The King's bedchamber.
Crash!
A solid gold goblet was violently hurled against the floor, letting out an ear-splitting clatter.
"Get out! Every single one of you, get the fuck out!"
Joffrey violently snapped up from his bed, his eyes bloodshot, his chest heaving heavily.
The events of yesterday replayed in his head on a vicious, nightmare loop. Pycelle's blood, his mother's terrified face, and Lynn's pitch-black, all-knowing eyes...
He had killed a man. He had gotten his revenge. He had uncovered the world-shattering secret of his own bloodline.
He had even taken the mother who had suffocated him his entire life and tossed her to Lynn like a piece of discarded trash.
He had done absolutely everything he wanted to do!
So why the hell didn't he feel an ounce of satisfaction? Instead, his chest felt like it was being crushed under a massive boulder!
Especially when he thought of Cersei.
No matter how toxic, how filthy that woman was, she was still his mother!
And right now, she was in the Tower of the Hand.
...Highly likely spread-eagle in another man's bed!
Just picturing it made a toxic cocktail of raw humiliation and rabid violence explode in Joffrey's chest, burning his insides until it physically hurt!
That was his mother!
Even if he didn't want her anymore, even if he wanted to strangle her with his own two hands, it wasn't some other man's place to defile her!
Lynn!
It was always fucking Lynn!
The name hung over his head like an insurmountable, pitch-black mountain, completely crushing him.
He knew his absolute darkest secret. He held the power of life and death over him...
And now, he was claiming his mother!
And the worst part was, Joffrey didn't even dare entertain a single thought of fighting back.
Lynn... Lynn was a loyal subject!
He was protecting him!
That twisted realization just made the humiliation infinitely worse!
"Your Grace, it's time for breakfast."
A soft voice drifted in. Lyanna, carrying a silver tray, glided silently into the room like a timid doe.
"I said get the fuck out!" Joffrey roared over his shoulder.
But Lyanna didn't flinch. She set the tray down and walked right up to him, her gentle eyes perfectly reflecting his rabid frenzy.
"Are you still troubled by what happened with the Queen Mother?"
"Troubled? Why the hell would I be troubled?!" Joffrey barked defensively. "That bitch got exactly what she deserved! