Chapter 67 - Tully, Tyrells & Taming I
That night, Joffrey slept well, without any woman to accompany him. Knowing he had a son from Catelyn brought great joy and much-needed relaxation to his nerves. Ever since Margaery ruined his plan and things got delayed, he had been on his toes.
But now, with his blood running through the veins of the future Lord of Winterfell, he truly had the North under his rule. All that remained now was Dorne's acknowledgment, and subjugation of the Iron Islands using Theon.
If things work out, my blood will rule the Seven Kingdoms for centuries to come. Joffrey thought fondly.
It was a truly wonderful night.
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It was the day Joffrey was to march West towards the Reach. But he had to act like a regal King even if he was tired.
So, once he had freshened up, gotten his cock sucked by Mhaegan in the bath, and donned the finest clothes for the journey, he arrived at the Throne Room to hold a short court session to deal with a few important matters.
Crown on his head, Tyrion standing beside him, he went through various nobles and smallfolk coming there to make appeals. As usual, all appeals were petty, or some feud between small noble houses. Most nobles thought that if they had the King on their side they'd have a heavier hand.
Too bad, Joffrey never took any sides. Instead, he always sent one free Kingsguard to go investigate and report back. That way, even the house making the plea could end up being punished in the end.
"Next on the list is Ser Brynden Tully, accompanied by his lordly nephew, Edmure Tully—future Lord Paramount of the Trident," Tyrion read the list in his hands and sighed. His eyes flickered to Joffrey, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Tyrion saw a shadow of Tywin's cunningness in the boy—only with far more malice and none of the restraint. Joffrey's slow plot against Edmure had been months in the making, and the boy had savored every moment of it.
Tyrion offered a tight smile. "Congratulations, Your Grace,"
Joffrey gave a soft smile and merely nodded, watching the famed Knight and the foolish Edmure walk into the hall. Seeing how timid Edmure looked in that room, even refusing to look up, made him secretly sneer.
How could something like this be related to Catelyn? Ah, there was that bitch Lysa too.
"Welcome to King's Landing, Ser Brynden," Joffrey greeted the knight only.
Brynden knelt like a knight and saluted the King. "Thank you for seeing us, Your Grace. I come today to seek your aid in resolving this unpleasant matter."
Joffrey raised his chin and nodded. "How can the crown be of help to you?"
"My…" Brynden felt ashamed to even say it. It was a great wound to the dignity of his house. "My nephew has stumbled into a debt too vast for him to repay. His own folly, I admit, but the wars we've fought have drained every last coin from our coffers. Your Grace, I ask for aid—though it pains me to do so."
Joffrey amusedly eyed Edmure. Of course, he knew about the days the man had spent in Flea Bottom. Varys never failed to inform him of the details.
However, how could he not humiliate the man when he had the chance to?
"Is that so? Lord Edmure, what did you do to fall into such a debt?" Joffrey asked.
"Your Grace, he—"
Joffrey waved his hand dismissively, eyes narrowing at Brynden Tully. "It's his debt, Ser. Let him talk. I want to hear what he's done; How am I to pass my judgment fairly otherwise?"
Brynden Tully glared at his nephew and nudged him with his hand to start speaking.
It wasn't fear but shame that was eating Edmure Tully. The court wasn't crowded, but there were enough people that the matter would get out soon enough and spread to every corner of the realm.
"I… I came to King's Landing for your marriage, Your Grace, and… well, I visited Chataya's establishment," Edmure clenched his fist. "I… bedded some of the women and drank more than my share of wine. It's all a blur, but when I woke the next day, the sun was high and… there were empty bottles everywhere. Women, too, scattered across the bed."
Joffrey let the crowd murmur for a long moment. He very much wanted to simmer the stew before extinguishing the fire.
"Ah, you're a bold one, aren't you? It's no surprise, really—Chataya's establishment does have its allure. So tell me, which of her women did you manage to bed that night?" Joffrey asked.
Edmure looked down in further shame. "I-I don't know their names but… there were two Summer Isles' women and a few others."
No! He bedded the mother and daughter at the same time? Even I haven't done that yet! This is insanity! This is treason! Joffrey's eyes twitched, his glare hardening on the debt-ridden lord. I was going to erase that debt, but no more! I'll drain your blood until you're dead, bastard…
Indeed, Joffrey Baratheon may have perfectly changed his reputation for the good, but deep down he remained one petty King who was as greedy for his desired cunt as he was for the treasured gold. At that point, he was more of a dragon than a lion.
"What an appetite!" Joffrey exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Very well, in recognition of your status, the crown cannot ignore you. I shall grant House Tully a loan, to be repaid over the next thirty years at a leisurely pace. Moreover, with House Frey rightfully disbanded and you still unmarried, I suggest that you wed one of the Lannister ladies. I have an ample number of cousins to choose from."
Edmure looked at his uncle's face. The King's suggestion was too grand and needed further discussion. However, both knew that the King was going to leave for the Reach that same day. This was the only time they had.
"Do you accept these terms?" Joffrey asked again, pushing them to make up their mind right away.
"We accept." Brynden voiced on Edmure's behest.
House Tully was at its weakest right now, after all. Joffrey had a lot of influence on Vale, the North, and other kingdoms that surrounded the Riverlands. Refusing the King now was akin to giving away the title of Lord Paramount.
Joffrey, his smirk widening, clapped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Tyrion. "Uncle, see to it that all the contracts are arranged properly. In these times, every detail must be recorded and sealed with the proper stamps."
Joffrey had no desire to leave any loopholes for the fish fuckers.
"I'll take care of it, Your Grace," Tyrion replied.
With that, Joffrey got up to leave the Throne Room. But instead of going to the armory and getting fitted in his armor, he went to his solar to finish up the last few things. A new raven had arrived, this one from across the Narrow Sea. He really wanted to see what the contents were.
He sat down comfortably in his chair and noticed the Targaryen seal on the folded sheets of paper. He scoffed and cut it away before unwrapping the papers. But to his surprise, the first thing he saw was a whole-page portrait of Daenerys.
"Seven hells! It worked!" Joffrey clenched the paper hard. He really had no hope of succeeding, but receiving this portrait meant he had forged a place for himself in Daenerys' mind or possibly heart too.
She was beautiful, to say the least. Extremely beautiful, in fact. It was somewhat of a side profile from her chest up to her charming face, her white hair in a thick braid going down her back, a little messy as if she had just woken up. Her gown was white, the neck was a deep, V-shape. Her face was soft and serene, with no smile, and yet lovely. The striking purple eyes gained his attention.
"Isn't this too beautiful?" He mumbled, a little doubtful. He expected her to be ruined by now after living in the warm, dry Essos and going through the hell that was her life. "Did she fake this? Like how I added a few extra muscles on mine?"
It was highly possible that the portrait was an exaggeration.
"But if she does look like this…"
Joffrey rubbed his chin and put the portrait down to read the letter. This was the very first that he had received from Daenerys, after all.
'My self-appointed good friend from across the sea. I have received your words and read them well. Your insight into governance has amused me and intrigued me. I have decided to spare you when I approach King's Landing to take what is rightfully mine. Until then, I'll allow you to rule in my stead.
Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion were shown your portraits. Drogon devoured it, however. They do not have much liking for blonde hair, it appears. I suggest you simply leave King's Landing when you see my dragons cast a shadow on the Red Keep…
I hope you heed my word, from Daenerys Targaryen, The First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.'
"This bitch!" Joffrey seethed, his fingers crushing the paper into a crumpled mess. "She dares to command me? This harlot, with her pitiful reptiles! Rightful? What right does she speak of? Has she any inkling of the monstrosity her father was?"
One thing was clear to Joffrey in that instant. Daenerys was a delusional fool surrounded by Yes-men who spoke only what she wanted to hear. She had no idea about Westeros, its culture, or its history, only knowing that her House was supposed to be great and rule the Seven Kingdoms.
"Targaryen blood is the blood of invaders. If she desires what's rightfully hers, why not take that wretched Valyria and claim it for herself."
He slammed his fist on the table and looked back at the portrait of her. Links were being made in his mind, new goals were being set. Being able to subdue this Targaryen whore was key to securing his bloodline on the throne.
I'll give you a throne alright… Right on my cock.
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