey said while locking gaze with the man. But then he glanced at Ser Loras Tyrell, "I'm sure the Tyrells can help—of course, in return, I'm willing to give you anything you may desire."

He knew what Tyrells wanted, and honestly, he found himself quite interested in tasting the rose of Highgarden that he couldn't in his other, foolish lifetime.

"Ah… I feel tired now," he stumbled a little and knelt on one knee to end the awkward gathering.

"Your Grace!" The loyal Kingsguard came running to help and led him out for healing and much-needed rest.

With that, the long and tiring night came to an end. Chaotic, fruitful, and certainly interesting—such were the words Joffrey used to describe it.

Now to deal with the North, He told himself before beginning to lose consciousness to fatigue.


He's a monster...

Born of incest...

He's a demon…

I wish a thousand deaths upon him…

Tell Cersei… It was me…


"Haaaa!" Joffrey woke up in his bed in the middle of the night. His eyes were red, panting and sweating throughout his body, covered with bandages in some places. The words, the memories of the future and the past, all haunted him and, above all, what lay beyond.

"Your Grace?"

Joffrey looked to his side at the source of the meek feminine voice. He knew who it belonged to, but why she was there was worth questioning.

"Sansa? What are you doing here this late?" He asked, finding the look of the girl quite charming. Now that he had died once, he saw what he had never cherished before. She was tall and slim with auburn hair, blue eyes, and fair skin; a lithe body that was constantly more and more alluring as time passed.

Sansa's eyes widened in panic, and her stuttering voice came while never meeting his gaze. "Y-Your Grace… The Queen ordered me to… care for you and… a-and help you with the faint fever."

I have broken her spirit. Joffrey saw it clearly now.

He had seen the future, and he had seen how fierce and headstrong she was destined to become. However, not as an enemy from now on. He had learned his lesson with the dose of poison, to not antagonize people when a little bit of smiling and scheming can get the job done.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa," he spoke gently and respectfully, taking small peaks at her dress that was likely a nightdress, a simple silk gown with a cut for the neck that showed some skin above her budding breasts.

"May I ask you something?"

Sansa tensed up immediately, not wanting to be with him in the same room at such a time, "O-Of course, Your Grace."

"Do you fear me?"

Sansa didn't reply immediately, feeling taken aback, "I don't, Your Grace… You're a very kind man, a responsible ruler, and—"

"I'm not any of these things..." Joffrey interrupted her with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "The truth is that I have been very unkind towards you and the people of this city. I have hurt you physically and mentally. I have tried to humiliate your modesty in court. So tell me again, do you fear me? I want the truth, or I will be angry."

"I-I… I…" Sansa froze in fright, for she knew telling the truth would also get her in trouble.

"Calm down," Joffrey suddenly shifted his hand and placed his palm on hers as she sat beside his bed. He caressed her bare skin, warm and smooth, and apparently, shivering. "If I said I'm a changed man now, would you believe me?"

Once again, she remained silent. She knew how unstable Joffrey was with everything, so it was hard to believe anything he said.

"Are you not my betrothed?" Joffrey asked her.

"I am, Your Grace."

"Then should you not be honest with me? And look me in the eye when talking?" Joffrey lifted her face by the chin with his finger until she looked at him. "Tell me, do I look more handsome now with all these scars or before the battle?"

"N-Now… Your Grace," She replied. "Y… You look like a fierce warrior who has defeated—"

So much fear in her heart. Joffrey sighed, seeing her state.

But I can't delay it anymore. The Tyrells will demand it tomorrow; I must get Sansa to become mine in every way possible.

"Forgive me. I have been the worst of husbands to you. I'm sure you hoped for a graceful prince, a nobleman in all forms," he muttered and looked towards the ceiling of the regal room, reminiscing about all the mistakes he ever made.

"Truth be spoken, I have been a disappointment to myself. But tonight in the battle, I found a purpose, a reason, a role that suits a King."

"Who are you?" Sansa suddenly questioned.

Joffrey laughed and spoke the words he knew she wanted to hear, "Haha, too many people have been asking me this question, Lady Sansa. But war changes people, and it gave me a purpose. I wish to end all bloodshed, I wish to end all the wars—with your brother, with the Ironborn… I want prosperity in this realm… Will you help me in this pursuit?"

