Joffrey finished his training with the burning sword, drenched in sweat and dirt. He quickly took a bath first and then plotted his next steps for the night.

  "Where's Arya?" He asked Val, keeping her close as his choice of Kingsguard.

  "Oh, you're really going to try?" Val teased with a bright smile. "She's usually practicing with her little needle at this hour. Shall I fetch her for you?"

  "No, I'll go to her myself. But you, Val—I have a task for you. One that's bound to make my night... most enjoyable. First, though, you'll need to py a little game." Joffrey strode beside her, voice low as he shared every detail.

  The whole way, Val giggled endlessly, her own body teasing her with goosebumps. It was in her nature to be unrestrained and wild. It was her personality to enjoy things less ordinary. "Heh, I see now how you cimed the Seven Kingdoms twice over. A sharp mind you have, my King."

  Joffrey chuckled and softly spped on Val's armor-covered hips. "Go on now, make your King proud."

  "As you command."

  ####

  "Ha!"

  "Huh!"

  Arya danced on her feet, her bde cutting through the air with a sound. Her speed had grown, and her precision had peaked. But she still knew she couldn't fight someone face to face, especially not against rge bdes. Her sword was not meant to cut through armor but to stab through narrow gaps.

  Although she had become a Knighted woman, she still refused to wear a heavy set of armor or those pompous robes. Still stuck with a simple loose tunic and tight breeches, she only cared about efficiency.

  "Agh!" She groaned like a seasoned fighter, stabbing enemies she imagined. Her short, ear-length hair had become drenched and swayed in thick locks, her eyes furiously focused.

  Cp! Cp!

  "You've gotten much better, I can see."

  "Scared?" Arya smirkingly asked back without looking towards the door to her secret training area. An empty room on the edge of the Red Keep, the same pce where Joffrey first tamed her.

  "Hah, are you sure about that?" Joffrey stepped in, drew his sword out, and coated it with fmes by his mere intent.

  Arya froze abruptly and fully looked at Joffrey, her eyes glued on the bde. That was a common reaction from all the folks, even those who'd seen his bzing sword before. It was far too magical to simply dismiss as common.

  "Funting now?" Arya sheathed her sword.

  "Well." Joffrey strode towards her, putting away his sword too. As he neared her, she backstepped, so he continued to get closer until there was no room left. "It's worth funting, isn't it?"

  "Ah!"

  Arya's yelp was ignored as Joffrey wrapped his arms around her thin waist and lifted her body with ease, sitting her on the windowsill behind her. Though his arms never left the hold on her waist, soft and nimble.

  Arya, slightly wary of falling back through the window, looked up at his confident face. Begrudgingly, she had already accepted the fact in her heart that Joffrey was just a handsome devil. And to her dismay, the older Joffrey got the more masculine and better he looked.

  "Any reason you came looking for me, Your Grace?"

  Joffrey nodded, squeezing his body between her spread legs. Even while on the windowsill he loomed over her, a full head above hers. "Why not? A king has every right to inspect the knights who serve him."

  "Inspect?" Arya hummed, feeling his rough hands taking the liberty of gently lifting her loose tunic and digging underneath to feel the naked warm skin of her waist. "Does the Hound and your uncle get the same inspection?"

  "His name is Sandor Clegane, and no. I might have, but sadly they have no cunt, and even if they had, their faces are rather… revolting."

  "Pff… Damn you, I pictured Sandor in flowery robes," Arya chortled, holding back a full ughter.

  Joffrey frowned too, imagining it. "Ugh… truly revolting."

  By then, Joffrey's hands had completely gone wild, diving up into her tunic at the front, palms spread over her bosom, fingers spread, teasing her underarms, while his thumb softly rubbed her tight nipples.

  "Ummh…" Arya hummed with a low exhale. Her hands instinctively gripped Joffrey's. Not to push him away but to hold him there, avoiding falling back in response to his touch. Joffrey had been the only man she'd shared a bed with and despite so much time, he was still her only experience.

