Rose was quickly summoned. Upon entering, she saw Joffrey—eyes blood-red, looking mad—and beside him, that man whose calm expression filled her with primal fear: Lynn.
"Lord Lynn." Rose bowed. Corner of her eye cautiously glanced at the adjacent room's commotion. The crying and tearing sounds had stopped. Replaced by a man's heavy panting and Lyana's suppressed sobbing.
Joffrey's body tensed like a drawn bow. Every muscle twitching with rage.
"That girl, Lyana." Lynn ignored Joffrey's state. Spoke lightly to Rose. "Name your price."
Rose's heart tightened. She knew—the main act had arrived.
"My lord, this is..." Rose's face showed difficulty. All scripted by Lord Lynn beforehand. "Lyana's our top girl. Countless nobles queue just to see her..."
"I don't care about that!" Joffrey whipped around. Like a cornered beast. Roared at Rose. "Name your price! I'm buying her! Now!"
Rose—frightened by his appearance—heart contracting. But steeled herself. Following the script, raised five fingers. "Five... five thousand gold dragons."
A sky-high price even in King's Landing.
"I'll give you ten thousand!" Joffrey roared without thinking. He had no concept of gold dragons. Only knew: he needed an absolutely crushing number to declare ownership.
"Make that fat pig leave! Never touch Lyana again!"
"Your Grace, you don't have that much money." Lynn calmly reminded from the side.
"I don't, but my mother does! House Lannister does!" Joffrey completely lost reason. "I'll write to Casterly Rock now! My grandfather will give me money!"
"No need." Lynn shook his head. Drew a note from King's Landing treasury from his coat. Tossed it to Rose. "Here's ten thousand gold dragons. From now on, Lyana has no relationship with you."
His own property. Left hand to right hand. Unfortunately, the hooked Joffrey overlooked this.
"As for that man next door, make him leave. If he dares appear in King's Landing again, I'll make him regret it."
"Yes! Yes! Rest assured, my lord!" Rose clutched the ten-thousand-gold note. Trembling with excitement. Bowing repeatedly. Per agreement, she'd receive substantial commission. Condition: complete Lynn's scripted performance.
Rose withdrew with profuse thanks. Soon, the adjacent room's door opened. The mercenary cursed his way out. Before leaving, spat thick phlegm on the floor. For explosive acting, Lynn never stinted rewards. Soon this mercenary also received commission. Swore never to appear in King's Landing again. He could take his hundred gold dragons and live freely elsewhere.
In the room—only Lyana's weak sobbing remained. Joffrey couldn't hold back. Shoved open the door. Rushed in.
The scene before him made his eyes split with rage. Lyana—clothes disheveled—curled in the bed's corner. That pale purple sheer gown torn in several places. Exposed large patches of snow-white skin and purple-blue bruises. She hugged her knees. Trembling. Like a butterfly with rain-soaked wings. Fragile—as if she'd die next second.
"Lyana! Are you alright!" Joffrey rushed over. Pulled her into his arms.
"Your Grace..." Lyana raised her tear-stained face. Seeing Joffrey—those blue eyes exploded with post-disaster light. She couldn't control herself anymore. Burst into loud sobs.
"Don't be afraid. It's over." Joffrey clumsily patted her back. Voice hoarse with heartache and rage. "I'm here. Your prince came to save you. I'm taking you away. Away from this hell!"
He removed his cloak. Tightly wrapped Lyana's still-trembling body. Then scooped her up horizontally.
When he carried Lyana out, Lynn leaned against the corridor wall. Watching leisurely.
"You're taking her to the Red Keep?" Lynn asked.
"Yes!" Joffrey answered decisively. "She's my woman. She should live in a castle!"
"Under what identity?" Lynn posed the most realistic question. "A whore bought from a brothel?"
Joffrey's steps halted. The fervor on his face instantly cooled. Right—he couldn't just bring Lyana back. His mother, father, those damned Small Council members—how would they see him? How would they treat Lyana?
"A king never explains to people." Lynn slowly walked before him. Voice carrying strange magic. "He only creates facts. Then makes everyone accept them. We'll give her a new identity. One worthy of you."
"Lyana Waters. A deceased knight's bastard daughter from the Reach. Her father served King Robert at the Battle of the Trident. Unfortunately died. She's alone. Came to King's Landing seeking distant relatives, but unexpectedly..."
In moments, Lynn fabricated a flawless backstory for Lyana. Heroic father, tragic background, noble blood—even as a bastard, enough to silence everyone.
Joffrey's eyes brightened. This idea was perfect! Joffrey looked at Lynn. Eyes showing heartfelt admiration.
"Don't worry, Your Grace. My people happen to know the official managing household registries." Lynn spoke lightly. "A little gold will complete identity papers for this poor knight's daughter. Tonight, take her to the Red Keep. Tomorrow morning, official documents proving her identity will arrive at the Hand's Tower. I'll handle this for you."
Joffrey looked at Lynn. Felt this man was omnipotent.
"Lynn..." Joffrey spoke sincerely. "You... you're truly my best friend."
Lynn smiled. Patted his shoulder. "Of course. But today's matter is our little secret. You can't mention it to anyone. Otherwise Lyana's life is in danger."
Joffrey nodded repeatedly. "Don't worry, Lord Lynn. I'm not that foolish."
Only then did Lynn nod with "relief." "Go, Your Grace. Show everyone your mercy and majesty. Let your fiancée see what kind of woman a true prince should have."
That last sentence—like a key—opened the darkest box in Joffrey's heart. Sansa Stark. That always-cold, wooden woman. He'd show her what a real beauty was! Make her ashamed of her dullness and rigidity!
