Chapter 116 - Punishing Nobles, Dorne's Bargain, & A New Life II

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"Why? Why have you done this?"

A part of the Brightwater Keep in the distance burned, the night dark yet menacing. The army of the King camped neatly, orderly, yet the battle was already over.

"Damned! All of you will be damned! M-My wife, my sons… you killed the—"

Pa!

Ser Sandor Clegane slapped the Lord of Brightwater Keep, Alester Florent, and silenced him. The nobleman was on his knees, bleeding from places, his clothes torn as he was quite literally dragged out of the castle with a rope tied to him and a horse's saddle.

"Shut the hell up, Lordling," Sandor growled and aimed his sword at the Lord's head. "Should have done the thinking before rebelling against the King."

"I didn't rebel!"

"Ignoring the King's call for arms is rebelling." Sandor prepared to strike. "And His Grace hasn't forgotten. You stood with Stannis."

Woosh!

The blade fell. House Florent, now fully extinct.

A similar scene played out at Bandallon and Three Towers. Ser Jamie and Ser Arthur of the Golden Legion attacked the two and easily erased the two bloodlines.

It was enough to send a message to the rest of the ignorant Lords of the Reach. Soon enough, word would reach the rest of the realm. A few Lords of Crownlands were also hesitant to obey the King's call.

Meanwhile, the North was fully united to stand with Joffrey. Riverlands was already in Joffrey's grasp, thanks to Edmure's lack of wit. Vale was also his due to Robert Arryn being Joffrey's own ward, now a loyal, brainwashed youngster ready to lead the Vale.

Pieces were falling into place.

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It took 15 days to go from Oldtown to Highgarden. Traveling with three hundred armed guards was not the fastest way to travel, but Joffrey didn't dare travel light. Knowing how many enemies he had, he had to keep a sizable fighting force by his side at all times.

Thankfully, Highgarden was now a Baratheon and Lannister stronghold, with Tommen acting as its Lord. House Baratheon of Highgarden was born already.

"Brother." Tommen, ignoring all etiquette, regressed to his younger self and hugged Joffrey as soon as the Golden Lion got off the horse.

A little taken aback, Joffrey hugged Tommen back for a fleeting moment. He didn't know what made Tommen act so favorably towards him, but he wasn't one to mind.

"How have you been, Tommen? I'm sure life at Highgarden is suiting you perfectly." Joffrey asked, and followed the young Lord into the magnificent castle. "Where's Myrcella?"

"She's with the guest from Sunspear, Brother," Tommen replied, not even bothering to use Your Grace.

"Take me to her then."

Joffrey entered the dining area, one of many. This one was on a sheltered terrace with a view of the flower fields. The breeze was soothing and fresh, one of the better things about Highgarden. All the damage that he'd done to the castle during the siege had been repaired.

"Brother!" Myrcella jumped from her chair first and hugged Joffrey.

This time, Joffrey was a little awkward. He hadn't forgotten her silly request to lie with him. Thankfully, Myrcella had never brought that up again. She was his sister, and that was all he saw her as.

"Enjoying your days in Highgarden while your brother wears out his horse holding the realm together. I almost envy you, Myrcella." His tone lightened, just a little. "I'm glad you're well."

They were all he had for a family, after all. However rotten he may be in heart, he didn't want any harm to reach them. Even more so when he knew their fates that he'd already changed.

Myrcella giggled and released him. "This is Lady Ellaria, Brother. She said you already know her?"

This mischievous cat. Joffrey noticed Myrcella's smug gaze, as if guessing if he'd fucked this woman too.

"Aye, I met her in King's Landing." Joffrey approached the dining table. Ellaria Sand had stood up already and presented a rather savory sight to Joffrey. He'd already seen her plenty and even explored her over during that farewell hug.

Her pale dusky frame was as tall as him, slender, yet ripe with bountiful tits and arse, he'd felt them personally against his chest and hands. Her hair was long, nearing her waist, silky and straight, like black curtains framing her back and shoulders, her ears ornate with golden jewelry.

But her attire was too conservative, he felt. She wore loose, deep red robes that covered everything. With a collar, even her neck was barely visible.

"Your Grace." Ellaria bowed her head softly, her dark eyes telling a different tale. A tale of desperate thoughts. While he didn't consider her face beautiful to the same standard as the likes of Daenerys, Sansa, and Val, she was still attractive and exotic.

Joffrey waved his hand to gesture and took a seat himself at the head seat of the dining table. On his right corner, Tommen sat down, and on his left, beyond the corner, Ellaria.

"How is Oberyn, Lady Ellaria?" he asked, remembering the first time he met that man in Chataya's brothel. Fucking Alayaya and Marei in his and Ellaria's company was one of the fond memories he had.