Sansa stared at the hand Joffrey extended towards her. It was exactly what she always wanted ever since she arrived in King's Landing. However, all she received was pain, torture, and tears. Even now, tears welled up in her eyes.

And yet again, I've made this maiden cry. Joffrey wondered how he was so delusional about himself before. Heck, he couldn't even lift the sword that well in the battle. There was nothing mighty about him.

"I will, Your Grace. I will help you if you'll have me by your side," she replied like a dignified lady, albeit with fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Lady Sansa," Joffrey suddenly sat up on his bed, his bare chest clad with bandages becoming visible.

He shifted and pulled Sansa in for a hug from her seat on the chair. She had to get up and sit on his bed to accommodate him in a quick move. Before she even knew it, her chest was pressed on his, and both their bodies felt the exchange of heat.

She wanted to get away from him, but at the same time, the fear of angering him reigned over her mind. Helplessly, she just hoped the night would pass quickly.

He knew it was awkward, so he kept caressing her back gently on the silk gown, respectfully. He hugged her tightly, holding her with an intense grip. She didn't scream or resist him; she just tried to speak shyly but wasn't able to.

"I know my Mother and I have been unkind towards you. But no more… I am the King, and I say that you are to be respected and given complete freedom in this castle. You are to be at my side, Lady Sansa—for that trust to build between us, we must be closer," Joffrey said, implying various meanings as he beckoned and glanced at her pale face with striking features.

Her deep blue eyes were utterly charming. Her high cheekbones and thick auburn hair were a sight any man would want at his bedside every night. He wanted her. He needed her, not just for political reasons but for personal needs.

"What do you mean, Your G—"

Joffrey cut off her words and planted his lips on hers without warning. He knew it was too quick, but he had to do it before someone annoying came to disturb them.

His one hand remained wrapped around her thin waist, keeping her tightly held against his chest. His other hand cupped her head from behind so she couldn't escape his lips while his tongue tried to pry her mouth open.

"Umm…" She tried to protest. "Your Grac—"

Just as she tried to speak, Joffrey invaded her mouth and kept it open with his tongue. He pulled her closer as he leaned back, taking the support of the headboard of the bed. Sasna was almost resting on his body, with her hips resting between his legs and her breast pressing against his right chest, her palm resting on the other in a useless attempt to get away.

He reveled in her intoxicating scent of perfumes, and the taste of her mouth was just right. His tongue slurped around hers, plundering her deliciousness. Eyes closed, he kept at it and slowly felt faint responses from her tongue.

At the same time, his one hand on her waist slid slowly, tracing her curves and eventually resting on her round, alluring hips that were a charm on her tall stature with those long legs. At last, his curiosity was quelled as he felt her softness. There was quite a lot to knead.

Meanwhile, his other hand moved from behind her hand to downward and gripped her neck softly, sending quivers of fright across Sansa's body.

"Your G—"

She tried to speak, but he shut her up with a deep kiss. For a few long moments, he kept playing with her tongue until she became fully responsive, tugging on his tongue with her lips as well and participating in their slippery, slurping, heated game.

Her breath eventually turned choppy, seeming like shallow pants.

"Sansa," Joffrey left her mouth to speak, letting their saliva drip from the union of their lips. He stared at her face with a burning desire while caressing her cheek with a hand, playfully tugging her long, silky hair. "Am I not your betrothed?"

She nodded innocently, like a little deer caught in the lion's jaw, "You are, Your Grace."

"Then forgive me. We should have done this ages ago," Joffrey smiled and kissed her again, a very small one this time. "Oh, how foolish of me to never taste these rosy lips of yours—I had the most alluring beauty beside me, and I failed to cherish her."

Sansa shyly looked down and smiled, something she never thought she'd be doing in front of Joffrey, "Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace."

"Joffrey," He corrected her. "You are my woman, someone I like and love. You get to call me Joffrey from now on until we part from this world."

She likes these romantic words. I hope they work. Joffrey thought in his head, trying his best to appear like the man she had wanted since forever. Of course, a part of it was to make her fall for him, and the other was to prepare her for the next little 'game'.

"But we're not married yet, Your Grace," she said, still showing hints of doubt.

