Cuts and bruises covered him slowly. The hole in his stomach bled profusely, aching like nothing he'd felt before.
"Haaaa!"
He roared, he groaned, he gave it his all. This second life, he didn't want to lose again.
"You… will… too… vanquish!" Joffrey fainted a straight stab and changed the trajectory midway, slashing the sword downward, hitting the Night King's right wrist.
Thud!
The Night King's right hand was neatly chopped off and fell to the ground. Seeing that, the Night King frowned for a moment.
"Haha!" Joffrey took that chance and unsheathed a second sword from his hip. Night King had never realized that the sword in Joffrey's hand wasn't his main sword, but a simple, common steel blade. "I have my plans, you fucking ice shit!"
With his true Valyrian steel blade, burning crimson, Joffrey lunged forward with all his might. With just one hand, the Night King used the spear to block. But Joffrey, seemingly overcome with madness, ignored the ice spear.
"Aaaargh! Fuck… that's hurts!"
The ice spear pierced into Joffrey's chest, passing right through him, skewering him. But that didn't stop Joffrey's descent onto the Night King, and at last, his Valyrian steel blade touched.
Clank!
The sharp tip of the sword pierced right into the Night King's chest. And from the looks of it, the Night King was shocked as well by Joffrey's suicidal actions.
"You… You'll die too!" The Night King growled, moments away from shattering apart from the magical blade's damage.
"Gh…" Gurgling blood from his mouth, hanging in the air by the ice spear, Joffrey gave a bloody grin. "Heh—I made a deal…"
BOOM!
Night King's icy body exploded into millions of tiny cold shards. The ice spear also vanished with that, and Joffrey fell hard onto the filthy, cold dirt at the foot of the Weirwood tree.
"Unnngh… I can't… breathe…"
His stomach split open, his lungs punctured, Joffrey gasped for each breath. A puddle of blood formed under his body, but he kept moving. He crawled with aim, teeth gritted, half-open eyes frowning.
He could hear the distant sounds of men shouting, steel striking. The battle outside the city was still ongoing.
I-It worked?
There, in front of him, he saw the Night King's severed hand on the ground. It was intact.
That's it… That's fucking it!
Barely holding it, he reached for the blue, ice-like hand and held it in his leather glove with metal plates on the top. It was coated with Dragonglass scales around the palm, negating whatever the magical hand might have done.
Bastard's not dead yet… I'm sure of it.
Not wasting his last few breaths, he quickly removed his armored glove, practically inverting it so the Dragonglass side now fully covered the severed demonic hand. Once it was covered in the glove, Joffrey dug the loose dirt with his bare hands.
"Haaaaa… not yet… can't die yet…"
Each of his breaths sounded like a dying beast, loud and deathly. But with the sole purpose of hiding the hand, he dug the ground, shoved the hand inside, and then pushed the dirt back on it.
Almost there…
Once… twice… Each next move of his hand weakened, slowly but surely hiding the demonic hand fully.
There… done…
Finally finished, he twisted his body and laid flat on his back. Eyes open wide, staring at the night sky, at the distant moon.
"Haaaaah…"
Unable to speak anymore, he gulped a few last breaths and closed his eyes. At that moment, only a few thoughts remained.
I have… done my part… Your turn… Seven.
Finally, the Golden Lion's heart thumped for the last time. But he knew this wasn't the end, merely twenty-three, he was yet to reach his prime.
####
The battle went on for many hours. Each one of the White Walkers was killed, and then the wraiths fell. By the time morning came, more than a dozen lords had died, and many more knights. Some houses entirely went extinct as sons and fathers turned into wraiths.
All of it, every single moment of it, went as Joffrey had planned. For the throne to come on top as the sole power of the realm, the nobility had to be weakened—so it did.
Joffrey was found dead not long after he drew his last breath. Quickly, the King was placed on a table in a guarded room. Around him, women cried, wailed as tears fell nonstop. But among the women stood one with no expression, staring at the dead body. Her red hair and red dress stood out starkly.
"I can bring him back—R'hllor wills it!" Melisandre announced, gaining the attention of all the women in the chamber.
"Do not spout your fanatical nonsense!" Ser Jaime angrily growled at her. "Leave this place!"
"Let her speak, Brother." Tyrion stopped Jaime from hitting the Red Priestess. "We've seen the fire His Grace carried. There may be some truth to it."
At that, Daenerys stepped forward and held Melisandre's hand. "How? What do you need to bring him back?"
Melisandre hummed and looked at Daenerys, directly at her belly. Then she looked at Catelyn's belly, then Arya's, Sansa's, and finally Val's. "I shall need seven of his offspring to touch him and share their connection with him."
"What?" Ser Jaime exclaimed and looked at the babes in Sansa and Daenerys' arms. "From where are we to bring seven offspring?"
"They are already here."
"Where?" Jaime asked again, confused.