A visible frown of sadness marred Ellaria's face. "He's… alive, Your Grace."

It'd be mercy to kill that man and end his misery at this point.

"Even now, I dream of that day," Joffrey said, his fist striking the table with a sharp crack. He wore the mask of a grieving friend well. "That fool. I told him—again and again—to wear his full armor. But no, he wouldn't listen... May the Seven take away his pains."

Ellaria visibly jolted when Joffrey smashed his fist on the table. Her eyes softened towards the King, feeling his sorrow. "He answers in murmurs, if at all. But I will carry your good wishes to him, Your Grace."

Joffrey nodded and got to the point. "I'm only staying the night, Lady Ellaria. At dawn, I ride for King's Landing. If you have something to say, say it quickly."

"I hoped to gain your support, to…" Ellaria glanced at the members around the table.

Getting the hint, Joffrey postponed the discussion. "Let's have the meal first, and we'll resume our talk in private."

It being the middle of the day, there was plenty of time to talk. Joffrey focused on his siblings and listened to their stories. Apparently, Tommen had grown a liking to hunting, albeit only chickens. Myrcella, meanwhile, liked to study flowers and how to grow them.

They lead such peaceful lives, with no worries and enough time to pursue their hobbies. Joffrey envied them. But again, he loved being a King, and in a way, it was also his hobby. Of course, fucking was a part of it and he got that plenty.

It was the lack of worry among Tommen and Myrcella that he envied the most. He had Rh'llor constantly reminding him of his doom. White Walkers constantly threatening to march south.

Chuckling, chatting, he ate a small meal and then retreated to a private chamber. It was Tommen's solar, which was rarely used. It once belonged to Mace Tyrell, so it was huge and lavish, books all over the walls, decorations plenty. There was a large, lavish table in front of the center window, the chair behind it even more extravagant.

But Joffrey didn't go there and instead grabbed the common visitor's chair, turning it around. He then sat down on it, legs crossed, staring at Ellaria as she entered the Solar and closed the door behind.

"So, tell me, Lady Ellaria—what is it you want?" he asked sternly.

Seeing no seat offered, Ellaria exhaled a long, exhausting breath and instead of crossing her arms proudly, clasped her hands low under her belly, nervousness hinted.

"Your Grace, I'm sure you're aware of the situation in Sunspear. Of what's left of House Martell. Perhaps it's foolish, but I thought… I hoped I might still mend it. If you would—if you would grant me your support… I would try to lead Dorne."

Joffrey crossed his arms, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "Bold. I like that. But far too ambitious, I'm afraid. You're no noble, and yet you think you'll rule Dorne? I can't tell if it's foolish pride or sheer desperation. Doran already has his daughter to scheme for him… though I hear she's little better than a common whore."

"Precisely why I have come for your support. With your blessing, I can overcome Prince Doran and Arianne. I ca—"

"Let's be clear, Lady Ellaria. You care nothing for me, nor the crown. You came to use me—for your own conquest. It wasn't friendship that brought you here or any bond between us. It was power. My power." Joffrey sneered at her naive attempts to sway him. "Now stop wasting my time with soft words. Make an offer that profits me… or you can crawl back to Dorne."

A visible precipitation emerged on Ellaria's forehead.

"Dorne… Dorne will kneel as the seventh kingdom. Its—its princes, its ways… all of it, gone."

"And you think I can't achieve that with my wife returning with three dragons? Please. I never counted on Dorne to lift a finger against the dead. But tell me—can Dorne stand against the combined strength of the rest of the realm?" Joffrey suggested a dark and violent future for Dorne.

"You have nothing to offer me that would make a premature war with Doran worth my time."

In silence, Joffrey watched her contorting expressions. Ellaria Sand didn't have much standing or support as Oberyn's paramour. She clearly needed Joffrey's support to establish herself as Dorne's ruler, even if she were to single-handedly win Sunspear.

So, what will you do now? Joffrey asked in thoughts, musing over her dilemma.

"Then…" She finally looked back at Joffrey. Then a mischievous smile slid upon her pale brown lips. Her dark eyes flickered with an understanding. And she was sure she saw it in the King's gaze, too.

"I'm all ears," Joffrey replied.

But instead of a response, Ellaria Sand moved. No, not on her feet. Instead, she dropped herself to the floor, on her knees. Her hands followed suit. Her fine, shapely hips swayed in that figure-hugging gown, as she began crawling closer towards Joffrey's chair.

Hah! Joffrey hid his chuckle. I knew she'd end up between my legs, but to crawl… this is new.

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This story is coming to an end in chapter 43.

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