"Haha," he laughed and lay down completely on the bed, resting his head on the pillow. He pulled Sansa to his side, too, placing her head on his shoulder. "Our fathers made the decision, and now we must respect it. The day we were betrothed, you became my queen in heart… I hope you can forgive my foolery until now. I was a mad man, fueled by weakness of mind, living an aimless life."

Sansa, finding herself feeling more and more attracted to this new Joffrey, looked up at his face and softly caressed his distant cheek. "What is your aim now, Your Grace?"

It's working? I can feel her heart beating fast. But it could also be fear. Joffrey couldn't decide when to take the next step.

Dreamily, Joffrey lowered himself a little and turned towards Sansa's face, bringing himself so close that their nose almost touched. They both felt each other's breath.

"What do you see when you look at me, Sansa?" He asked.

Sansa smiled and caressed Joffrey's face, slowly placing her gentle, thin fingers in his hair. "A changed man, much stronger, much kinder, much more regal—a warrior, a victor… Everything I ever dreamt of."

Mother was right. She's too easily influenced by emotions. Joffrey sighed internally, thanking Sansa's naivety as well as seeing it as a weakness. Now that she was going to be his person, he needed her to be stronger.

Joffrey smiled hearing her reply and leaned forward to kiss her again. He strongly wrapped his arms around her to hold her tightly, bringing her head under his chin. He felt her perky breasts press against his bare chest and his throbbing erection stabbing against her lower belly.

"My aim, Sansa…" he decided to give her some truth. "Is to end my fears, become a King loved by all, respected across all of the seven kingdoms. Feed the poor, care for the orphans, end all wars in Westeros, and bring justice and order… Spend joyous time with my queen in peace."

"You are not a terrible king, Your Grace."

He knew she had just given a spontaneous response, "Hah, you know that's not the truth, Sansa. Look at the realm. The North, Riverlands, and Iron Islands are in an open rebellion—while the Vale remains a dangling threat, and… there's a Targaryen across the sea with baby dragons, waiting for them to grow and burn us all. This city is rotting, there is no food, and this winter will be harsher than most."

Loving the warmth of Joffrey's body and the feeling of concern in his voice, she felt as if in the arms of a wise king who knew everything. "Why don't we buy food from the Reach, Your Grace?"

He chuckled, caressing her entire back with his hands, keeping her warm and attempting to arouse her, "That requires gold, and the crown was left six million in debt by my Father. The Tyrells won't sell us food either, until they receive something great in return. Lannisters already amount to three million of the debt—I'm afraid I'll have to make sacrifices to solve these problems."

"Your Grace," Sansa suddenly spoke up and raised her face to his. "I'll help you in any way I can."

"Well, of course, you will, my lovely queen," he playfully replied and turned over with Sansa, bringing her underneath himself, her wrists pinned aside by his hands, his knees resting the sides of her thighs.

Don't you resist now? I can't talk anymore with this killing erection.

He looked at her face, seeming so naive and so charming, her hair sprinkled around behind her on the bed. "Your Grace…"

Joffrey leaned down and kissed her lips. Finally, to his pleasure, she reciprocated openly and wildly, eating his mouth this time as she attempted to swallow his tongue. But he didn't want to wait anymore and immediately left her mouth to kiss her neck.

His lips caressed her alabaster skin, so smooth and pure, emitting the heat of her heart. His tongue licked around her collar, her side neck, and her ear, making her shrink herself and suppress her giggling moans.

"I was such a fool," he muttered and nestled his face under her chin. He kept lowering his lips and used one hand to pull her neckline down with his fingers, giving his lips more skin to cover.

Feeling her hands rubbing his hair, he saw it as her permission to go further. So, without her knowing, he softly pulled the knots at the side of her gown that kept it held together. One, two, three, there were quite a few that tested his patience.

But in a few moments, he flicked her gown apart and opened it wide, which revealed her completely naked form without a single smallcloth since she was prepared to go to sleep.

"Your Grace!" Sansa, shocked by the sudden situation she found herself in, tried to cover herself with her arms and squeezed her legs together to hide what mattered that night.

Joffrey shook his head with a handsome smile, "By the seven—you are impeccable."

He tried to be gentle with her, but it simply wasn't something he was used to. So, a little bit of old Joffrey still played out sometimes. He went down to kiss her lips again, rendering her mute, while his hands caught her wrists and pulled her arms apart.