At that, Melisandre looked at the five women, then smiled slightly. "Catelyn, Sansa, Arya, Queen Daenerys, and Val—All of you currently carry his seed in your wombs."
"Oh!" Tyrion whistled, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Our King is quite the... adventurer. How did I never notice?"
"Out!" Daenerys glared at Tyrion and then Jaime. "You too. Don't let anyone enter this chamber—It's an order!"
"As you wish, Your Grace." Tyrion bowed and left the room. Behind him, Jaime followed begrudgingly. That left only Melisandre and the other five women together.
Daenerys huffed at Melisandre. "Speak. How do we bring Joffrey back?"
"It is not too hard; the Lord of Light has shown me the path." Melisandre walked closer to the table and placed her hand on Joffrey's naked chest. Then, she removed the piece of cloth left on his loins, revealing his tool to all the women. "Send the children out for now. First, all five of you must join him one by one—like lovers—take him inside."
All five women looked at each other awkwardly. But to bring Joffrey back, they were willing to do anything. Quickly, Daenerys had Missandei called in to take the children outside.
"Who will go first?" Arya asked the Red Priestess.
"There is no set order." Melisandre still looked at Daenerys. "As his Queen and his rightful wife, perhaps it falls to you."
Daenerys nodded quickly and moved closer to the table. Wearing warm, multiple layers of clothes, it was impractical to take them all off. So, seeking help, she looked at the five women and asked. "You four… When?"
Val proudly spoke first. "A few nights ago. I asked him to—I wanted a babe just like yours."
It felt more embarrassing and awkward. But Daenerys silently nodded, a little understanding. Being a mother was her joy too. "And you three?"
Surprisingly, all three Stark women replied at the same time, using the same words.
"At the Red Keep."
"In the Red Keep."
"The Red Keep."
"..."
Now Daenerys was speechless, and even her face turned flushed red. She looked at Val, who had a smirk on her lips. She looked at Melisandre at the back, who seemed surprised, too.
"All three of you?" Daenerys dared to ask.
Arya shrugged, arms crossed. "At the same time."
"..."
Cough!
Val intentionally coughed.
Daenerys sipped in a deep breath. She was aware that Joffrey was involved with other women, but not like this. He bred all three Stark women? There were only three left in the first place.
"Ah?" As if Daenerys just remembered something, she looked back at Melisandre. "You as well? Did he—"
Melisandre shook her head. "No, Your Grace."
All five women let out a sigh of relief.
"His Grace only ever utilized my mouth," Melisandre added.
"..."
"Pfft—" Val almost wheezed in laughter. To her, the drama was spicy, entertaining.
Meanwhile, Sansa, Catelyn, and Arya awkwardly rubbed their chin and stared at the dead body of Joffrey. None of them noticed a faint drop of sweat forming on his temples, hidden behind his hair.
"Please hurry; the longer we wait, the less effective it may be." Melisandre pushed the women to hurry.
For a moment, the five women carrying Joffrey's unborn children became silent. Their eyes remained focused on his muscular, tall, but dead body.
More sweat formed on Joffrey's temples, but it went unnoticed.
"No, I like him." Arya was the first to break the silence.
Sansa was next and moved to help Daenerys lift her heavy gown and remove the smallclothes to settle on Joffrey's manhood. "I love Joffrey."
"He's been nothing but honorable and kind to me and my family," Catelyn added, and also helped.
"I never had any issues. He owns me." Val barked from the side, still leaning against the wall, fully covered in Kingsguard armor.
Finally, Daenerys reacted, nodding her head. "He's my husband, and I love him—He needs us."
Nobody noticed a very faint curve forming on Joffrey's lips, briefly.
Yes, he was alive and already awake.
Yes, he was scared of opening his eyes.
No, R'hllor had nothing to do with his revival. The bastard was already locked away.
Yes, Melisandre was bullshitting. Or perhaps, one of the Seven Gods was playing with her mind.
But one thing was certain: Joffrey didn't want to get up right now. It was better to let them go through that bizarre ritual and become close to each other.
####
When Joffrey fell lifeless in the Godswood, he didn't truly die but instead drifted into a strange, cloudy world where everything was white. He had no body, at least not visible. But he still felt just fine.
He moved in that dreamy world. It felt like he'd spent decades there, yet he knew not much time had passed. He waited, knowing that the Seven must be making a move against R'hllor, finishing the job he'd left behind.
There were two reasons why he didn't fully kill the Night King when he had the chance. One was to keep the fight going and have more lords and nobles die to weaken the nobility. The second reason was to blackmail R'hllor.
Through the Seven, Joffrey had realised that R'hllor was no righteous creature. No, R'hllor was no different from the Night King. He had become a mere pawn of a fire demon against an ice demon. And as long as the Night King was living on land, R'hllor couldn't fully exert itself. It had to use the Red Priestess to play around.
