Joffrey's twisted face looked exceptionally demonic in the council chamber, which was now reeking heavily of blood.
He looked at the shattered bones and the massive pool of blood on the floor, then flashed back to the image of Lynn forcing him to his knees just moments ago.
An unprecedented, crushing wave of humiliation violently washed over him.
I am the King! The King of the Seven Kingdoms!
How the hell can I be someone else's dog?
He violently slammed his fist onto a nearby table, letting out a heavy, hollow thud.
"Joffrey."
A soft, gentle voice drifted in from behind him.
Joffrey whipped around and saw Lyanna standing right in the doorway of the council chamber.
She was wearing a pure, simple white gown, carrying a silver tray holding a glass of milk and a few sweet pastries.
"You startled me."
Lyanna slowly walked into the room.
She set the tray down on a table that hadn't been splattered with blood.
She didn't even glance at Pycelle's butchered corpse on the floor; her eyes were locked entirely on Joffrey.
"My King." Lyanna's voice was laced with heavy concern.
"What's wrong?"
Joffrey looked at Lyanna, and all the toxic rage and grievance boiling inside him finally found an outlet.
"I was humiliated! Humiliated by that bastard Lynn!"
He pointed frantically at the bloodstains on the floor.
"He knows my secret!!"
Lyanna closed the distance and gently took Joffrey's blood-soaked hands in hers. "Your Grace, please, you need to calm down."
Her voice carried a bizarrely powerful, soothing energy.
"Do you honestly believe Lord Lynn was humiliating you?"
Joffrey snapped his head up.
"Wasn't he?!"
Lyanna shook her head.
Her eyes were filled with profound understanding and raw heartbreak.
"Your Grace, do you remember who it was that crushed all opposition and insisted you inherit the Iron Throne?"
Joffrey froze.
"It was Lord Lynn."
Lyanna's voice dropped even lower.
"He could have easily backed someone else, but he didn't."
"He chose you."
With every word Lyanna spoke, the manic light in Joffrey's eyes flared a little brighter.
"You... you mean..."
"I mean that Lord Lynn wields the most absolute, devastating power in the world, yet he chose to submit to you."
"If you hadn't taken this seat, the realm would have spiraled into absolute chaos and endless slaughter."
"But he didn't let that happen, Your Grace."
Lyanna's tone was incredibly tender.
"He took a massive, calculated risk to back your claim."
"Wasn't that all to protect you? To protect this kingdom?"
"Lord Lynn is... he's a truly brilliant mind." Lyanna looked up, her eyes brimming with sheer admiration for Lynn.
"He knew that if he hadn't stepped in today, and you actually went through with murdering the Queen Mother..."
"Then your two uncles, Stannis and Renly, would have immediately marched on your head."
"You would have been completely alienated and spat on by every lord in Westeros."
"He was saving your life, Your Grace."
"He was using his own harsh methods to help you stabilize your reign."
Joffrey stood there, completely dumbfounded.
Lyanna's words hit him like a bucket of ice water, perfectly untangling the chaotic, short-circuiting mess in his brain.
She was right!
Lynn had a literal dragon and the entire Northern army at his back—he could have easily crowned himself King!
But he didn't!
He knew his absolute darkest secret, but chose to keep his mouth shut!
He took the risk to physically stop him from committing matricide!
He was protecting me!
If it weren't for Lyanna, he definitely would have spiraled into paranoid suspicion against Lynn!
Joffrey fiercely clenched his fists.
"I... I get it now!"
He looked at Lyanna, his eyes overflowing with guilt and immense gratitude. "You're absolutely right! Lyanna, you really are my goddess of wisdom!"
"I totally misjudged him! He was looking out for me this whole time!"
He stepped up to Lyanna and pulled her into a tight, desperate hug. "You're the only one, the only one who truly understands me!"
A faint, completely imperceptible smirk hooked the corner of Lyanna's mouth.
"Your Grace, Lord Lynn is your Hand of the King." Lyanna's voice remained soft and soothing.