He didn't waste any more time on her face and dragged his tongue down, leaving a trail of hot saliva.

In no time, he found his lips resting on her perky, small breasts, still blossoming. Under the air of the room, her sensitive buds rose to stand hard.

"Umm…" Joffrey made sounds as he mounted one of her nipples, feeling it around his tongue as if it were a little pebble. Perfectly pale pink, with small areolas around; Her flawless body, ready to be plundered, left him exuberant.

"Aah!" Sansa moaned with little yelps.

Joffrey mouthed as much of her swollen flesh as he could and, feeling out of control, bit with his teeth. Not too hard, but enough to leave behind marks of his teeth. Her elastic, flaming flesh was just a delight to ravish; so without waiting, he focused on her other creamy mound and gave a bite as if he were marking her.

"Ummph!" She grunted erotically.

Joffrey felt nothing but further hardened by her sounds. So he went further down and clawed his palms in her cushiony soft flesh of her thighs to spread her legs apart with no care, ignoring her attempts to keep them sealed.

So smooth without a speck of hair, he took delight in the sight of her searing, virgin petals, as pinkish pale as her nipples, warm and moist, the reason for the dark desire that arose between his own legs.

He decided it was time, but not there yet. He wanted to see her resolve first and measure how much more work he'd need to do.

"My love," he slipped up again, keeping her legs spread apart with his crotch now poking at her entrance. "Pleasure me… Show me how much my queen loves me… show me the lovely Sansa Stark I was charmed by."

Her eyes were filled with dreamy water, her lips moist with his exploration, her face flushed with the heat of their combined desire and a need for pleasure. She lovingly looked at his face with a hint of confusion since she had no clue what to do other than a kiss.

"Rise with me, my love," Joffrey moved back and pulled her up by her hand. She followed on her knees all the way to the foot of the bed, where Joffrey sat down with his feet dangling. "Sit between my knees, Sansa."

Lost in the moment, she forgot to question his motives and got down from the bed, sitting down on her knees. Being just a little shorter than Joffrey, her face easily reached the middle of his breeches, where the throbbing hill of his erection was.

By the Maiden, she looks even more beautiful without clothes. He salivated at her naked form; the necklace contrasted against her aroused body, her glorious peaks that were branded with his teeth marks were openly brandished, and her tightly clenched knees revealed a faint residue of the glazing juices.

Quickly, Joffrey untied his breeches and removed them, getting fully naked just like Sansa. But he remained seated, showcasing his almost vertically erect cock that needed attention.

Sansa's eyes widened but never left his dangling shaft—pale as the skin of Joffrey, firm bulging lines of veins all across, a thin layer of pubes at the base, and the swollen, pink head. She had never seen a man's tool like this before, forget touching it.

"Hold it, my lovely queen—take it in your mouth," he suggested in an ordering tone. "Pleasure your King."

In a daze, albeit with second thoughts, Sansa raised her slender arm and gripped his girth with her fingers. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling his size pulsate, and stretched her fingers with its size.

Joffrey knew she was inexperienced, so he taught her what to do. He held her wrist and gilded her to stroke him, up and down, gently and smoothly. She never spoke the entire time, just watching his length.

She seems ready for it.

Then, he slid forward, almost standing but leaning his ass on the edge of the bed. He pressed the knob of his cock at her lips and began to pry them open. She responded soon and opened her mouth, letting him enter.

Control, Joffrey… You can do it.

Joffrey didn't want to plunder her mouth and scare her, so it took all his willpower to hold back. Sansa was so clueless that she even stopped holding his girth with her hand and left it to him to push into her mouth hole.

"Move your head, love. I don't want to hurt you," he warmly said, making her feel fuzzy in her heart.

That did the job as she impaled herself on his length. It was heaven for Joffrey, the slippery tight walls of her mouth, her tongue inexpertly playing around his cock. The saliva, so warm and nurturing, he felt his girth gaining some size itself.

But still scared, as soon as she felt his tip touching anywhere near the back of her tongue, she pulled back.

Naive, inexperienced, and scared. But at least she's willing to go to any length to pleasure me, which means she's in love. Joffrey assessed. I'll have enough time to teach her the rest later.