So, by keeping the Night King alive, barely, R'hllor could be blackmailed. Sadly, he'd died, and the blackmailing part was left to the Seven, who he reckoned were higher beings like R'hllor, if not higher than him.
Joffrey could do nothing but wait in that strange realm. The laws of time played with his head, however. Soon, he felt as if centuries had passed. Hopeful, he still waited.
Then, just when he was on the verge of losing his mind, the Seven spoke in their combined, muffled voice.
"It has been done, King Joffrey. R'hllor has been banished from this realm, and for as long as your blood lives, he shall not return."
"Should I destroy the last trace of the Night King?" Joffrey asked. Keeping that demonic hand was risky.
"You may, King Joffrey. Now go and live—We have fulfilled our end, now it's your turn. Beware, the wheel of your fate is ours to spin. Betray us, and you'll find hell within."
Shwooo!
The entire cloudy, dream-like world collapsed in front of him. He felt as if falling from the sky, his stomach churning. And just as he died, he suddenly felt alive again, a cold, wooden texture pressed against his back.
He wanted to open his eyes and jump, but just before doing that, he heard the exchange going on around him. It was risky… too risky.
Fuck! I didn't want her to find out like this.
Despite all the things, he liked Daenerys. She was a capable woman, and if he was to conquer Essos, he needed her beside him with the dragons. He needed his sons and daughters to ride those dragons, too.
"He's my husband, and I love him—He needs us."
That's right, Daenerys! You love me!
Joffrey felt elated, doing his best to act dead. He heard the rustling of clothes beside him, likely Daenerys removing her smallclothes. Then, he heard the table creak, and finally, he felt Daenerys' insanely warm ass fall upon his loins, her sultry hot cunt flat against his cock.
He couldn't help it. He was left naked in the cold castle. His cock was as shrunken as possible. But Daenerys was quick to work, guiding her petals back and forth on him, heating him up. It took everything for Joffrey not to move and turn them around, get on top of her, and take her right there like a victory celebration.
"Mmmh…" Daenerys hummed and finally, raised her hips, and took his hard cock inside. She took it slowly, gently.
Seven Hells! She's… so lovely. Joffrey gritted his teeth. The sensations were mind-numbing. So warm, tight, slick, his balls yearned to spill.
"Aah!"
"That's enough, Your Grace. Let the others take part in the ritual. We must be fast." Melisandre stopped Daenerys from fucking herself on his shaft.
No! You beautiful old hag! I was almost there!
"I should go next," Sansa suggested shyly.
Soon, Joffrey relished in the warmth of his second wife-to-be's cunt. Sansa was as lovely and docile as ever. He couldn't help but feel proud of how well he'd trained her. Sadly, that warmth lasted only a tiny moment. As soon as Sansa took him hilt deep, she let out a moan and got off.
Then came Arya, as tight as ever. She had to move on his cock a few times to fully take him in. After that came Catelyn, and she was so slick that Joffrey vanished in her cunt in one, single move. Catelyn did gift him a few, deep grinds, however, shifting back and forth on his magnificent cock.
As understanding as ever, Cat.
Finally, it was Val's turn.
"Help me get out of this damn armor." Val cursed. She had to fully remove her breeches, a downside of wearing the Knigsguard uniform. Then, completely naked from below, she proudly climbed the table, as if showcasing her round, soft ass to the other ladies.
Val was wild as always. She took her time, aligned his cock, rubbed it on her pussy lips, and then took him in slowly. "Ummmh… Just what I needed… You better wake up, Joffrey… You got five ladies to please."
Soon, Val. Very soon.
Val started to truly fuck herself on his cock soon. The table creaked, her cunt churned him, milked him.
"That's enough!"
Fuck you, Melisandre! I'll have you hung! Your god's gone!
Blue balled, Joffrey was left naked again, his loins covered with a piece of cloth. His cock shrank back to its smaller size.
Then, the sound of the door opening came. Soon, he felt two very small hands gently tap on his face. The one on his left was smaller, Aurelion's, he reckoned. The one on his right was bigger, Joanna's, he knew. He was disappointed that Creagan couldn't touch him.
I'll make it up to him later, no doubt. I'll take him as my squire.
Cersei was an absolute wreck of a mother. And Jaime was a fool obsessed with Cersei's cunt. Joffrey had no desire to be like that. If R'hllor was to be kept away, he needed to forge a strong bloodline, proud and wise.
"Papa?" Joanna's sweet, child-like voice came, full of worry and curiosity.
My little princess. Joffrey wanted to spend time with his children now that he had finally won.
"I bring forth the fire of the Lord of Light!" Melisandre approached the table and placed her hand on Joffrey's chest. "It's beating! I can feel the fire reigniting within—Arise, King Joffrey Baratheon—Arise, the one who fulfilled the prophecy—Arise!"
I'm tired of her nonsense. Let's just wake up.
