The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 12: A Handmaid's Report
In the days following his conversation with the Master of Coin, Joffrey found his plans progressing smoothly. Tobho had followed his instructions, and a third of his workers were already constructing a prototype Bessemer process alongside the accompanying blast furnace. Soon, their steel production would triple, allowing Joffrey to take the next step in the initial phase of his King's Landing plans.
He had intended to visit the Street of Steel to oversee the men's progress, but the queen had other ideas. She had summoned him to her private chambers for "mother and son time," much to his annoyance.
Inside the queen's private chambers, mother and son sat across from one another at a small round table. Cersei, dressed in a sea-green silk gown trimmed with pale Myrish lace, calmly sipped her tea, closing her eyes to savor the sweet aroma. Joffrey, on the other hand, twirled his spoon impatiently in his cup, utterly bored.
"You seem irritated, Joffrey," the queen commented calmly.
"Just a little tired, Mother," he replied in a neutral tone.
"Yes, I can imagine." She opened her eyes, slowly lowering her teacup. "With how busy you've become inside and out of the Red Keep, I'm sure you are quite exhausted. The question is, which of your new activities has worn you out so? Could it be your new pet blacksmith you've brought to your chambers? Or perhaps the sword training you've decided to take up?"
"Is there a real question in there, or is this your way of reminding me that you have your own network of spies?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.
"Do not take that tone with me, young man!" She snapped, her green eyes locking onto his. "I am still your mother and your queen, and you will speak to me as such."
Mentally sighing, Joffrey sat up straighter. "You're right. My apologies, Your Grace," he said, bowing his head slightly.
Cersei's expression softened. Slowly, she reached out and took Joffrey's hand. "It's alright. I'm not angry, Joffrey," she said, looking into his face. "It's just… I'm starting to worry about you, that's all."
"What has you so worried, Mother?"
The queen's face became conflicted, as if searching for the right words. "Ever since our trip north, you've begun acting differently," she finally said, caressing the back of his hand with delicate fingers. "You've started sword training now, something that never used to interest you. You spend so much time in the library you might as well have a bed put in there. Now I discover you've begun associating with lowly commoners, and you've even done this ridiculous thing to your beautiful hair."
She gestured to his shorter haircut, now medium length, reaching the top of his neck. Just the memory of the haircut caused Joffrey a headache. The queen had fought him tooth and nail, even threatening to have the servants' fingers removed if they obeyed his order. Only after he explained the impracticality of his long hair and the agreement to medium length rather than the short comb-over had she finally relented.
"Mother, I've already explained the reasons for cutting my hair, and as for the rest, I've just begun taking my future rule more seriously."
The queen fell silent. Seeing his mother's quiet contemplation, Joffrey continued. "As I lay in that bed on death's door, the only thing I could do was think." He looked deeply into her green eyes. "And the only thing I could think about was all my wasted opportunities. How cruelly I treated my siblings, how I neglected any martial endeavor, how little I actually knew of the kingdoms I would one day preside over."
His words reminded Cersei of his fragile state in Moat Cailin, how close she had come to losing him. For the first time, she had prayed to the Seven, tirelessly for three days and nights, until a serving girl brought the news of his awakening. The relief and happiness of holding her living son against her bosom, feeling his breath, had been overwhelming. Snapped back to the present, she heard his final words.
"That was why I vowed to the Seven that should I survive, I would dedicate myself to correcting my past mistakes and strive to become one of the greatest kings who ever lived. So, while I understand it looks as though I've become a completely different person, I swear all I'm doing is fulfilling my oath to the gods."
"I see," she finally said, slowly nodding. The sudden changes finally made some sense. She had, in truth, spoken to Pycelle about her son's behavior, but all the imbecile could offer were lecherous glances and a vague explanation about head injuries affecting behavior.
"Then why talk with the blacksmith?"
"His name is Tobho Mott, and he's the best blacksmith in the city. All I discussed with him were designs for a new set of armor," he lied smoothly.
"Oh…" Cersei suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment for her suspicions.
"Why? What did you think was going on?" He raised an eyebrow.
"N-nothing," she dismissed with a wave of her hand.
Noticing the cold tea and sweets, Cersei rang her bell. Servants entered, bringing a platter with a fresh pot of steaming tea and lemon cakes. Senelle, the queen's personal handmaiden, began refilling the royal teacups.
"Here you are, my queen," she said politely, standing beside Cersei.
Cersei waited for the redhead to finish before taking a sip. Senelle moved to Joffrey's side.