But for now, he had to hurry. Since her saliva had coated his cock enough, he felt no need for any more lubrication.

"You feel amazing, Sansa," he complimented her and made her stand up. For a moment, he marveled at her body, her shape that, albeit with smaller breasts, was so alluring as her milky hips had developed quite well around her tight flesh hiding her pure slit like treasure.

Sansa continued to smile, having fallen for Joffrey yet again with just a few words from him. She felt as if her dreams had finally come true, and all the hardship until now was merely a test.

"I love you, Your Grace." She proclaimed, blushing and shying right away.

Oh Mother, oh Maiden, you blessed this girl with too much innocence and beauty.

"And I love you too, my Sansa," he replied and made her turn around, leaving her confused.

But in the next moment, he grabbed her arms by the joint of her elbow and pulled her body back, making the silky smooth flesh of her ass fall on his erect length. She felt him nestle between the gap of her cheeks, and she realized what was coming.

"Your Grace, we should wait until marriage," she said, but held no resistance in her tone or her movements.

Joffrey only replied after he raised her a little and pulled her back again, this time slower. He moved his hips to accurately rest his knob just against her tight, unexplored, virgin loins. "My love, if we do it today or tomorrow; what makes the difference? I'm the King, and I don't need any Septon's permission to bed my wife."

"Your Grace—ah!" Sansa moaned as soon as she felt him press into her passionate dept. She felt loved, needed, and cherished by Joffrey, and the way he called her 'wife' just broke any wall of resistance left in her mind. No more did she care, she just wanted to be his.

"Aaaah!" She moaned in pain and held onto her necklace with a hand, as if holding onto the last speck of her purity.

Fuck! She's devilishly tight. Joffrey felt a rush of excitement in his head. Be gentle, Joffrey. Don't ruin this.

Joffrey had become wiser, but that didn't change his innate nature. There was still a bit of 'monster' left in him. He only ever knew how to go harder with all those whores, and they never minded, for they were nowhere near as pure as this maiden clenching his cock now.

With his hands holding her arms, he pushed his hips up and pulled Sansa down on his bulging rod. He felt every single inch of her insides as he tore her apart, being the first man to ever do so. It was a peak pleasure in itself; getting to ruin such a high noblewoman.

Every single bump, every single rush of her wetness, every little squeeze of her tightness, he felt it all around his cock, which craved to plunge deeper. But this was the point of no return, so he pulled back an inch.

"Say my name!"

"Aaaargh Oh, oh, oh, Joffrey! Oh, Mother… Ah, ah!" Sansa moaned wantonly as pain and pleasure seared through her body. The little snap of something was felt by both, and they knew its meaning.

"Sansa… My Sansa…" Joffrey didn't stop anymore; he was unable to. With no care, he arose from the bed while keeping her impaled from behind. He slid one hand around her side and grabbed her breast in a painfully tight squeeze.


With the other, he slapped her ass as hard as he could, leaving a mark. Then he slipped his palm down to her clenching, clogged pussy with his hot cock that drew out her juices, now mixed with a hint of blood. He found the little nub, her secret button of pleasure, and pinched it, rubbed it, twisted it, and earned her mindless moans.

"Ah, ha… Joffrey… You're… making me…"

Joffrey licked her ivory back, finding her skin incredibly hot. His hips moved with brutal thrusts, his cock completely impaling her sheath all the way until his pubes tickled her crack, and his balls slapped around.

Making her arch forward, he spread her legs wider and crouched a little himself, finding more space to fuck her recklessly. He didn't care who heard them outside, and loved hearing Sansa scream in pleasure.

Their combined nasty fluids dripped down onto his cock, sliding down with thick drops on his legs. But he didn't care, for the woman in his arms was too ravishingly beautiful. His one hand maintained a strong grip on her breast, kneading her harshly, turning them red.

Clap! Clap! Clap…!

It was the middle of the night, and the dimly lit room was filled with nothing but moans, cries, groans, and the scent of their union, a virginity plundered by the King who was reborn. The Lion claimed the wolf, and it was far more mind-numbing and cock-melting than Joffrey had ever expected.

"Oh, you're squeezing me tight, Sansa!" He groaned into her ears as his face was just behind her head. "Can I fuck you every day, my love?"