"Gaaaaah! Where… Where… What happened?" Joffrey acted remarkably and sat up panting, eyes wide, brows furrowed in a frown. "Where am I? Daenerys? Did we win?"
Even the court jester would look like a novice before this performance.
Woosh!
Daenerys jumped over and wrapped her arms around his waist, crying. "We did… We won!"
Sansa and Arya also jumped closer to hug. Catelyn warmly stood beside him and held his hand. Val, the valiant, straight up kissed his lips by jumping onto the table.
He hugged them, caressed their backs, and reassured them. He also looked down at his stab wounds, now only scars. The Seven had done their magic.
"I'm hungry." He said after calming down the woman. "And cold."
Quickly, he was given a warm bath, a new set of regal clothes, and his crown. Then, a grand feast was planned for the lords, while the army was disbanded, as maintaining over a hundred thousand men in one place was too draining on the coffers. Still, the lords and knights were advised to feed their men a good, hearty meal for their valor.
The dead were given a mass funeral. The dead bodies of the nobles were sent home after their name was listed in the record to honor their sacrifice later.
That night, in the Great Hall of Winterfell, more than a hundred lords, high and low, gathered to feast and drink. At the head of the table, where once Eddard Stark and then Robb Stark sat, Joffrey was seated. To his right was Daenerys, and to his left was Sansa, followed by Arya and Catelyn. Even Tyrion was there, sitting beyond Daenerys.
Has she accepted me as the King? Joffrey wondered what Daenerys was thinking.
Nonetheless, with the crown on his head, he grabbed a goblet of wine and stood up to address the gathering.
Creak!
As soon as he rose, silence fell. The eyes full of respect and admiration stroked Joffrey's ego. He loved it.
"I am proud to sit here with you all, alive, well, and firmly in control of my body. We planned, yes, but the battle came upon us swiftly. Yet we met the enemy with strength and resolve. Many lives were lost, but many more would have followed if not for the exploding Scorpions, the Dragonglass, Daenerys bringing the giants with her dragons—and all of you. Since our youth, we have heard tales of the Long Night, and it arrived. But we rose above it and claimed victory. This toast is for all who stood strong!"
"Aye!"
"To victory!"
The Lords raised their cups and took a sip.
Joffrey raised his cup once more, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Gone are the days of petty squabbles and fractured allegiances. Today, we stand together, a Kingdom unlike any other! We have the power, we have the strength, we have the dragons—no longer will we set our sights low. Now we look beyond, to distant shores, to new lands ripe for the taking. From the Sunset Sea to the Jade Sea, one banner will rise—The Stag, the Wolf, and the Dragon—united as one! To glory, to conquest!"
"To conquest!"
"To new lands!"
At that point, Joffrey was admired and honored enough that they would have agreed to anything. But he kept the detailed plans private for the time being. As many noble houses had gone extinct in the battle, and others weakened, he'd have the chance soon to erase the entire concept of the Six Kingdoms.
Soon, there would be all but one—Westeros, with one King.
For now, he sat down and ate, often caressing the lap of Daenerys or Sansa, talking to the two women who'd birthed him heirs. Sansa would help him hold the North, and Daenerys would help him lay a claim on Essos due to her Valyrian blood.
"Do you really plan on taking Essos?" Daenerys inquired, intrigued.
Joffrey nodded. "Why not? Aegon's dream has been fulfilled. The realm is no longer seven, it is one. Now, it's high time to go back to your home and reestablish an empire. We've already begun the work—Lys, Tyrosh, Slaver's Bay... all under our influence. The rest will follow, in time."
"Taking the entire Essos will be hard."
Smiling, he squeezed her leg gently. "Nothing worth having ever comes easy, Daenerys. But as long as we're together, we'll win."
She squeezed his hand back, a beautiful smile on her lips.
"So, have you decided on our daughter's name?" He asked her, changing the topic. She did want a daughter, after all.
"We don't know what it'll be."
"I have a feeling it'll be a girl." He claimed, pouring her some juice instead of wine. "By the way, I've thought of a perfect partner for our son."
The King's table drifted into intimate discussions, eventually involving Sansa too. It was a calm evening, the joy of victory still running high. But as the feast came to an end, Joffrey slipped past the five women, leaving them to discuss their claim over the King.
With just his sword at his side, he returned to the Godswood and approached the Weirwood tree. The humanoid face on it was still as creepy as ever, but he felt no life within it. Killing Bloodraven was the best decision, he reckoned.
He soon found a dried puddle of blood, his own. Remembering where he hid the Night King's hand, he quickly dug and took out the dragonglass-coated glove.
Thud!
Without touching the ice surface of the hand, he dropped it onto the ground and then aimed his Valyrian steel sword's tip at it, ready to finish the Night King for good.
All of my second was life for this… I won… I really won.
It all still felt like a dream. He still often dreamt of his wedding day when he got poisoned and choked to death.
I'll go beyond any king. I'll become an emperor of the world.