  Joffrey continued to watch her squirm as his hands bored on her breasts which had become a handful. If she'd been in the North, Catelyn would have found a groom for her by now. But Joffrey, by anointing her as a Knight, made her his exclusive cocksleeve.

  In truth, there was a true desire. Arya possessed a cunt among the tightest he'd explored, and at the same time, he felt a little annoyed by her actions in his previous life, or alternate at that point.

  Seven Hells if I let you kill the Night King. It's mine, a King's duty… Yours is to just dance on my cock.

  Behind that heated desire was Joffrey's greed for absolute control over future events. And being a man graced with a crown and looks to match, subduing women with his royal shaft was far easier than anything else.

  Sword for men.

  Cock for whores.

  "I longed for this," Joffrey lied through his teeth. He yearned nothing for he was balls deep in Daenerys every day, every night in Essos. "Arya."

  Growing brazen with his hands, Joffrey ended up lifting her loose tunic off her head, leaving her completely bare above her waist. He admired her with a heated gaze, her short frame, that lithe figure, handful tits, and sweat-glistening pale skin.

  His palm caressed her skin gently, from her breasts to her toned belly. From her shoulders to her waist. At the same time, he leaned down, his face nearing hers.

  "Look at me." Joffrey lifted her face by the chin and connected smoothly. It felt like a feathery touch, wet as his lips pyed with her inviting ones. Their faces pivoted, and tongues danced.

  Val should be on her way here. Joffrey pyed his game smoothly and without ending the kiss, moved his hands to untie his own breeches. He pushed it down alongside the innerwear and like a jutting rod, his hardened, vein-bulging cock sprang free.

  Without a care, Joffrey grabbed one of Arya's hands and guided it to hold his virile manhood. The mere sensation of her delicate, slender fingers barely wrapping around his girth was heavenly. Even delightful as she began stroking him without asking or guidance.

  Their heated breaths mingling, their lust rising, Joffrey waited no more. He ended the kiss and untied Arya's tight breeches. Giving her no warning, he slipped his fingers under the waistband and pulled down. To his pleasure, Arya hugged his neck and lifted her pert bottom to allow him to completely remove her breeches and small clothes.

  In moments, Arya sat on the windowsill completely bare. Her tight cunt was visible between her shapely slender legs, that rosy entrance was devoid of any hair nearby. Joffrey's greed and need grew sharply as his cock throbbed between her tight fingers.

  Not wanting to wait for long, he kissed her again, and rubbed her hot entrance with two fingers, smearing it with her juices. It was clear that Arya desired him as much as he did her.

  Time for the main course.

  "Hold me tightly, Arya."

  "What? Wh-aaaaah!"

  Joffrey abruptly wrapped his hands around her waist, palms spread on her shapely ass. He pulled her in and lifted her in the air in one fell swoop. But then he went a step further and pced his arms under each of Arya's knees, and then pulled her up even higher. Pstering their sweaty bodies together, Arya's core was right where he wanted it; dangling in front of his cock.

  With ease, he kept her hitched in the air, feet dangling on the sides of his arms, both his palms tightly gripping her asscheeks. In such a position, she felt utterly folded, her thighs and the side of her waist squeezed together. All she had to hold on to was Joffrey's neck, which she hugged.

  "Aaaaaah… Ohhh! Joff… Aaaaah!"

  Joffrey gave no warning. With a flick of one hand underneath her ass, he aligned his cock on her cave of wonders and rammed in like a sword a little too much for its sheath. He felt every inch of her tight walls hugging him, squeezing him with silk-like softness yet warmth that made him crave madness.

  Half in, when he could no longer continue, he pulled back his hips and gave it another go, going deeper, but still not there. It felt like taking her maidenhood once again, the way she hugged the life out of his neck and her agonizing moans near his ears made it clear.

  Arya was feeling it all too well. The insane stretch inside her cunt, threatening to cleave her in half like a giant's sword. Yet, it felt arousing, welcoming, and addicting. The threatening tugs of pain slowly eased away with his thrusts, her juices lubricating the sinful action.

