The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 8: A Bath with a Maid
Back at the Crossroads Inn's hall, the prince was being treated by House Darry's maester, while his mother was in the middle of a heated rant.
"You worthless dog! How could you allow something like this to happen?!"
She screamed, jabbing a finger into the man's breastplate.
"I have no excuse, your grace," he replied solemnly, bowing his head.
The queen continued her tirade as the maester worked on Joffrey's wound.
"Ow," Joffrey complained as the maester's needle slipped.
"Apologies, my prince," the maester mumbled. "You really should take some milk of the poppy. It would help with the pain."
"I already told you no, Maester," Joffrey spat, having no interest in narcotics. "I endured the cut; I can handle the stitch. Now, continue your work."
The maester bowed and obeyed, resuming his stitching as Cersei's rant filled the hall. Suddenly, the great wooden doors swung open, and all the Lannister soldiers turned toward the king and his hand.
"My son?! Where is my son?!"
Robert bellowed. Before anyone could answer, he spotted Joffrey at the far end of the hall. He marched forward, his footsteps heavy, pushing aside any Lannister man too slow to move. Lord Eddard followed, his expression grave, having heard of his daughter's involvement.
The king found an odd scene: his wife screaming at his son's sworn shield, Sansa Stark huddled in a corner with tear-swollen eyes, and his heir sitting on a wooden seat as a maester stitched his chest.
"Joffrey?" A hint of concern colored Robert's voice as he approached.
"Your Grace."
Joffrey tried to rise, but Robert stopped him.
"None of that, boy." He held out a hand.
Standing over his heir, Robert examined the four long cuts on Joffrey's left collarbone. Seeing the bloody rags and soiled instruments, his anger flared.
"Someone had better explain what happened to my son, or I'll start cracking skulls." His tone was dangerously low.
A collective gulp went through the soldiers.
"Well?!" he bellowed.
"What is there to explain?" Cersei cut in. "This dog is at fault, and that useless little sow!"
Sansa's sobs intensified, drawing a scowl from Ned Stark. Before he could speak, Joffrey interjected.
"Mother, please don't speak like that."
Cersei rounded on her son, her anger evident. "Why shouldn't I? That mutt's only purpose was to protect you, and he failed. And that girl led you into the woods!"
"Mother, I dismissed Sandor. He was following my orders," Joffrey clarified, sitting up straighter. "And I led us into the woods. I wanted to see more of the riverlands and spend time with my lady. I am to blame for this."
Sandor and Sansa exchanged surprised glances.
"But! But—" Cersei began, but Robert silenced her with a raised hand.
"Quiet, woman!" He turned to Joffrey. "Now, Joffrey, tell me the truth."
"Yes, your grace."
Joffrey recounted the tale, omitting Arya and the butcher's boy. When he finished, Robert and most of the room wore shocked expressions.
"A shadowcat, seriously?" Robert asked, skeptical.
"It's true, your grace," a Lannister soldier confirmed, gesturing to the dead cat.
The king examined the corpse. "It really was a shadowcat." He ran his hand over its dark, striped fur. "What's a shadowcat doing this far south?"
He turned to Ned, who seemed thoughtful. "I don't know, your grace. We had a similar incident in Winterfell with a direwolf."
Robert nodded. Lifting the beast's front leg, he examined the wound where Joffrey had impaled it. The sword had pierced its sternum and lung.
"So, you used a ditch, eh?" A smile spread across his flushed face.
"Yes, your grace."
A moment of silence hung in the air.
"Pfff. Hahahahahaha!"
Robert's laughter filled the hall, soon joined by some of the soldiers.
"You hear that, men?!" he bellowed. "My son is a slayer of beasts, like his old man!" He shouted proudly, and the soldiers echoed his sentiment. "Someone bring me wine and two mugs!"
The innkeeper quickly complied. Robert snatched the mugs and bottle and strode over to Joffrey.
"Here, boy," he said, shoving a mug into his hand. Joffrey carefully took it as Robert filled it to the brim.
The maester tried to intervene. "I wouldn't, your grace. The prince just received treatment. He should—"
Robert silenced him with a glare. "The prince handled a beast on his own. I think he can handle a drink with his father." The maester bowed in compliance.
"A toast!" Robert shouted, gaining everyone's attention. "To my son, Prince Joffrey!"
"Yeah!" they all shouted, downing their cups.
Robert turned back to his son. "You made me proud, Joffrey," he said, grasping his shoulder with a wide smile.
Something flickered within Joffrey. He remembered waiting sixteen years to see that expression and to hear those words.
Too bad he was a deranged psychopath, he thought.
"Thank you, Father," he said, clinking mugs with the king, who gulped his down. Joffrey sipped his wine. It was sour with a hint of spice, making him cough and wince from the cuts.
