GOT: The Golden Lion

"It's merely been two weeks," Joffrey muttered in surprise. "I expected it'd take a month at the very least."

"Your plan was perfect, Your Grace. The men faced no challenges, and the gates opened for them on their own. They didn't have to use any exploding scorpions, nor fight large battles," Ser Arthur added and took out the missive from his pocket. "Captain Blood Leech sent this."

Joffrey took the missive and read it. It detailed the wealth the army had gathered by the time of writing it. "That's a lot."

"Should I prepare for departure?" Ser Arthur asked.

Joffrey nodded and looked behind Arya on the bed. She was awake and looking at him, her hands hiding her supple breasts with the sheets. In the end, he decided to take her along. "We depart before noon for Lys, Ser Arthur. Order the Golden Legion to be prepared."

"Very well, Your Grace."

Thud!

Joffrey shut the door again and locked it before turning back to the bed. Seeing the wide, gray eyes of Arya made him feel warm again. So, he pushed down his breeches and walked back to the bed, naked as the day he was born.

"What happened?" Arya asked him. The blush and shame was still there on her face, but after having done it dozens of times, seeing his dangling hard cock didn't seem surprising.

Joffrey crawled onto the bed from the foot side and shifted closer to Arya while pulling away the quilt from her body. Her palm-sized breasts came into view, and then her muscled belly, followed by her fantastic tight cunt.

Without saying anything, he settled between her legs and rubbed his royal cockhead on her entrance, slowly making her feel the heat and prepare her. But he wasn't a brute to thrust in her so dryly. So, he leaned forward and hovered over her face.

"Lys and Tyrosh are now mine."

"That quick?!" Arya exclaimed, gulping at the sensation between her legs.

Joffrey lowered further and licked the pink peak on her breast. He fondled them with both hands, cupping them to form a softer hill. He grounded himself on her cunt at the same time, humping her without sliding inside.

"I told you I'd win easily," Joffrey responded to her at last. "Might as well celebrate the victory since we're awake."

Joffrey kissed her right then, and unlike their first time, Arya reciprocated. It was unknown if there was love, but there was definitely acceptance. She allowed him to probe his tongue inside her delicious lips, and her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing his ripe length closer to her needy petals.

"Ummh…" Arya moaned into his mouth and played a tug of war with his tongue. She caressed his blonde hair with her slender fingers, holding him against her face. It was warm and primal. "Aaaah!"

Joffrey finally slid inside her, displacing her tightness with his veiny, weighty shaft. The clenching walls sifted open to welcome him, and he planted himself deep inside her until nothing more was left. He didn't move, however, and kept kissing her.

The warmth inside Arya, the tightness, and that throbbing pulse was far more enjoyable than just fucking her. He often enjoyed doing her rough, but sometimes, there was more pleasure in going slow. It felt more intimate, blood rushing to his aroused head.

"Arya…" Joffrey stopped kissing her and caressed her face. "After this is over, I'll journey to the North to check the Wildling situation. You'll come with me, won't you?"

"I would love to. Haven't seen my Mother in a long time… or my home." She replied. "Can we bring Sansa?"

Isn't that the plan? Joffrey thought inside. It was a dream to bed the three Stark ladies together, so bringing Sansa along was unquestionable.

"Why not? I'm sure Lady Stark will find joy seeing Joanna."

"Ah!" Arya felt him thrust finally. But she silently smiled and hugged his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. She accepted him wholeheartedly for the time being, letting him plow through her insides like he owned her.

His heated pumps gained strength and speed, and before he knew it, her moans melodiously filled the room. It was a joy to paint her insides white with his seed. But too bad, now was not the time to put one in her womb.

"Ugh!" Joffrey paid no heed to controlling his urges at that time. He simply wanted to mindlessly fuck her and spill inside. Naturally, Arya climaxed too since his length was more than adequate. Each thrust of his rubbed against the clitoris at the same time, leaving her powerless like a doll.

Such a joy of life. Joffrey relished every moment.

Before long, he came with aching shudders and filled her to the brim with both his cock and the batter. But it was a ritual to keep thrusting until he could not longer. It was a ritual to leave her sore and sticky between her slender sweet legs.

Too bad, Val would have loved to join us.

He knew Arya was not yet prepared for that. He had to go slow.

Soon… Very soon.

####

Meereen,

"Khaleesi, Lys, and Tyrosh have fallen!" Ser Jorah reported in a rushed tone. "They fell without a fight."

"Just as the others," Ser Barristan commented. "My Queen, every victory of his comes with little bloodshed, yet the results are decisive. We can no longer afford to take him lightly. He is more cunning, more calculating than any foe we've faced. In truth, he's surpassed even his grandfather in this."

Daenerys silently gazed at the map. Amazed, interested, and threatened. She felt so many things about this man she'd only heard about. She felt the need to know more about him. How can one subjugate the likes of Free Cities without bloodshed? Even Tyrosh, the one meant to be impenetrable?

"How many men did he use?" Daenerys asked. "Did he overwhelm them with numbers?"

"No, Khaleesi. The word is that the gates of Lys and Tyrosh did not fall by force, but opened from within. It would seem Joffrey's schemes ran deeper than we thought, his spies were already in place, weakening the cities before a single sword was drawn. The defenses were not overcome; they were undone," Ser Jorah explained, his own voice shaking at the mention of spies. "Ser Barristan is right. He's too dangerous."

"What of the slave masters? The Conclave?" Daenerys asked.

"All dead," Ser Barristan answered, his voice grave as steel. "The nobles, the Archon, every man who held power—they are all gone, swept away like leaves before a storm."

"A storm it was." Daenerys looked at Jorah. "Yet, you advise me to be gentle on Yunkai and Astapor?"

"Your Grace, Joffrey is a fool. He's sullied his hands with blood, and he will never hold Lys and Tyrosh completely. He'll always fear rebellion."

Daenerys regarded the man with disdain, her voice laced with icy contempt. "You call him a fool when he has achieved more in a fortnight than you have in an entire year? Tell me, where is Joffrey now?"

"He has arrived at Lys," Ser Barristan answered.

"Then I shall visit him and see where his loyalty lies."

Ser Barristan didn't object to her wish anymore. The old man felt confused too as Joffrey was something else in his memories. But he did have some advice for her.

"Your Grace, should he prove his loyalty, I pray you find it within yourself to welcome him to your side…" Ser Barristan paused momentarily. "...as a man."

"Khaleesi, this is folly! You cannot trust him—he is both a Baratheon and a Lannister, two houses steeped in treachery and ambition! His loyalty lies with himself alone." Jorah interrupted hastily. "He will doom us."

Daenerys seemingly ignored Jorah's outburst and looked at Barristan. "Why do you suggest that, Ser Barristan?"

The old knight solemnly replied. "Your Grace, by simply taking the throne one does not become the King. As we saw in Yunkai and Astapor, your absence brought chaos. Westeros is not a singular realm but a tapestry of seven kingdoms. To weave them into a united whole, you require more than just a seat of power—A key that can help you bind the realm together."

"And Joffrey is that key?" She asked further.

At that, the old knight had no definite answer.

"That is for you to find out."

Daenerys hummed and crossed her arms. She looked at her loyal friend, Missandei, and found the Summer Islander nodding.

"Very well, I shall meet him at the Orange Shore. If he dares to refuse my summons for a private parley, I shall burn Lys to the ground with him."

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