  Cck!

  Oh? They're here?

  Joffrey heard the lock on the door move. With great intent, he brazenly turned around so Arya's naked back was in direct view of the door. He then began pounding into her like his personal toy, lifting her and throwing her down, impaling her to the hilt with each plunge.

  As if her cunt had been molded perfectly to his size, he felt incredibly aroused every time he thrust inside her. So warm, it made him reach that edge of climax in no time. Her weight, so easy to py with, ensured he could move her to his desire.

  "Ah, ah, oooooh! Yes, this is…" Arya moaned on the brink of insanity. Each of his thrusts battered against her womb, kissing her cervix with threatening plunges. It borderlined pain but the sexual stimution was higher.

  The loud squelches mixed with the moans and the musky scent washed over the room. The sound of his long shaft rubbing against her walls, and Joffrey's grunts spread. The two of them held nothing back.

  Mindless, rough, deep. For someone looking inside from the door, Joffrey's thrusting cock was completely visible. And to showcase it even more, Joffrey arched himself slightly backward, raising Arya's ass higher and in a better direct view.

  How her cunt hugged his girth and struggled to contain him. All that musky, messy, dribbling combination of frothy precum and her juices y visible to the onlookers.

  Let's see.

  Joffrey gnced towards the door from the corner of his eyes while pretty much walking around the room with Arya in his arms, fucking her out of her mind.

  There she is. Ah, are those tears? Joffrey noticed Sansa's frozen figure in the door frame, her hands clenching the hem of her gown and her eyes watery. Let's finish this then.

  "Mmmmm… Mph!" Arya squeezed her face into Joffrey's shoulder while her arms clenched tight around his neck. She felt so bare, so open, stretched, and full at the same time. She felt ashamed of her cries but she couldn't help it.

  The involuntary spasms were endless. The dizzying sensations announced her approaching climax. She writhed, jumping in his arms on her own, taking his plundering cock to the deepest part. She gyrated her hips to let his girth scrape her most sensitive spots.

  "Ooooh… I'm about to… Ah, ah!"

  Joffrey felt her cunt clenching tighter, gripping him with sudden squeezes. He plundered her harder in response, edging himself towards his own release.

  "Aaaaaah~" Arya let out a moan like never before. Her hips swayed like ripples, her entire body giving sudden jerks. Her passion-filled juices erupted all over her invader's cock, his plunging rod slowly churning out her juices like a piston.

  Joffrey furiously fucked Arya sore until she lolled in his arms, dangling almost lifelessly. His hands on her ass pulled her cunt into each thrust, rhythmically smacking flesh together.

  "Gah!" Joffrey finally felt on the edge and pulled out of her. With ease, he pced her on the floor and stroked himself furiously, not close to her mouth, however. No, this little deed was meant for public viewing.

  Arya opened her mouth nonetheless.

  "Aargh…" Joffrey alerted her and felt his virile batter course through his rigid funnel and spray out like a single, sticky, thick stream. The first pump painted her face white, from her forehead to her lips. Then came the second and third, coating her chin, her tits, and finally, her hair.

  Joffrey continued to squeeze out the st of the drops and graciously settled his cockhead in her welcoming open mouth, allowing her to taste her King too.

  And time for dramatics.

  Just as Arya began suckling his calming shaft, he tilted his body slightly. That way, Arya's open eyes instantly noticed the door behind Joffrey was open and there stood Sansa in a tearful mess.

  "S-Sansa?!" Arya cried and jumped to her feet. "Sansa, this isn't… I mean…"

  "I hate you!" Sansa shouted back from the door and ran away.

  Joffrey hid his smirk and, like a gentleman, grabbed Arya's clothes so she could get dressed. Then he put on his own breeches and picked up his sword. Though, he purposefully didn't wipe himself clean for he had a devious pn.

  "Joffrey, San—"

  "Don't bother with her." Joffrey dismissed Arya's fears. "Do you honestly believe she stayed idle while I was gone? She's been sleeping around with Lady Merryweather and a few of Chataya's whores. I'll speak with her."

