Joffrey woke up the day after the traitor Starck died.
Everything inside him cried out for revenge on everyone. On all the false kings and their sycophants, revenge on the Hound for his betrayal, on Grandfather for his orders, on his uncle for his death—no, it wasn't him, it was that old Elena, and he would take revenge on her and everyone else too.
The first thing he did was imagine a pile of gold coins appearing next to his bed, and in a moment they were really there. a moment later, they disappeared. Jumping out from under the blanket, his first wish was for his mother to appear before him. A moment later, she was there, still wearing her nightgown because it was already light out but still too early.
"What...?"
She didn't have time to finish her sentence before Joffrey tore off her nightgown, exposing her huge breasts. Another moment, and he was already pressing her neck against the wall, lifting her off the ground.
"How dare you sleep with your brother!!!!!" he shouted in her face, his saliva flying in all directions.
"How dare you give birth to me from him?!?!?!?!" He let go of her for a moment, allowing her to fall so he could immediately slam her against the wall.
"How dare you lie to me?!?!?!?!" Repeating his previous action, he finally loosened his grip a little, allowing her to speak.
"Joffrey, I didn't..."
"Sleep with your brother?!!"
"Lie to me?!?!?" Each word was accompanied by a blow against the wall.
"You're worse than Robert's whores. At least they admit who they are, but you're a vile, lying whore!!!!" When he finished hitting her, he let her go, causing her to fall sharply to the ground, hitting her knees. Her back, in addition to the bruises that were beginning to appear, was covered with several streams of blood. Apparently, the wall was not empty, as he had thought.
It took her a moment to come to her senses, and she immediately started screaming, without even getting up from the ground.
"How dare you talk to your mother like that!!!!!"
"I'm not talking to my mother, I'm talking to a whore!!!!!!" The slap was so strong that it threw her back to the table a few meters away, knocking it over in the process.
"I'll prove it!!!!!" Grabbing her by the leg, he threw her onto the bed in one swift motion.
Tearing her shirt in the process, he jumped on the bed. Slightly disoriented, it took her a few seconds to focus her gaze on Joffrey, who was completely naked with a rock-hard penis. Realizing that she had come to her senses, he leaned over her, holding her hands and bringing his face close to hers.
Without a word, he kissed her. Still not understanding what was happening, she did not even react, and at the same time, he quickly explored her mouth with his tongue and finally bit her lip until it bled.
Immediately after that, he thrust his huge phallus into her vagina with one sharp thrust, not caring about the woman's integrity, and immediately picked up a very, very fast pace, pounding into her like a blacksmith beats metal to shape it. his mouth, still covered in her blood, began to mercilessly bite her nipples as if they were not tender flesh but a dried piece of meat.
"Do you like it?!" He had to make an effort to make her hear his words amid her incessant screams.
"That's how you fucked 'Uncle' Jamie, am I right!?!?!?!"
"Now fuck me!!!!" Shoving his cock as deep as possible, he doubled in size, stretching Cersei from the inside, but this did not affect the pace of his movements. Her nipples, already bloody, could not withstand it, and first the left and then the right were bitten off, only to be transferred in a moment by a kiss that silenced Cersei's incessant screams, right into her mouth, during which she managed to bite her son's lip.
"You bitch!" A slap with his right hand knocked out several teeth along with her nipples. A moment later, his left hand twisted the woman's wrist 180 degrees, and turning her forearm in the opposite direction, the already loud screams intensified even more. At that moment, the king looked with pleasure at his mother's face, stained with blood and saliva, memorizing every detail. Slowing down the pace of the thrusts a little, he increased their force, reaching depths she could not have imagined. Her bloodied breasts, which had previously been bouncing wildly, slowed down but still splattered blood across the room. After all, it could not last forever. He made his last thrusts in complete silence, except for the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and the creaking of the already broken bed. He began to cum inside the unconscious Cersei, filling her completely, which was noticeable as her stomach deflated. Slowly withdrawing, he released a little more of his semen onto her chest.
He stepped back, got dressed, and left the room with a smile on his face.
**************************************************************
Joffrey strode swiftly and confidently—never before in his life had he felt such determination. He glanced involuntarily at the Iron Throne, which no longer aroused any of his former emotions: now it was just an uncomfortable and disgusting chair. He abruptly opened the door next to the throne, attracting the attention of everyone present with a loud noise, entered the hall, walked a dozen meters, and unceremoniously sat down in the chair at the head of the table, throwing his legs up on the tabletop.
"Why are you silent?
"My king, forgive us. Your father has not attended the council for so long that we... we simply forgot.
"I am not my father. And this time I forgive your disrespect towards me — but for the last time.
"Yes, of course, forgive the old man. It will not happen again.
"I hope so, my lord.
Joffrey bowed his head slightly.
"What were you discussing before I entered?"
"Your Grace, we were trying to predict what action the North might take."
"And what might that be?"
"War, my king."
"Really, Lord Baelish?"