At last, he raised his sword higher to stab into the frozen hand.
Snap!
"What!?"
A loud snap of fingers resounded, and the world became completely dark all of a sudden. He quickly looked down at himself, his body was visible. Then, right in front of his feet, there was the Night King's hand.
Shhhh…~
A figure emerged in the darkness. It was covered in fluttering dark robes, taller than ten feet, its head covered with a hood. No skin was visible.
"S-Stranger?"
Only that made sense by the looks of it.
"Eat the hand, King Joffrey." Stranger's whispering voice rang.
What?
Joffrey looked at the icy hand and then back at the death itself. "Why?"
"It has no soul, for it has crossed the sea. Eat the hand, King Joffrey, and let fate be; Your path is fraught with strife and woe. Yet this small tool will help you grow."
Very poetic of him.
He intently stared at the frozen hand.
No reason for them to kill me right now.
"Very well."
Using the Dragonglass glove, Joffrey picked the icy hand, and with a disgusted face, bit onto one of the fingers. It broke apart like ice, falling into his mouth. But then it melted right away, the rest vanishing too.
"I feel… Ah… It's cold!"
He felt a surge of cold shiver run across every vein of his body. But he didn't shiver, nor did it make him feel weak. Instead, he felt completely fine. Too fine, actually. The layers of clothes he'd worn felt unnecessary despite being in the North and it being Winter.
Snap!
Just like that, he was back in reality.
Ignoring that, Joffrey looked at his hands in silence. They'd turned paler as if he were dead. But he knew he was alive, he could feel his heart.
Magic! It's getting out of hand now.
Resistance to cold? Resistance to heat? He could feel something had happened. But couldn't pinpoint it.
Tiredly, he exhaled and looked back at the tall Weirwood tree. Knowing what magical properties the tree had, he wondered what other types of magic were out there.
I guess I'll find out. Better start planning for Essos.
But as he turned around to return to the castle, he smiled.
Maybe after greeting my beautiful ladies.
#####
King's Landing, one year later.
King's royal bed chamber had undergone a change.
Much grander, larger, and contained an unusually enormous bed, wide on each side, enough to hold almost ten people on it. It couldn't be carried in there, and was directly built inside the royal chamber. The chamber was adorned to the very peak of luxury. Gold everywhere, diamonds, gems decorated the ceiling. The King of the Seven Kingdoms was a behemoth entity.
"Aaaaah… My love! Yes… Ooooh!"
Currently, the entire massive bed was drenched, with continuous moans echoing for the past three hours. King Joffrey lay flat on his back, completely naked, but not alone. Balls deep inside Daenerys as she rode him, jumping on his cock as if he were a horse saddle. Her tight, honey-soft scorching walls milked him, seeking his fourth release of the night.
Fourth, as he'd already fucked silly the other three ladies he'd welcomed in his life. At the foot side of the grand bed lay Sansa and Arya distant from each other, both panting, eyes closed, legs somewhat spread, revealing the sore, reddened, swollen cunt, leaking creamy white batter the King had given them, mixed with their own juices.
But one thing to be noted were their tits that lay full and soft, round. The Seven had truly blessed him, and Maiden's blessing was too strong. Each of the five women had given him a babe already, all girls, and now they lay with their tits full of sweet nourishing nectar. Understandably, Sansa and Arya lay there with wide palm marks on their breast, teeth marks around their stiff nipples, their chest almost fully coated in wet milk, now turned sticky.
Val was no better as she sat limp on the cushioned chair beside the bed. Her head was plopped back, her long blond hair falling back. Eyes closed, mouth open, her legs spread with a similar sight to the Stark sisters. Her bosom, larger than Sansa's and Arya's, was also covered in red marks of palms and teeth.
And now, it was Daenerys and Catelyn's turn, left for the last. While Daenerys rode his cock, Catelyn lay beside him on her elbows, lowering her tits to his lips for him to savor her taste. It was embarrassing, shameful, and the epitome of sin, but having done this so often already, it was normal.
He didn't hesitate. His mouth latched on, lips wrapping around her tender nipple, sucking greedily as the creamy fluid filled his tongue. The taste was sweet, potent. His face, his golden hair, even his broad chest was already a mess, drenched in milk and sweat from the earlier fucking.
Val had left her mark, and so had Sansa and Arya; rubbing their breasts all over him, coating his skin in their rich, maternal nectar. The scent of sex clung to him like perfume, strong and decadent. And he loved it. This was what victory felt like.
"Mmmmh… I-uh… Hope you like the… taste… Your Grace," Catelyn murmured shyly, her voice trembling from the heat between them. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her breath shallow as she looked down at him. Despite the shame of it all, she couldn't hide how much she needed this. How her thick, mature curves trembled under his touch, how her ripe, sensitive nipples hardened the more he suckled.
Joffrey's cock twitched inside Daenerys at the sound of Catelyn's voice.
"Mm… Sweet as ever, Cat," he murmured, letting her tit fall from his lips with a wet pop.
"What about me, my love?" Daenerys purred, her pussy tightening around his cock.
Joffrey turned his head, eyes tracing the lines of Daenerys' perfect body riding him. Her thighs were slick with sweat, her pussy squelching as it slid down to meet his every thrust. He was soaked, head to toe in their sweetness, and he'd never felt more like a King.
"Let me see…" he growled, gripping her waist and tugging her down toward him.
Daenerys leaned forward with a smile and pushed one of her perfect tits, angling it toward his mouth. He latched on again, this time to her, and she gasped. Her voice broke in a mixture of relief and pleasure. "Ohhh… yesss… Gods, your mouth… It's better than any wet dream I've ever had.. Ho–oow do I taste, my love?"
Her nectar burst onto his tongue, warm and rich, flowing fast like her body couldn't hold back any longer.
Joffrey drank greedily, mouth moving in deep, slow sucks that made her whimper and tremble. The tip of his tongue flicked her stiff nipple as he swallowed down every drop, gulping the watery, sweet cream like he hadn't been fed in days. He didn't even like milk, never did; But when it came from the breasts of these fine women, when it spilled straight into his mouth from their soft, swollen tips… he loved it more than the rarest Arbor wine.
Seven hells—They are all sweet as honey.
"Seven, Daenerys… You taste like divinity," he groaned against her skin, then kissed the underside of her breast as his cock surged inside her, harder now. "You were made for this, weren't you? To ride your King, feed him, bear his sons… My perfect Queen."
He loved stroking their egos, to make them all remain loyal to him. The more he made them happy, the more obedient they were to him.
"Aaaaah… Oh ye—ssh…. I can feel it coming… My love!"
Daenerys leaned down, replacing her sensitive button with her lips, kissing him wildly, uncaring of the milk and spit they now shared. The taste of Catelyn still lingered on his tongue, and Daenerys devoured it, hungry for every trace.
She fucking loves me, doesn't she?
Joffrey gripped her waist harder, using his full strength now. The bed creaked, no–rocked, huge as it was, it jolted under the sheer force of his thrusts. His cock rammed into her depths, splitting her open again and again. He no longer had anything to fear or be careful of. He could bed them or breed them whenever he desired. The more babes the better.
Daenerys gasped, moaned, then cried out loud as he struck her cervix, harder. She still wasn't used to his size, and she loved that. Her pussy clenched around him desperately, her tight canal milking him like a starving mouth.
He loved her like this, desperate, needy, spoiled.
And she had come to accept it all. His lovers. His harem. His cock shared across a sea of willing, leaking cunts. She had only one rule; to be told first, and to be allowed to watch or join. It had been a fair trade.
Thanks to that, Joffrey never slept alone over the past year, commonly sleeping together with Sansa joining them, as he'd already married her too.
Even more, Joffrey had already betrothed his one-year-old son, Aurelion, to his daughter Joanna from Sansa. That way, he made both women happy, keeping the Crown in the family, without making it a direct brother and sister relationship. He even outlawed marriage between brothers and sisters from the same wife—Meaning, the father could be the same, but not the mother.
"Oooooh, yes, yes, yes…. I love you… Joff… Yesss!" Daenerys screamed as her orgasm tore through her.
Her whole body seized up. Her belly tensed, her plump ass jolted, and her pussy gushed, violently creaming all over his cock in a wet squirt that soaked his balls and thighs. Her soaked walls fluttered in chaotic waves, clenching and kneading him greedily.
That was all it took.
Joffrey groaned, throwing his head back as he exploded inside her, pressing his cock deep to kiss her womb directly. Thick, fertile spurts shot from him in hot, unrelenting waves, flooding her insides, painting every inch of her cunt with the King's seed. If the Maiden smiled upon them, her belly would swell again, just like it was meant to.
He kept thrusting, slowly now, dragging out her climax as he emptied himself deep within.
Daenerys whimpered, twitching atop him, her sore pussy lips still needy, still clinging. She never stopped riding, even through the overstimulation. Each roll of her hips was sloppy, delirious. Their mixed culmination spilled out of her, coating his shaft in a frothy mess.
The scent of sex was unbearable, thick and musky, sharp and sweet. The air was heavy with it, making even the wildest brothel smell like a virgin's prayer room in comparison.
"Hah… Let Catelyn have it too, Daenerys," Joffrey murmured lazily, delivering a soft indulgent slap to her pale, pillowy ass.
"Hmm…" Daenerys giggled, her voice breathless, still trembling. She leaned in for one last kiss. Soft, filthy, her lips tasting of milk and sex; and then she rolled off his cock with a contented sigh.