  Arya was shocked by that revetion. "She did?"

  Joffrey shrugged and began leaving. "I'll go find Sansa."

  ####

  "Why? Why Arya too?"

  Sansa ran back to her bedchamber, tears sliding down her cheeks as she smmed the door behind her and fell into her bed.

  "I didn't care if it was Daenerys. I didn't care if it was any other woman. But why Arya?"

  Knock! Knock!

  "Sansa?"

  Sansa quickly sat up and wiped away her tears, though it was hard to get rid of the redness around her eyes. Her pale, beautiful face had become a gorgeous view of a troubled princess. No man in the realm could look at her and not continue to leer. Although with an average bosom, she was tall and had a slender waist, the birthing hips offset any fws she had. Adding her long, copper hair to the equation, she was a realm-renowned beauty—all belonging to one single man.

  Sansa was aware of her beauty and hoped Joffrey wouldn't look elsewhere with her there. Then came Daenerys, who was truly beautiful even to her eyes. So, she hoped Joffrey would never look elsewhere with the two of them.

  But now, even Arya, who she considered not that much of a beauty, or even a dy. Was this jealousy or pride? She wasn't sure herself.

  "Your Grace." She restrained her anger and responded to her husband in all but name.

  "Sansa, don't cry."

  Sansa recoiled as she felt Joffrey's gentle palm caress her cheeks, wiping away her tears and lifting her face up by the chin.

  "You were not meant to see that, Sansa. I apologize."

  "What do you mean? Was it some secret you hoped to keep? That you've been bedding my sister?" Sansa shed out, fighting against her instincts of being submissive to him as she'd always been.

  A wave of panic spread across Sansa's heart as she noticed Joffrey's expression turn from concerned to cold. She feared the return of the old Joffrey she had almost forgotten.

  "I-I didn't mean to shout, Your Grace. I'm just…" She tried to apologize. But she felt Joffrey's hand slide from her chin to grab her throat, and she felt his grip harden a bit.

  "You…" Joffrey sneered, shoving her back until the edge of the bed caught her legs. "You're angry because I sought Arya's company while I was out fighting battles in Highgarden? You? Did you really think I wouldn't learn of your deeds?"

  Sansa's heart sank. Not just panic, now there was fear sweeping through her. "Y-Your Grace…"

  "You dared to disgrace yourself, Sansa, not just with Lady Merryweather but with common whores? I thought you were meant to be a dy of virtue, of refinement, not a creature of debauchery and shame! And now, Lady Merryweather demands I clean up the mess you made, take responsibility for your actions? How dare you?" Joffrey bellowed at her face, angry eyes carving holes through her vulnerable mind.

  His fury darkened as he leaned closer. "Arya? She stood by me in battles, fought for my cause, and saved my life when no one else dared. And now you expect me to cast her aside like some useless thing? Tell me, Sansa, is that not the same as Daenerys commanding me to abandon you? Shall I bow to that madness too?"

  "N-No… Please forgive me, Your Grace. I was… I was lost and I longed for your company and…" Sansa began crying again, caught red-handed with her secret. "I…"

  "I'm disgusted, Sansa. I intended to wed you at the Sept of Baelor, to make you my queen. And now? You've become a joke even the whores of King's Landing ugh at." Joffrey loosened his grip on her throat and stepped away from her. "Aye, I bedded Arya. Aye, I enjoyed every moment of it. But I kept it behind closed doors, ensuring no fool spoke my name in jest. You, Sansa, ruined it all. You… Call the maids and have them pack your things. You're returning to Winterfell."

  Thud!

  "No! No, Your Grace!" Sansa fell to her knees suddenly and hugged Joffrey's leg, distraught, scared of being sent back to the cold North. To be sold off to some fat lord because she'd already birthed a bastard daughter.

  "I beg you, Your Grace. Forgive me, please! I… I'll do anything… I don't mind Arya. Please, just give me a chance."