"Does it take a council to reach that conclusion?"
"If you have all come to this conclusion, you may be free to leave."
The advisors exchanged glances, but obeyed without question and rose from their seats.
Joffrey moved closer to the table, poured himself some wine, and leaned back in his chair, holding the glass casually. Leaving Cersei, he had intended to kill them all, first satisfying his rage, but on the way to the council chamber, his mind changed. He was not used to so many opinions: as soon as he focused on one, dozens more arose. He did not even need to walk halfway to change his mind completely.
Now no one could compete with him—neither in strength nor in anything else. It was not worth depriving himself of the pleasure of watching these idiots try in vain to outplay him.
He got up and headed for his chambers. The Hound was already waiting for him at the exit.
Everything in the room remained as it had been. Joffrey pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed, staring intently at his unconscious mother. He looked at her for a long time, concentrating, weighing what to do next. He knew the decision: cure her. She was still needed — as part of the game, as an instrument of power, as a shadow of the past that would now serve him as his toy.
After his rebirth, his mind had changed. Quick, sharp thoughts lined up in a clear order, and that constant, irritating itch somewhere in the back of his mind disappeared. Before, it only let up when someone else was suffering; now, cold calm and clarity reigned within him.
His attitude toward people had also changed. Once he had viewed others only as things — useful or superfluous. Now he saw first and foremost their usefulness, their place on the board, their role in future moves. And this seemed to him far more important than any former impulses. His attitude toward the opposite sex had also changed. Like everyone else, they were just tools to him, but now he looked at the woman in front of him and, despite the injuries and blood, he craved her like a predator who hadn't eaten meat in a long time.
He moved closer. With a barely perceptible, almost weightless touch, he ran his hand over her cheek, pausing for a moment, as if studying familiar features. His hand slid to her neck, down to her chest, her stomach, and even lower — and then suddenly stopped. His hand returned to her stomach, and a maniacal smile spread across his face.
She loves children so much, he thought. So fate still has surprises in store for her.
Evening came. Joffrey sat silently in his chair, thinking and watching. When the rays of the setting sun broke through the windows, she finally woke up. First came a scream — sharp, piercing. Then her hands instinctively reached for her chest, and a new cry escaped her lips: her broken arm reminded her of itself with unbearable pain.
She opened her eyes. Her gaze instantly fixed on him. The cries of pain subsided for a moment, only to turn into cries of fear. She began to move away, throwing pillows aside, ignoring the pain, just to create some distance between them.
Trying to reach the door, she fell several times, but eventually stopped getting up and just crawled. Her hand reached forward, toward salvation, toward the exit, toward freedom. Her fingers had almost touched the door — but instead of the handle, she grabbed his penis.
"Why scream?" he said calmly. "You enjoyed it."
She couldn't move or say a word. Only her eyes — wide open — betrayed the animal fear that gripped her from within.
"It's useless," Joffrey added almost indifferently.
He barely waved his hand. And the pain disappeared. The broken arm healed.
"You can move your arm if you keep masturbating. I'll cure you."
For a moment, the hand stopped, but then continued to move. Several minutes passed.
"Open your mouth," she obeyed, I grabbed her eyelids and instantly found myself above her, shoving my cock all the way down her throat, pushing it inside, I continued and continued, and she could do nothing but look up from under my pubic bone at my smile, and as I came, I came a little on her face.
"Good girl, you're an obedient whore," I waved my hand and the wounds and blood disappeared. But I left my semen. She put on one of her exquisite red and gold dresses, and once she was able to move again, the first thing she did was roll off the bed and start vomiting my semen. This went on for several minutes until she stopped and looked at me with animalistic fear. I deliberately walked around her and stood in front of her, so I don't know if she was looking into my eyes or at my giant stone penis.
"Sit down."
She obeyed without resistance.
"Talk. Don't be afraid. I... got a little carried away. But you have to understand me.
"You... are not my son."
"No. I am your son. The only difference is that I am a little older. I have already lived one life — and died of poison at my own wedding. Is that enough for you?"
She shuddered.
— Who...?
— Olenna Tyrell, together with Baelish. She didn't want Margaery to marry me.
- The silence grew thick.
- — What will you do now?
— I will live. And I will live well. You've probably already noticed that I'm capable of... fantastic things.
He waved his hand lightly, and the young woman was replaced by an old woman. Another wave, and she was replaced by a child. In a moment, everything returned to normal.
"I can do anything," he continued calmly. "I can change your memory so that you will love me unconditionally for the rest of your life. But that's boring. I want the real you."
He tilted his head.
"And if you refuse, it's okay. I'll just clean up your memories from time to time."
He saw her eyes widen. And he had no doubt: the thought of refusal had not even had time to form. Her gaze already revealed a different calculation — a search for ways to survive, to influence, to use the situation.
"So what?"
The pause lasted longer than the words.
"I agree."
"Great. I got up, stroked my left cheek with one hand, and lightly hit the other with my penis. This is going to be fun."