"Hahahahaha," Robert laughed. "Drink up, boy. That'll put hair on your chest." He slapped Joffrey's back, nearly knocking him out of his chair and tearing his stitches. Robert paid it no mind as he returned to the bar. "Innkeeper, another bottle!" he bellowed.
As the celebration continued, the northern soldiers came to shake Joffrey's hand and thank him one at a time. Afterward, Lord Eddard himself stepped forward.
"Thank you for protecting my daughter, my prince," he said, bowing his head.
"I was only doing my duty to the gods and my future lady, my lord. There's no need to thank me."
Lord Eddard stared at the prince, his dark grey eyes appraising him. He had been hesitant about the match, but seeing the brave young man before him, he wondered if his concerns were misplaced.
Perhaps he will make a good son-in-law after all, he thought.
"Even so, you have my and the entire North's thanks, my prince," he said.
Joffrey smiled and nodded. He then turned to Sansa and gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned.
The celebrations continued, with Joffrey nursing his cup. The only one not celebrating was Cersei, who watched from a corner. She seethed with fury, not only at her drunken husband but also at Sansa.
You red-headed little harlot! she thought, her nails digging into the chair. Could you be the one after all?
No one noticed the storm brewing in the corner as Cersei reconsidered her son's marriage pact.
[Timeskip]
Five days passed. The royals remained at Castle Darry under the maester's advice, a precaution for the prince's health. Robert readily agreed, eager to spend more time in the Riverlands. Cersei, however, resented the bumpkin countryside.
While the king set out to hunt shadowcats with his bannermen, Joffrey had a midday meeting with his mother. They sat across from each other at a round wooden table, having tea. The air was light, and a cool breeze blew through the open window.
Cersei broke the silence. "How are your wounds?"
"Fine," Joffrey replied casually. "The maester says there are no signs of infection, and they're healing quickly."
"That's good," she said, sipping her tea, her eyes closed in thought. After a moment, she set down her cup. "Joffrey, I want to ask you something, and I want complete honesty."
"Okay," he said, confused by her change in demeanor.
"Why did you put yourself in such danger?"
"I don't understand."
Cersei's pent-up feelings from the past few days poured out. "Why did you face such a dangerous beast alone? Why risk everything for a northern girl you've known for a month? Why would you—"
Joffrey raised a hand, interrupting her. "First, slow down, Mother. I'll answer one at a time."
Cersei took a deep breath and leaned back, waiting for his explanation.
"The answer to your first question is the same as the second," Joffrey began, sitting up straighter. "I saved her because she is my future queen and the eldest daughter of a Great House."
"Pfff," Cersei scoffed. "There are plenty of pretty girls whose fathers would throw them at your feet."
"True," Joffrey nodded. "But how many of those lords will be the future Hand of the King?"
Cersei fell silent.
"Exactly," Joffrey said. "Jon Arryn is dead, and Ned Stark is to take his place. A man known for putting duty and honor above all else. If I had abandoned her, what would he think of me and our house?"
Cersei's eyes widened.
"I would have been labeled a craven, willing to sacrifice my lady to save my skin," Joffrey continued. "I would be the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms, and no one would respect my rule. More importantly, I would have earned the eternal ire of the North and the Riverlands."
He paused. "So, while you say I was in unnecessary danger, I say it was necessary, and the results were worth it."
Cersei smiled, pleased with her son's political acumen. "Well done, Joffrey," she said, giving him a motherly smile. "You're starting to think like a king."
"Thank you, Mother," Joffrey replied, his smile somewhat forced.
"I was worried you had become infatuated with her," Cersei admitted.
Joffrey nearly spat out his drink. Seeing his reaction, Cersei giggled and rang the small bell on the table, summoning a servant to clean up.
"What?" she asked, still giggling. "You're of age, and men have been led astray by less alluring girls than this little dove from the North."
"Thank you for your concern, Mother, but you needn't worry," Joffrey said as he wiped tea from his clothes. "While I find Lady Sansa… agreeable, I have no intention of jeopardizing my position for a pretty face."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it."
His mother's maid entered the chamber and stood at attention. It was the same maid who had prepared his bath weeks prior, Senelle, a woman around Cersei's age with auburn red hair and a low-cut emerald gown.
"You summoned me, your grace?" she asked.
"Yes, Senelle, my son made a mess of the tea. Clean it up and bring us a fresh pot," Cersei commanded.
"Yes, your grace." Senelle curtseyed and began cleaning.
As she cleaned the table, she bent over, giving Joffrey a clear view down her gown. He found his eyes were drawn to the sight.
"Is something the matter, my prince?" Senelle asked, her tone sultry. "You seem troubled."
"No, I'm fine," Joffrey replied stoically.
Senelle gave him an unconvinced look, her eyes drifting south, as Joffrey cursed inwardly.