When Joffrey—carrying a cloaked woman—swaggered through the Red Keep's courtyard, the entire castle was shocked. Kingsguard guards tried stopping him. But Joffrey drove them back: "The king's family matters—when is it your dogs' turn to interfere?"
Joffrey proceeded unobstructed. Burst directly into the Hand's Tower dining hall. At this moment, King Robert was feasting ministers after returning from hunting.
At the long table—Ned, Cersei, Jaime, Sansa... Nearly all important figures present!
When Joffrey appeared at the door carrying Lyana, the noisy hall instantly fell silent. All eyes focused on the woman in the prince's arms.
"Joffrey! What are you doing!" Cersei shot up. That beautiful face full of shock and rage. She couldn't understand why Joffrey would do this before everyone!
Robert also stopped tearing at mutton. Frowned at his always-troublesome son.
Joffrey ignored everyone. His gaze directly bypassed all. Stabbed hard at Sansa Stark.
Sansa held her wine cup. Expression somewhat confused. Seemed not yet understanding the situation. That pure, innocent appearance—in Joffrey's eyes—so hypocritical and offensive.
"Sansa." Joffrey spoke. Voice carrying undisguised malice and showing off. He gently set down Lyana. Then yanked off her cloak.
Lyana's delicate, moving figure instantly exposed to everyone's sight. She wore Joffrey's obviously ill-fitting cloak. Inside—torn sheer silk. Snow-white skin and ambiguous bruises faintly visible. She instinctively hid behind Joffrey. Those clear blue eyes full of fear and unease.
The entire hall gasped.
"Look at her." Joffrey pointed at Lyana. To Sansa, more like announcing to everyone. "This is what a woman should be! She's gentle, passionate, knows how to worship a man! Unlike some people—"
Joffrey's gaze returned to Sansa. Full of contempt and disgust. "Like an ice block from the North. Cold, hard, boring to the extreme!"
Humiliation! Naked humiliation! Before all the realm's nobles—degrading his fiancée to worthlessness!
Ned Stark's face instantly turned liver-colored. He shot up. But before Ned could erupt, Sansa beside him reacted first.
Sansa's wine cup clattered to the floor. Shattered. Her beautiful face instantly lost all color. Became pale as paper. She looked at Joffrey. Then at the pitiful golden-haired girl behind him. Those beautiful blue eyes rapidly filled with tears.
"Joffrey..." Sansa's voice trembled. Full of incredulous pain. "How... how could you... do this to me?"
That tearful appearance—that despair of being publicly betrayed by a loved one—made many noblewomen present feel pity.
Lyana hid behind Joffrey. Seeing Sansa's appearance, a barely perceptible smile flashed in her eyes. But she quickly masked this emotion. Timidly tugged Joffrey's sleeve. Voice only he could hear. Tearfully whispered: "Your Grace... Lady Sansa... she must be so sad... It's all my fault... I shouldn't appear here... I'm just a humble orphan. How can I compare to Lady Sansa... I'm so sorry. It's all my fault..."
This "white lotus" speech didn't make Joffrey feel guilty. Instead aroused stronger protective desire and rebellious psychology.
"Shut up!" Joffrey rudely interrupted her. But shouted at Sansa. "Who are you showing that mourning face to? I'm telling you, Sansa Stark! I'm fucking sick of you! From today, Lyana is my woman! She'll live in the Red Keep! I'll give her all the favor you can't get! As for you..."
Joffrey sneered. "You can go back to your frozen Winterfell!"
Ned was stunned. Pointed at Joffrey. Too angry to speak. Tell Sansa to go back to Winterfell? Wasn't this roundabout telling him to leave too?
Sansa's body violently swayed. As if unable to bear this huge blow. Face growing paler. She looked at Joffrey. Lips moved. Wanted to say something. Finally only became a heartbroken sob.
Sansa whipped around. Covered her face. Like a deer shot in vital parts by a hunter. Stumbled out of the hall.
Only—at the moment of turning—deep in her tear-blurred eyes flashed relief and wild joy. The performance was over. Finally over. Joffrey this fool—even stupider than imagined.
"YOU BASTARD!!!" A thunderous roar shook the hall's dome. Robert Baratheon's corpulent body shot up from his seat. He kicked over the table before him. Cups, plates, roast meat rolled everywhere.
His face—purple-red with rage—turbid eyes burning with towering fury. "You shameless thing!" Robert—like an enraged boar—rushed before Joffrey in two steps. Fan-like hand mercilessly slapped over.
SMACK! A crisp, loud slap. Joffrey spun twice on the spot. Fell on his rear. Half his face visibly swelling high.
"You dare humiliate Ned's daughter before me?!" Robert pointed at his nose. Spittle flying. "Do you fucking think I won't beat you?! Stark is my most loyal ally! You dare treat them like this?"
Robert turned. Looked at Ned—already trembling with rage. Voice full of guilt and slight unease. "Ned! My brother! I've wronged you! I didn't teach this bastard properly!"
Robert pointed at Lyana still standing there. Roared at the Kingsguard: "Drag this woman of unknown origin out! Throw her in the black cells!"
"No! Don't!" Joffrey struggled up from the ground. Like a food-guarding mad dog. Spread arms blocking Lyana. "Who dares touch her! She's my woman!"
"Your woman?" Robert laughed with rage. Kicked Joffrey aside. Then strode before Ned. Heavily patted his shoulder. "Ned, rest assured! I'll give you an explanation for this!"
Robert's gaze swept the hall. Finally fell back on his worthless son. Eyes ice-cold. "This betrothal! I see no need to continue!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (120+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here: patreon.com/DarkGolds
Happy reading, everyone!