Chapter 40 - The Wolf Girl's Bet IV

Just as the door was slammed shut, Joffrey also fell into his seat. He poured himself a glass of water to rid the headache. Though he couldn't help but question what just happened. He wasn't even a whoremonger like his 'father' and yet his name was being ruined somehow. Even his sister doubted him.

Seven hells! What is wrong with my family!? He cursed.

Knock! Knock!

"Your Grace," Val called from outside the door just then. "Lord Tywin Lannister has arrived and wishes to have an audience."

This entire day is cursed! Joffrey felt a pulsating headache already. Did that whore Margaery curse me last night?

"Send him in," Joffrey ordered and stood up. This was the least amount of respect he was willing to give the old lion.

As always, the old lion strode into the room with an oppressive aura. His hands behind his back, his eyes narrow and sharp. There wasn't an ounce of leaking emotions from his expressions—consistent like the never-changing plains of the Dothraki sea.

"Your Grace." Tywin offered a curt nod in greeting, where most would have already knelt. "I extend my congratulations on your forthcoming wedding."

"Thank you, Grandfather. Please, take a seat," Joffrey commanded, his tone imperious yet tinged with a rare hint of respect. No matter his usual disdain, he recognized the necessity of having the old lion at his side, now more than ever. "I was hoping to have a word with you."

Tywin glanced with an amused expression as he sat down. "My ears are open."

Joffrey shifted in his seat uncomfortably. A ruse to keep his foes underestimating him. "If… If I ask you to be my Lord Hand in the future. Will you accept it?"

"I thought you liked Tyrion as the Lord Hand," Tywin asked back. He was never the one to give anyone anything that easily. Unless he could gain something in return, it was useless to help.

Joffrey sighed wearily. "I do like him, Grandfather. He's a brilliant administrator. A quick-minded man who has sorted this city out to finally start earning profits. However, I sometimes fear his vices—they can get out of hand at times."

Forgive me, Uncle Tyrion, but this is necessary to open your eyes. I gave you Knighthood, fame, and the recognition you desired. It's better you understand how easy it is to lose all that. Joffrey acted brilliantly to make the old lion start pondering about what his most despised son did to make the King this annoyed.

Go on and investigate. Joffrey knew Tywin was planning on asking around soon. I hope you don't disappoint me.

"I foresaw this, Your Grace. I acknowledge Tyrion's occasional competencies. However, in the long term, he has consistently proven himself a failure," Tywin responded, accepting the offer with respect. "It will be an honor to fulfill the duties of the Hand of the King, should you choose me for the position."

Joffrey smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Grandfather. Oh, one more thing. I was hoping that we can have a heavy presence of Lannister soldiers during my wedding feast tomorrow—In case something happens."

Tywin was no fool. He could smell a plot without even trying. The young King had planned something big. But he also understood it was better not to pry in too much. This wasn't the young and naive brat he once knew.

"I shall ensure my troops cooperate fully with your Golden Legion, Your Grace." Tywin chose to help this time.

Joffrey smiled once again, one that hid a thousand plots and curses. "You must be tired after your long journey, Grandfather. You should have some rest before the night's feast."

With so many noble guests already in King's Landing, almost every single night was a feast by now. Thankfully, the bill was being footed by the Tyrells.

"I need somewhere to relax." Joffrey sighed and stood up, grabbing his sheathed sword. Seeing it was almost evening, he decided to find his favorite toy. "Sansa will do."

With the aim to clear her worries about his wedding, and also to satiate his thirst—figuratively and literally—he set out once again.

Followed by Val alone, he headed towards Sansa's bedroom and opened it. But there was nobody inside. Frowning, he looked at a maid walking by timidly, head held low. "Where is Sansa?"

"Y-Your Grace, Lady Sansa has gone to the Great Sept of Baelor to offer prayers."

Joffrey was on the verge of bursting into anger. Nothing had been going well since morning. "What of Arya Stark?"

"Her… I don't know, Your Grace," the maid responded.

"I know," Val interjected and waved at the maid to leave them alone. "She's hiding in an unused small hall. Training with her sword alone."

Joffrey smiled devilishly at that. "Is that so? Lead me there, Val."

"Of course." Val happily obliged. She already knew what her conqueror desired. Although she hated not having the man all for herself each night, she didn't mind his various partners. In a way, she sometimes hoped she'd be asked to join.

Walking, Joffrey looked at his tall and beautiful Kingsguard. His hunger for pleasure heightened already, he wondered if he should just take her to his bedchamber. But eventually, he decided to focus on taming the wolf girl instead.