"Ha.. ah, ah… yes… Joffrey…" She had lost her mind, her eyes filled with tears that dripped to the floor. The pain had gone away, and the carnal pleasure was all she knew.

Joffrey loved her replies and paced faster, feeling the end building up. "On this very bed?"

"Ummm hmmm… yes!"

"In the gardens?"

"O-oh yes…"

"On the terrace? In my carriage?"

"Please… Jof—ah… yes…"

"On the throne?" He kept whispering.

And like a good wife, wanting to satisfy her husband, she kept indulging him, "Yes, yes, yes… I feel something… soooo good… Joffrey… oh my King, my love… oah.. Um umm… my love…"

Joffrey grinned; he would have been scared of himself if a mirror was there since this was the face of the old Joffrey, a man lost in lust and pleasure.


He slapped her ass cheek and groaned into her, delving deep and hard, "Ugh… Then take it, my queen… take my seeds in your hungry hole, squeeze my cock… take all of it!"

"Oh, Mother…" Sansa prayed to the goddess in that moment of peak pleasure as her own mysterious climax built up, a sensation that was new to her. "Ah, oh, oh…"

He fucked her into a climax. Her sinful body ravaged, defiled, and plundered by him. She shamefully gave in to him in ways Sansa had never thought she would. Her spasms of pleasure came uncontrollably, being her first. Her legs gave up while her hips trembled around his pumping cock. Her mind went empty while long, uninterrupted moans escaped her lips, and her head fell back in acceptance of everything Joffrey had to give.

"Argh… Fuck!" Joffrey reached his release faster and faster with her first warm nectar of love quenched his cock's thirst. He felt all the muscles around his thighs and the base of his cock stiffen, and a massive load of his seeds flooded inside her plundered depth with his loud groan of blissful agony.

Sansa felt his thick nectar move inside her sensitive walls and drizzle out with his continued pumps that seemed to weaken. She felt no protest but rather loved, marked, and blessed by the Mother. A piece of Joffrey filled her with the sticky seeds, claiming every part of her depths that she had saved for her lover—her man.

"Argh… Your slippery cunt drowned me, my love," he whispered and bit Sansa's ear playfully, maintaining the calm and collected persona as he felt his mind clearing up.

With that, he slipped out of her needy depth and allowed his load to drip out of her slit that clenched itself tight again for the next adventure.

I hope something comes out of my seeds.

He didn't fear his actions resulting in something but rather hoped something would happen. The only way he saw the North returning under him was if Sansa could convince Robb Stark, and for that to happen, Robb Stark had to feel the North was safe again—at least until the Others knocked at the Walls.

But there was another reason he attempted this with Sansa, despite being injured. He knew what the Tyrells were going to demand in return for an alliance. And he knew he'd have to agree to save the realm.

Sansa panted hard and sweated drowsily, so Joffrey made her sit on the bed beside him.

Then, like a caring gentleman, he went to the side, still fully naked, and brought her a glass of water.

Sansa smiled warmly while accepting it. Her eyes remained stuck on his cock that had calmed down, still drenched with their fluids and her blood.

Ah, I feel like ruining her more. Joffrey bit his teeth, looking at her nude and ruined body. Let's try again tomorrow.

"My lovely queen, will you warm my bed for me while I lock the door?" He asked her in a gentle voice that almost made her fall back dreamily.

"Of course, my King," She weakly stood up, hugged Joffrey, and then crawled back onto the bed, moving towards the headboard while on all fours. Her ass swayed so perfectly, her dripping petals showing itself openly to him in invitation.

Joffrey licked his dry lips and looked down at his member hardening again, joking at himself. You stay down now, Ser Thirstin.

Joking with himself, he walked over to the door to lock it properly. His mood was so refreshed, and his mind filled with thoughts of looking forward to time with Sansa failed to notice the loud footsteps and voices on the other side of the door.


Just when Joffrey raised his hand to lock the doors, it opened with a loud thump. Right away, the furious face of Cersei came into view.

"Joffrey! Where is she?!" Cersei roared before she could see her son standing naked at the door. "Where is that whore hidin—"

"Mother," Joffrey shamelessly placed his hands on his waist and greeted her proudly while brandishing the sword that slayed the delightful virgin.



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