  Joffrey shook his head, sneering. "How many times must I remind you that everything I do is for the good of the realm and the crown? I loved you, Sansa. I cherished House Stark—your mother, Arya, all of you. You're the only family I have left. And yet, you disgrace yourself, lying with common whores. A future queen, debasing herself in such filth. Getting her cunt spread by a whore's fingers."

  Sansa shivered, her eyes wide open, tears forming nonstop. She hugged his leg tighter, mumbling curses at herself. "I'm stupid! I'm a fool! I beg you, just this once, Your Grace. Just this once!"

  "I trusted you," Joffrey continued speaking, his voice masterfully crafted to sound pitiful and sad. "Here I hoped to put another babe in you and further my bloodline. But you sleep with whores, what does that make you? Are the smallfolk going to call our daughter a whore's spawn?"

  "I made a terrible mistake, Your Grace. Please, just grant me one more chance—I beg you."

  "Very well." Joffrey showed a hint of concern. He reached for her head and caressed her auburn hair. "You have disappointed me but it seems I love you far too much to give you up."

  "Please, forgive me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right and earn your trust once more."

  Joffrey tried his best to hide his smirk and while caressing her hair, he used his other hand to loosen his breeches. With ease he pushed down his waistband, revealing his fccid cock, still sthered with the musky, viscous culmination of Arya and his climax.

  Only now did Sansa realize how strong the scent of sex was, oozing from between Joffrey's legs. Already on her knees, her face was merely inches away from his crotch, and now it dangled in front of her eyes.

  "I need proof, my Sansa. Proof that I still have your heart," Joffrey demanded, taking a step closer to her so his slowly growing cockhead touched her forehead. "Will you…"

  "With love!" Sansa excimed and without even using her hands, opened her mouth and took in all of his barely hardened length, disappearing it between her lips while her tongue attacked him inside.

  "Aghk!" Sansa greedily tried to coat him with her spit and swallow it. But the balmy scent and the sticky, creamy taste made her gag. Yet, she suckled her lover with furious need, trying to prove her desire for him. She felt him grow big inside her mouth, from half mast to eventually full mast, which she couldn't fully take in.

  "Good…" Joffrey complimented, guiding her face with his hand gripping her hair and his hips gifting slow thrusts. He smiled, smirked, and proudly looked down at her focused head.

  Complete submission. That's your destiny, my Sansa. Know your pce and you'll be the happiest woman in the realm.

  "I… I want you to make up with Arya." Joffrey ordered her, filling her mouth until he felt the back of her throat. "I want the two of you to be my loyal, obedient companions. I cannot have you both at odds. That is why tonight..."

  Joffrey let the words sink in before finishing.

  "To understand each other deeply, I want you to join me and Arya in the bed." Joffrey felt her jolt, but he didn't pull out of her throat. Instead, he pressed harder. "You'd do that, wouldn't you, Sansa? To be my loyal woman?"

  And finally, Joffrey pulled out of her tight throat. Long, liquidy stands of her spit stretched from her lips and his cockhead, making a long arch in the air. What a beautiful sight it was, he thought.

  Wanting to save himself for the night, he stopped fucking her throat and made Sansa stand up. Like a caring husband, he wiped his sleeves on her face to clean her. Then he tucked his breeches back.

  Still unsure? Joffrey noticed a hint of reservation on her face.

  "But." He added and pulled her between his arms, one hand around her slender waist and the other caressing her belly. "I am a king blessed with looks, and it makes ruling far easier. Sometimes, a king must indulge in the company of highborn women, giving them a night they will never forget. It is not love, no. It is my duty as king."

  Before Sansa could respond, Joffrey rubbed her belly with a slight press. "This is my vow, Sansa, and it's a w I impose upon myself. The only woman whose belly I shall fill with my heirs is you. No other woman will dare take your pce. Have I not shown you that with Margaery?"

  Sansa nodded strongly, a small smile forming on her lips. The one thing she relished the most was feeling her King's love. Be it verbal or physical, she cherished it the most.