She collapsed on his left side, panting hard like Val, Sansa, and Arya; scattered across the chamber. Her thighs were sticky, her skin glistening. Her cunt still leaked his seed like honey dripping from a ripe fruit. She let her fingers trail down, spreading her folds and playing with the creamy mess between them. She dipped one finger in, brought it to her mouth, and suckled thoughtfully, as if giddily wondering what it might be doing deep inside her, what new life might already be forming in her womb.
But Joffrey was already on the move.
He shifted to his right, where Catelyn, the Stark matriarch, waited on her back with serene, sinful grace. He settled between her legs with practiced familiarity, his cock slick and glistening with Daenerys' essence, still rock hard and throbbing for more. He decided to take Catelyn like he did that first time: raw and hungry.
Catelyn. His proudest conquest.
She wasn't some blushing girl. She was seasoned, curvaceous, a woman twice his age, and his most unexpected prize. No woman had resisted him longer, and no woman had surrendered as fully. Of all his lovers, she was the one who had once seemed untouchable. Now, she begged to be used, eager to be filled again.
He took a moment to drink her in. Creamy thighs that swallowed his fingers when he gripped them, a soft belly with the perfect curve of motherhood, and her breasts, massive, warm, and endlessly nourishing. She often fed not just her own daughter, but Daenerys, Arya, and Val's babes when duty pulled them away. She was more than a lover. She was his matron, his wet nurse, his beautiful, mature broodmare.
"Cat…" he whispered, eyes meeting hers. She was still so beautiful. The faint creases around her eyes only made her more precious, more his.
She looked up at him, lips parted, cheeks pink, and even now, still called him—"Your Grace...."
With slow elegance, she raised her knees and spread her fleshy thighs apart, offering herself fully.
Joffrey guided his cock to her slick entrance, dragging the fat tip through her folds. She was soaked, already drooling for him. He pushed in, and her cunt welcomed him with ease. She wasn't tight, but she was perfect, warm, yielding, and skilled. Her wet walls squeezed down on him just the way he liked, her muscles pulsing with deliberate control.
He leaned forward, kissing her with reverence and heat, locking eyes with her as his cock buried itself to the hilt. All he could think of in that moment was House Stark, once proud, now his. Reduced to a breeding bed. Bent beneath him, submitting to his cock, giving him sons and daughters. All his.
"Ready for another babe?" Joffrey asked with a filthy grin, his cock twitching inside her already stretched hole.
Catelyn bit her lip, hard. The very question made her shiver, her pussy clenching in anticipation. "Ummmh…" she moaned, blue eyes fluttering. "Please… I'd love to, Your Grace."
She had long buried the ghost of Ned Stark. Now, all she craved was Joffrey's cock and his seeds. Bearing his children was no longer shameful, it was holy.
"Very well… Take it then!"
Plap!
He slammed in with a brutal thrust, his cock bottoming out inside her soaked cunt with a loud, wet clap. Her back arched as her body jolted, and her breasts bounced like ripened fruit, too beautiful to ignore.
He caught each marshmallowy softness in his hands, kneading one like dough, milking it with firm fingers while spreading his lips on the other. His tongue swirled over her hard nipple, drawing the taste of her out with greedy gulps, mixing sweat, sex, and the faintest trace of sweet milk.
Joffrey fucked her like a beast in heat. The royal bed creaked beneath them, shaking from the force of his pistoning hips. Fucking Catelyn Stark gave him a high that no other woman could give.
He was relentless now, knowing this would be the last woman of the night, he poured out everything. Slamming into her recklessly, his cock drilling into her experienced cunt with the precision of a man claiming what was his.
"Breed me—eh, Your Grace!" Catelyn moaned beneath him, nails clawing down his back, legs trembling on either side of his waist.
"Put another babe in me—yes! Fill me up, again and again… Gods, I want more. As many as you want. As long as I'm still fertile… I want every one of them to be yours!"
Her words fanned the fire in his belly. He growled low against her neck, fucking her harder. Pushing his legs higher to go as deep as possible with each ravenous thrust.
She clung to him, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders, one hand tangled in his hair, the other dragging down his back. Her orgasm hit, violent, overwhelming. Her legs buckled, trying to collapse from the strain, but Joffrey held them up, hooking them over his elbows and keeping her wide open for his cock to pound deeper.
He sat back on his knees, her slick thighs wrapped around him. Sweat dripped down his chest, mixing with the glistening sheen of the other women's juices still clinging to him.
As he thrust into Catelyn, he caught Daenerys watching from the side, lying lazily with her head propped on one elbow. Her silver hair was tousled, her body still flushed from being thoroughly fucked, but that sly smirk on her face said she wanted more.
Panting, Joffrey met her eyes and lifted a brow. What are you smiling at, you little minx?
Daenerys giggled and winked, blowing him a kiss with her free hand.
Gods, what a little devil—Love her.
Still hammering into Catelyn, he leaned forward to the side and caught Daenerys' lips in a fierce kiss, their mouths messy with mingled tastes, milky nectar, spit, and sweat. It was his way of reminding her: she was still his queen, along with Sansa.