"What's the best way to tame this wolf girl, Val? What do you think?" He asked.

"Hmm…" Val thought about it deeply. "She's ferocious like us northern girls. I suggest a good beating will teach her where she belongs."

"And where is it that she belongs?" Joffrey asked and suddenly got closer to Val before sliding his hand under her cloak, gripping her rear, and squeezing her ass. This was the real delight in having her as his Kingsguard.

Val giggled and hungrily looked at her man. "Under your cock, of course."

Joffrey laughed and stopped fondling her. But he cherished this woman enough to notice her needs. "Come to my bedchamber tonight. I have some safety-related things to… discuss."

"With pleasure, Your Grace," she responded and finally led him deeper into the castle through a few twisting paths. At last, she stopped in front of large twin-doors. "This is it, my King. The hall is used to store old furniture and items."

"Useful," Joffrey smirked and clutched his sword tight. "Wait for me here. If I call for you, enter and subdue the girl."

"Good luck." She nodded.

Joffrey quickly pushed the doors open and looked inside. It was a large hall with enough space in the middle. There were a few large windows at the end that let in plentiful daylight. As for Arya Stark, she was dancing with her sword alone in the middle. Unaware that Joffrey had arrived, she continued to practice her sword art.

Joffrey silently admired her form. Her masculine black breeches were tight around her legs while her brown, full-sleeved tunic was loose, tucked into the waistband. Her hair was short, and her feet were nimble as she danced. Not much could be seen from her clothes, but Joffrey could imagine plenty.

Lithe and short. I'll take my time breaking this one slowly. Joffrey thought.

Having seen the strong Eddard Stark before, and the beautiful, voluptuous tall Catelyn, he couldn't help but wonder if Arya was even trueborn. She was nowhere close to her parents—not in height or feminine size. Despite having grown plenty, she remained the shortest among her siblings.

Soon, Arya's panting breaths became audible. Her pristine ivory skin glowed from all that sweat and sunlight. Her movements soon began to show signs of fatigue.

Joffrey watched her all the way, undressing her with his eyes already. Consider it a King's hobby, or devious pleasure—there was joy in seeing a woman undress for the first time after imagining her for days. To see what lay hidden under those clothes was like unwrapping a gift.

"Haaah~" Arya gasped eventually and stopped, out of breath. She fell on her knees.

"Marvelous!" Joffrey made his presence known and clapped his hands. "I'm really impressed, my Lady."

Arya's head turned abruptly. She seethed. "Joffrey!"

So wild. Joffrey chuckled in his heart.

"Is that how you address your King?" Joffrey asked.

"You are not my King!"

"Last I remember, Lady Catelyn bent the knee." He barely held himself back from laughing, imagining Catelyn sucking him off. "I saved Winterfell, destroyed House Frey and House Bolton. My men, to this day, live in Winterfell protecting your mother. They even found your lost wolf."

"Nymeria?!" Arya's ears perked up. "D-Don't you dare do anything to her!"

"I won't." Joffrey shook his head, circling around Arya until he stood squarely before her. Then, he also sat down on the floor a meter away from her. "I understand the importance of making a good impression, and I realize it was all spoiled when we had that foolish fight by the riverbank. I was young and foolish—I wish I could turn back time and prevent it. Sansa's wolf didn't deserve to die… that innocent creature was wronged."

Arya glared at Joffrey with pure hatred. "I don't care. Leave my sister alone if you want to live."

This naive girl. I can have her beheaded for threatening the king. Joffrey tried to keep himself calm and collected.

"I won't. I love her," Joffrey replied. Honestly, he didn't know if it could be called love. Yes, he wanted to keep Sansa as his own forever. Yes, he'd be enraged if someone else were to lay their hands on Sansa. But was it love? Only the gods knew.

Arya scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What a benevolent lover. Is that why you're marrying that smiling bitch?"

Ah, now I like her. Joffrey found common grounds for hating Margaery.

"It hasn't happened yet." Joffrey solemnly smiled.

Arya felt somewhat shaken by that smile. "What are you planning, Joffrey? Why are you here?"

"I'm planning nothing, Arya. Can't the man of this house find his guests to have a chat?" Joffrey replied as he looked at her sword. "I really admire your spirit. You learned to swing a sword… a peculiar sword."

"It doesn't concern you. If you're done, you can leave," she barked like a wild wolf. It fit her nature perfectly.

Joffrey sighed and stood up. But instead of leaving, he walked to the large window. "Lady Catelyn no longer hates me. Sansa loves me. The North has accepted me—Why do you still abhor me, Arya?"