Fucking teenage hormones, he thought.
Seeing his reaction, Senelle subtly shifted, making her full breasts appear even larger. "Are you sure, my prince? If there's anything I can do to assist you, you only have to ask." She teased.
Joffrey, desperate, turned to Cersei, who was engrossed in a letter from King's Landing.
"Actually, Mother, with your leave, I think I'll take a soak in the bath."
Cersei looked up, surprised. "Are you sure, sweetie? We were about to have lemon cakes."
"Yes," Joffrey nodded, adjusting his breeches. "I find a hot soak helps me with my recovery."
"Would you like me to send servants to assist you?"
"No, I prefer to bathe alone, but thank you."
"Alright, but be dressed properly for supper."
"I will, Mother," he said, bowing before quickly exiting the chamber.
As he left, the two women watched him go. Cersei, still reading her letter, didn't notice the sly smirk on Senelle's face.
[Inside House Darry's Bath]
Alone in the bath, Joffrey leaned back against the stone-carved pool, his eyes closed. As he relaxed, he heard the door creak open. Realizing he had forgotten to lock it, he reached for his sword.
The intruder closed the door and locked it before slowly entering the chamber. Joffrey stood, ready, with only a towel around his waist. But it was Senelle.
"Are you clean, my prince?" she asked flirtatiously. "Or perhaps you require a hard scrubbing?"
"What are you doing here?" Joffrey asked, ignoring her words.
"Whatever do you mean, my prince?" she asked coyly. "I simply came to bring you fresh garments and to assist you."
She set the folded clothes on a stool. Joffrey lowered his sword, realizing there was no immediate danger.
"Thank you, but I'm fine and have no need of your services."
Senelle looked over her shoulder, her expression unchanged. "I don't believe that's true." She then walked to the pool's edge.
Before Joffrey could protest, she slowly reached up and began untying her dress. Joffrey starred as she let the top of her gown fall, revealing her breasts.
"Wow…" he breathed.
They were some of the largest he had ever seen, full and high.
Senelle continued, pulling a few more laces letting her gown pool at her feet, exposing her entire body. Joffrey's eyes drifted lower.
Well, at least I know she's a natural redhead, he thought.
As Senelle slowly stepped into the pool, her movements were sensual. Joffrey backpedaled, unsure how to respond.
Once in front of him, she caressed his cheek, while Joffrey tried to regain his composure.
"I don't think the queen would approve of this," he said.
"I don't know what you mean, my prince," she replied. "I'm simply a servant assisting her master."
"Yes, but I'm recently engaged, and…"
Senelle silenced him with her fingers. "Shhh. Lords take mistresses. Why should the crown prince be any different?"
Joffrey realized her intentions.
Oh, she's a social climber, he thought.
As he processed this, Senelle's fingers trailed down his neck, over his chest, and to his towel. She began to rub him through the cloth.
"Your body is very honest, my prince," she whispered. "Indulge yourself with me. Use my body as you desire."
Joffrey's resolve crumbled. He grabbed her right breast and latched his mouth onto it, pinching her nipple with his teeth, as his other hand reached for her plump backside. Senelle moaned and combed her fingers through his hair.
"Hmm, that's a good boy," she whispered, her cheeks flushed.
After a few minutes, Joffrey lifted her and carried her to the stone ledge. As he sat her down, he kissed her deeply. He reached down, finding his entrance.
"Ah!" Senelle moaned as he thrust into her.
They ground together, Joffrey thrusting harder. His chest wound reopened, and blood flowed down his chest. He ignored it.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
They both laid side by side on the floor.
"That was incredible, my prince," Senelle panted.
"Thank you," he replied, looking at the ceiling.
"Well, then…" Senelle moved to get up, but Joffrey stopped her.
"Where are you going?" he asked. "We're not done here."
Before she could answer, he silenced her with another kiss. He spun her around and bent her over.
"Oh! Ah! Argh!" Euphoric moans echoed through the chamber.
By the time they finished, the water was cold. Joffrey, refreshed, dressed himself in an elegant white doublet and brown breeches.
Ten minutes later, Senelle emerged from the bath chamber, disheveled and shocked.
"Is that boy really only sixteen?" she wondered, as she limped down the hall toward the Maester laboratory. "I'd better get some Moon Tea before we depart."
High and welcome to my first official story. Since I'm new I'd appreciate some praise and a little interaction, just trying to get to know my audience you know. Anyway with that in mind I'd appreciate you taking the time to leave a review and some critique, and I'll do my best to read them.
If you like my story and want to read more checkout my Patreon where you can read ahead for just a small fee.
The URL is patreon.com/RoguePrince69.
The current tiers and number of advanced chapters are
Copper: 2$- 2 chapters ahead.
Silver: 5$- 5 chapters ahead.
Gold: 10$- 10 chapters ahead.