"Ugh!" he grunted, hips jerking violently. His cock parted Catelyn's walls even wider while he leaned for that kiss.
He broke the kiss and focused back on Catelyn, burying his face in her neck as his climax tore through him. His cock swelled inside her mature, used cunt and burst. Hot, viscous ropes of seed flooded her cunt, coating her womb with molten batter. It spilled out in thick globs around his shaft, running down between her asscheeks.
He stayed inside, grounding his cock in deep, shallow wavy grinds to milk every last drop into her greedy body. He made sure he gave her what she wanted, burying his seed, shoving everything in deep.
"Hah… That was… intense," he breathed out, finally collapsing forward onto Catelyn's warm bosom, their sweat-slicked bodies sticking together.
He rolled sideways, falling between the two women, cock twitching, body buzzing.
Daenerys wasted no time. She pounced onto his chest, lying flat atop him, her soft curves molding against his muscles as she claimed her place as the first Queen. She kissed his jaw, nuzzling him, moaning softly. Her body was light, delicate, barely a weight compared to the force he just exerted.
"Val, Sansa, Arya—come over."
At his lazy, beckoning call, more of his lovers stirred in the room, rising from their places around the bed, sated, sore, yet eager. One by one, Val, Sansa, and Arya crawled toward their King again.
"Ummh… Still sore." Val grunted and moved weakly.
Arya and Sansa crawled from the foot side. Skin glistening with the lingering sheen of sweat, hair tousled and sticking to their flushed cheeks. Their naked bodies moved with lazy grace, breasts heavy, thighs slick, as they sought warmth and comfort beside the man who'd just emptied them, again and again.
Quickly, Arya settled on Joffrey's right, between him and Catelyn. She laid her head on his spread arm and hugged him from the side, receiving a soft kiss on the lips while at it. From behind Arya, Catelyn hugged and squeezed into Joffrey, close, tight, warm.
On his other side, Sansa took her place similar to Arya, being his second lawful Queen. She received a kiss too and settled there neatly. Behind Sansa, Val squeezes in, also getting a kiss first.
Like that, all six of them huddled close in that vast, sweat-slicked bed, their bodies entangled like lovers tangled in a fever dream. Winter had crept into King's Landing at last, and the cool air prickled against their bare skin, making their shared warmth all the more intoxicating. Skin against skin, thigh against thigh, it was sticky and wet, their bodies still marked by his seed and each other's touch.
The heavy scent of sex lingered in the air, thick, musky, depraved, soaked into the bedding and their hair. But for Joffrey, that scent was sweeter than any perfume, a mingling of lust, love, and ownership. It was the smell of victory.
To any outsider, the sight would've looked depraved; five naked, thoroughly fucked women curled up against a single man, their limbs draped over him, their cunts still soaked with his seed. But Joffrey only saw devotion, power, and worship.
Daenerys nestled under his chin, her silver hair brushing against his chest, still damp with sweat. Her breath was warm on his neck, her body soft, yet still regal even in her surrender. Around her, the other women followed suit, letting sleep claim them with satisfied sighs, all of them carrying his seed deep inside.
"Thank you for this... delightful evening, my ladies," Joffrey said, his voice smooth, though his eyes held a certain glint. "I needed this before I head for Essos tomorrow."
"Hmmm…" Daenerys purred against his throat, nuzzling his skin. "Don't you forget us there."
"Hah, how can I? I'm going there to conquer that land."
"You're taking that whore with you…" Sansa muttered from beside him, her voice tired but still biting. Her bare thighs rubbed up against his side as she pouted, her breasts pressed into his side. "That Ros…"
Ros is delightful. He thought smugly, picturing the way Ros used her tongue, the way she'd beg to be ruined, to be owned by him and be his personal whore that night. But he kept that thought to himself.
"Well, I do need someone there. She'll ensure I'm in touch with Chataya's spies." He defended himself.
"That better be the case, or I'll bring my dragons and drag you back home," Daenerys warned, though her tone was playful, giving him soft kisses on his chin. "And should you come across any dragon eggs..."
"I'll bring them over."
With that promise, Daenerys closed her eyes and soon fell asleep. Moments later, Joffrey heard Val, Sansa, Catelyn, and Arya also drift into sleep. But he remained awake, staring at the ceiling where the painting of the Seven was made so he'd never forget his vow. It couldn't be broken.
Yet, when he felt the five women in his arms, he felt so warm, needed, and happy.
Fuck, I love being the King.
Sadly, he remained unaware, the blessing of the Seven was, in truth, more curse.
He was destined for wealth, women, love, children, and a grand legacy. He had to conquer the faraway lands and spread the faith of the Seven.
It was unquestionable, a fact, a fate he could never escape.
It was his duty, but also the sword of judgement forever hanging over his nape.
It was the life of Golden Lion, but the journey had only begun. The legend of the Lion Emperor was far from done.