"Abhor? I hate you! I want to kill you, Joffrey!" Arya growled and jumped to her feet. She raised her needle sword at Joffrey's back. "You killed my father—so cruelly!"

"It wasn't me. It was Cersei," Joffrey replied without looking back. Sansa had accepted his lie easily, but he knew Arya wouldn't. "It was all Cersei's plan."

"Lies! It was you who changed his sentence from taking the black to beheading!" Arya bellowed at that, the emotions that she had kept dormant for so long flaring out. Her enemy was right in front of her, alone, his back facing her. She just wanted to pierce through his heart.

I'll have to rubbish my way out of this.

Joffrey shook his head and looked back. His expression was serious, eyes red. While cursing his past self, he stepped closer to Arya and let the tip of her needle press against his chest.

"Don't be a fool, Arya. It was all orchestrated by her—all of it! She wanted chaos, so she could pull the strings from the shadows, ruling in my name without question. I... I had no choice. They see me as expendable. Tommen is a better puppet compared to me, easily manipulated."

Firmness in Arya's eyes wavered after his emotion-filled speech. "Let's say you're not lying. What does it change?!"

"My loathing for Cersei Lannister and Tywin Lannister," Joffrey sneered, catching Arya off guard. "I was foolish once, but I soon saw through their schemes. They held all the power then, and still do now. But I fought back with all I had, and look at me now—I have an army under me, Kingdoms sworn to me! Soon, their heads will adorn my walls—their very existence chokes me!"

This time, he wasn't even lying. He truly was naive before, and now he saw his grandfather as an enemy. Although Cersei was almost tamed, she remained dangerous and ambitious.

Arya narrowed her gaze and tried to see if he was lying. The more she thought about it the more she failed to see a fault in him. Although she still hated him, but not enough to kill him anymore.

"What will you do after killing them?" Arya asked.

"Unite the Seven Kingdoms," Joffrey replied. He knew he could sway her more by mentioning Jon Snow and his mission up north. But he felt it'd ruin the momentum. "You can be a part of it, Arya Stark. I'll need brave warriors by my side."

Arya mockingly chuckled. "Of course you do. You can barely lift that sword. I bet all the victories you earned in the North were earned by your commanders."

This is my chance.

Joffrey, as if offended, stepped back and unsheathed his sword. "Are you sure, Arya Stark? It's not just you who's been training."

"Hah, a dog can try to roar all it wants, but it remains a barking dog," Arya mocked.

Joffrey's brows furrowed, showing a hint of anger. "And you expect me to take you seriously with that thing… is that even a sword?"

"It kills just fine, Joffrey." Arya took a fighting position. "Want to find out?"

Joffrey scoffed and reciprocated, taking a stand. "Don't complain when you lose."

"Then how about a bet?" Arya suggested suddenly. The smirk on her lips hinted at her confidence in winning. "If I win, you will let me and Sansa go back to Winterfell."

Such a naive thing. Joffrey maintained serious expressions while chuckling in his heart. He knew about Arya's prowess. She was nowhere near a threat to him. Lured and trapped like a fish; she sure has Tully blood in her.

"Fine," Joffrey grunted. "What if I win? What do I get?"

Arya froze for a moment. She couldn't think of anything that Joffrey could have. She had no money, no power to offer. A bet only makes sense if the stakes are balanced.

"Umm… If you win, I won't ask to take Sansa back ever again," Arya offered.

"Hah, you consider those equal stakes?" Joffrey scoffed and stood up properly. "Don't waste my time, Arya Stark."

"Then what do you want?" Arya asked back.

Hook, line, and sinker! Joffrey had her right where he wanted now.

But he took his time to think about it. The whole time he maintained his eyes on her. He occasionally looked at her whole body, up and down. Her slender figure wasn't as attractive as Catelyn's, but taming her was an achievement in his heart.

"Alright, if you win, you and Sansa can go back to Winterfell," Joffrey said, getting to the good part. "If I win, you will remove all your clothes, kneel, and pleasure me with your mouth."

Slow and steady, Joffrey. We don't want her to back out now. Joffrey wanted to ram his cock in her tight cunt right then and there. But he knew it was impossible. For now, at least.

"W-What?!" Arya stammered, her feet beckoning on their own. "Are you insane?"

"What else do you have to offer?" Joffrey shrugged and started leaving for the door. "I knew it was a waste of time. You'd lose in any case."

Say it, girl. Say it! Joffrey took his sweet time to leave. Where is that Stark pride?

"In your dreams, Joffrey! I accept the bet."

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