"He is your right arm. He is your ultimate, unbreakable shield."
"With him by your side, your grip on the Iron Throne is absolute."
"You just need to know how to control him, and you will go down as the greatest King in the history of Westeros!"
Control him?
Joffrey's eyes instantly lit up.
Of course!
Lord Lynn had the muscle, the brains, and the dragon!
All he had to do was use Lynn effectively, and he would be the undisputed master of the world!
He tried to squeeze Lyanna even tighter, but she seamlessly and smoothly slipped out of his embrace without leaving a trace of rejection.
"You're totally right! I am the King! I am the one in charge!"
Joffrey looked down at the butchered corpse on the floor, then at the drying blood on his own hands.
"Guards! Get in here and clean this mess up!" he roared toward the door.
Lyanna watched the arrogant, delusional high reignite on Joffrey's face, her eyes masking a bottomless, glacial contempt.
She reached out and gently stroked Joffrey's cheek.
"You are brilliant, Your Grace."
...
The Tower of the Hand, the exclusive residence of the Hand of the King.
Cersei was dragged along by Lynn the entire way, moving like a completely soulless puppet.
Her mind was an absolute, blinding blank.
Joffrey actually tried to kill her.
Her own flesh and blood, her own son, had tried to strangle her to death!
The child she had sacrificed absolutely everything for.
For him, she had endured Robert's endless betrayals and sickening humiliations.
For him, she would have done literally anything!
And yet, the second he learned the truth, he didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second before locking his hands around her throat.
Cersei's body shook uncontrollably.
She was completely broken.
She felt like her entire reality had violently collapsed into ash.
Lynn pulled her into his bedchamber and casually tossed her hand aside.
Cersei stumbled, leaning heavily against the wall, her eyes completely dead.
"Starting today, you live here."
Lynn's voice was dead calm.
"You don't step a single foot outside this room without my explicit permission."
Cersei didn't respond.
She just stared blankly at the floorboards, every ounce of light completely drained from her eyes.
Lynn closed the distance, reached out, and gently tipped her chin up.
"What, feeling a little disappointed?"
A dark, amused smirk played on Lynn's face.
Cersei's eyes twitched, but she refused to make eye contact.
Her gaze remained hollow and broken.
"Your sweet boy doesn't want you anymore."
Lynn's tone was completely devoid of sympathy.
"That mighty Lannister name you're so damn proud of couldn't protect you either."
"You have lost absolutely everything."
Tears spilled silently down Cersei's cheeks.
She felt like her chest had been violently ripped open.
"Right now, you have nothing left."
Lynn let go of her chin.
"Except for your daughter, Myrcella."
Cersei's entire body violently jerked.
Myrcella!
Her little girl!
Lynn's woman!
She snapped her head up, staring at Lynn with raw, naked terror.
"Why... why are you bringing her up?!"
Lynn just smiled, saying nothing.
He strolled over to the wine cabinet and casually poured himself a glass of red wine.
"Do you still love her?"
Lynn asked, his tone unnervingly casual.
"Your daughter is my woman now."
"She's doing exceptionally well for herself."
Cersei's heart felt like it had just been hit by a battering ram.
She stared at Lynn, her eyes burning with a toxic mix of deep humiliation and bitter resentment.
She absolutely despised this man.
Hated him for systematically destroying her entire life.
But right now, she was completely powerless.
"Relax." Lynn's voice drifted over.
"I'm not going to mistreat your daughter."
"She's going to live a highly privileged, completely untouchable life."
"Assuming, of course, that you behave yourself."
Cersei's eyes flickered.
She slowly walked over to a heavy chair and slumped into it, completely drained of strength.
She had completely and permanently given up on Joffrey.
But Lynn had just dangled a single, agonizing shred of hope in front of her.
She knew exactly how humiliating the price for that hope was going to be.
But did she really have a choice?
She still had Myrcella.
She bowed her head and let out a muffled, broken sob.
From this exact second forward, her entire life had officially become a sick, degrading joke.