  "That's why, I ask you not to fear other women. Stand with pride for being the only woman who can birth me heirs. As for Arya, I may cherish her, but she will never be the mother of my children, nor will she ever be a queen—she has no such desires either. It would please me greatly, however, if you could show her gratitude; since she saved my life and steadied me through my pain during the battles. Because of Arya, I'm yours, Sansa."

  And with that, Joffrey eased in and pnted a soft kiss on Sansa's forehead. Then he pulled her in for a tight embrace, finally unmasking his smile as no one could see.

  Just a few more days before I feast on all three of you. I can't wait for Catelyn's arrival.

  "I'm sorry, Joffrey," Sansa whispered, her voice trembling. She clung to him, her heart heavy with regret. "I was blind, couldn't see... you're not like the rest. Your burdens are greater, so much heavier than a knight or lord's."

  Aye, so many cunts to fill.

  Feeling victorious, Joffrey broke the hug and looked at her face seriously. "I must return to my duties now. But I'll see you tonight, along with Arya. You'll be waiting, won't you?"

  "I'll do as you command, Joffrey. I will be there."

  Joffrey pecked her forehead again. "I can't wait to fill your womb again, my Sansa."

  That earned the brightest smile ever on Sansa's face. "But Arya will be there—"

  "Oh, she can have everything, but not my seed. That belongs only to you, my beautiful queen."

  He 'failed' to mention Daenerys already had a swollen belly with his heir growing inside.

  Judge me all you want, R'hllor, my ways are efficient and delightful.

  Mumbling to R'hllor, Joffrey left Sansa's bedchamber.

  ####

  Castle Bck was no longer merely called Castle Bck. No, it had become a vilge instead. Although still manned by the Night's Watch, the dwellers were the Wildling settlers who had followed Mance Rayder down south with Joffrey's permission.

  It had been years since the deal between Joffrey and Mance, and by now thousands of Wildling men, women, and children had adapted to the southern lifestyle. Many wildling beauties were picked by nobles as wives. Strong Wildling men were picked by a few Lords as their loyal soldiers.

  It was a slow process but the results were noticeable. Even the giants were put to use, aiding the Northern Lords in constructing strongholds to be used against the White Walkers someday. Taking advantage of the situation, a few giants were brought further south to rebuild Moat Cailin, a seat Joffrey pnned to bestow on his eventual son with Sansa. Aye, he had no pns on stopping before she gave him one.

  The Twins was already ruined, and its lord was Ser Arthur, the Unsullied General. The Reach was already Tommen's, and the nds that once belonged to House Bolton were given to the Starks, so Joffrey could have his son with Catelyn rule mightily.

  The Reach, the North, the Crownnds, the Stormnds, and the Rivernds were all his to control directly or by proxy. The Vale remained unsteady, and Dorne had joined him with Daenerys on his side.

  Everything seemed to be going according to the grand pn.

  Joffrey Baratheon dreamt of being the most powerful King in history with a life so debaucherous and exciting that songs would be made about him centuries from now.

  The goal was almost in sight.

  Almost, because a man appeared in Castle Bck.

  A man who should have been dead.

  "Raise the gates! Raise the fucking gates! It's Jon!"

  Eddison Tollett shouted at the top of his lungs. At his command the gates that gave access through the wall opened, letting the man enter.

  "Jon?!" Samwell Tarley ran at speed, dragging his fat frame to the gates. "It's really you!"

  Curly hair, an overgrown beard, short stature, and pale skin. Samwell recognized his friend and lunged over to embrace him.

  "We thought you were dead, Jon! H-How? Did you really—Oh, never mind that! You need something warm first. You're so cold!" Samwell grabbed Jon's arm, practically pulling him toward the shelter.

  Quickly, Samwell brought Jon inside the castle walls. But to his surprise, Jon sat farthest away from the warm hearth.

  Too excited to think twice, Samwell brought him a bowl of hot soup.

  "The Lord Commander must be—Oh! Jon, what happened to your eyes? They're so... blue!"