"And here's yours, my prince," she said, her tone much more sultry, bending low to pour, offering a clear view down her red gown. Joffrey's eyes flickered down, and Senelle's red lips curved into a sly smirk.
"Later," he whispered, careful the queen wouldn't hear.
Senelle nodded, straightened, and turned to leave with the others, her hip brushing against his hand in a deliberate, seductive movement. Joffrey shook his head at her antics. Their secret relationship had continued since the baths. Her intentions were clear: using him for courtly advancement. His were more pragmatic, though her boldness had increased lately due to his inattention.
The meeting continued for some time before Joffrey finally managed to placate his mother's paranoia. Exasperated, he made his way back to his solar to sketch new designs for Tobho and clear his head. He entered to find Senelle leisurely sprawled across his bed in a sheer pink gown that revealed everything.
"Ah, finally you arrive, my prince," she said seductively, propping herself up on her elbows, her breasts swaying before him. Joffrey looked unamused.
"What are you doing here, my lady?" he asked sternly.
"Whatever do you mean, my prince?" she asked with a coy smile. "You did tell me to meet up later."
"Yeah, later, as in an abandoned room or hidden compartment. Not my solar, and certainly not in the middle of the day."
"Is it really that much of a concern?" she asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
"Of course, it is!" he snapped. "No one can know about us, Senelle, you know that. Do you have any idea what the queen would do if she discovered our affair?"
"I'd probably be dismissed from court and have to return to the Westerlands, but only until you ascend your throne, I'm sure," she said with a wink.
Joffrey pinched the bridge of his nose. No, no, you'll be six feet under, he thought, shaking his head at her naivety.
"Nevertheless, you can't be so careless," he said aloud. "Did anyone see you come in?"
"No," she shook her head. "I used the hidden passage you told me about."
Joffrey sighed in relief. "Well, that's good, at least."
Seeing his anxiety, Senelle rose and walked towards him, her hips swaying with each deliberate step. "Oh, don't be so mad at me, my prince," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, her amber eyes meeting his.
"I'm not angry, my lady," he said, reaching up to caress her cheek. "I worry for you. Being the paramour of the crown prince is a risky endeavor."
Senelle closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Slowly, she intertwined her fingers with his. "Well, since I've been such a bad girl, I think I need to make it up to you," she said, a seductive glint in her eye, turning and leading him to his bed. Joffrey allowed himself to be tugged, his eyes drawn to her swaying figure. Snapping out of his lustful thoughts, he remembered his tasks.
"Actually, Senelle, I have other matters I must attend to, so I think we should take a raincheck in a more secure location."
"Oh, really?" she asked, raising an unconvinced eyebrow. "Your Highness truly doesn't have any time for little old me?"
She reached up, her soft fingers sending chills down his spine as she caressed his cheek.
Fight it! he yelled internally. Fight the urges! No horny!
Despite his best efforts, his sixteen-year-old body betrayed him. Senelle glanced down at the growing tightness in his breeches, a lewd smile spreading across her face.
"Your body betrays your interest, Prince Joffrey," she said with a sly smirk, her hand reaching down to rub the front of his pants, fingers tracing his erection through the leather. Joffrey knew he should stop her, but words failed him as her palm continued its ministrations.
"You've been so busy lately, my prince," she whispered, moving close to his ear, her hand slipping inside his breeches to grasp him directly. "Exhaustion is not productive. Allow me to alleviate some of that pent-up stress."
Senelle whispered, biting his earlobe as her slender fingers stroked him at a teasing pace. Finally, his inhibitions shattered. He grasped the neckline of her sheer gown and tore it off her body, then gripped her waist and flung her onto his bed. The handmaiden sprawled out, inviting him with open arms and legs as he shed his shirt.
"Not a word, do you hear me?" he said sternly, unfastening his breeches.
"Of course, my prince," she responded, spreading her arms wider. "Now come to me, my lion."
[Timeskip]
A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated by their slowing breaths. Joffrey stared up at the white stone ceiling, while Senelle lay face down on a pillow. After a moment, Joffrey broke the quiet.
"So, are you satisfied?" he asked calmly, his breathing steady.
Senelle slowly lifted her head from the pillow, her face filled with a very pleased expression.
"Very, my prince," she smiled, still slightly breathless.
Whenever she and the prince managed one of these ravenous encounters, she was always left bewildered, exhausted, and completely satisfied.
"Good," he said, rolling over to face her. "Now tell me, have you found out anything interesting lately?"
"Wow, not even gonna offer a glass of water before diving into business?" She said sarcastically. "You really know how to make a woman's feathers quiver, my Prince."
Joffrey chuckled, then looked at her expectantly.
"And yes, as a matter of fact, I've seen quite a couple of things recently."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow in interest. "Like what?"
"Water first," she pouted, pointing to the pitcher across the room.
Joffrey sighed, threw back the sheets, and fetched the pitcher and two cups. As he poured, he reiterated, "Now, tell me what you've seen."
"Well, the first thing I saw…" She paused to sip water. "Your betrothed came to see Her Grace in her chambers."
"Sansa?" he asked, surprised.
"The same," she confirmed. "Little doe-eyed noble girl, as far as I could see. I doubt she'll be able to handle that insatiable cock of yours when you finally do wed." She reached down to cradle his stones before he swatted her hand away.
"What did they discuss?" he asked seriously, cutting off any flirtation.
"Nothing too serious," she said, putting a finger to her lip. "Except that the Stark girl seems to be under the impression that you're angry with her."
"What? Why?"
"Something about you not going to see her ever since your attack in the woods with the Shadowcat."
Her eyes drifted to Joffrey's scars. Unconsciously, she reached out, tracing one. He ignored her movement, his chin in his hand. "And what did my mother say in response?"
"Well, she didn't do much to deny the girl's thoughts and even suggested it might be the case. Honestly, the girl looked more anxious leaving than when she entered."
"Why would my mother do that? She knows I'm not angry with her. I've just been busy."
"No clue, but she seemed pretty pleased after the poor girl left, that's for sure," Senelle confirmed, sipping her water. "Honestly, you'd better make it a priority to talk to her before any more misunderstandings form."
Joffrey nodded, adding another item to his mental list. "The Hand's Tourney is soon. I hear she likes watching knight jousting, so I'll do it then."
"She's your betrothed, my prince. Do what you think is best. If it sours between you two, that just means more for me." She smiled lewdly.
"Thanks, I guess." He shrugged off her remark. "Now, what's the second thing you've learned?"
"Oh, something quite interesting indeed," she said, straightening. "Apparently, Bran Stark has awakened from his coma."
"Truly?" Joffrey asked, surprised. "Then I'll have to send a raven to Oldtown to cancel that order with the Citadel."
"Yeah, but that isn't the interesting part," she cut him off. "Jaime Lannister himself came to talk about it with Her Grace in her solar. They seemed quite distressed by the news."
"What did they say?"
"I don't know. I couldn't really hear from my hiding spot. All I managed to hear was something about outfoxing a ten-year-old and going to war with the king if he has to."
"I see." Joffrey nodded, knowing exactly what they were discussing. He looked down at Senelle, who had finished her water.
"This goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway," he said sternly, looking into her eyes. "Don't repeat that to anyone else. Understand?"
"Of course, my prince," she said, smiling. "The only one I speak of such things with is you."
"Good," he nodded. "Keep up the good work and send me a message when you find out anything else."
"As you wish, but where should we meet, considering you don't want me here?"
"I'll have a special apartment set up for us within the Holdfast. I'll let you know when it's ready."
Senelle nodded, standing naked. "Well, I guess we're done here for today," she said, walking to him, pressing her breasts against his chest. "Unless I could interest you in another round?" She drew circles on his chest.
Joffrey grasped her hand, halting her. "As tempting as that might be, I really do have other things to do, my lady."
Senelle pouted before giving up and dressing. Joffrey did the same. Once presentable, he led her to a far wall, pushing a brick that opened a hidden passage.
"Remember," he said, stopping her. "Don't come here again. Am I clear?"
"Of course, Prince Joffrey." She walked up to him. "Once you finish this new hidden apartment, just let me know where it is. Until then, if you ever feel inflamed, you can just slam me against a wall or something and have your way with me."
Joffrey rolled his eyes as she kissed his cheek. "Until next time," she teased, patting his crotch before disappearing down the passage.
Alone, Joffrey moved to his desk, pondering the new information. His mother was trying to sabotage his betrothal. He'd approach Sansa at the tourney. As for his mother and Jaime…
If we're going off the plot, then someone already tried to kill the boy in his bed, he thought. Which means the Stark bitch is on her way or is already here.
Joffrey felt as if his hands were tied since there wasn't much he could do yet. He could only hope his uncle's security detail would prevent capture and the start of war.
"So many chaotic days lie ahead," he muttered, feeling a headache coming on. Calming himself, he remembered the words of one of his idols, Marcus Aurelius.
You can only control yourself for you're just a man.
He breathed deeply, in and out. After several minutes, his mind cleared. Joffrey pulled out parchment, quill, and ink, and spent the evening drawing up blueprints for new innovations once his Bessemer process was operational.
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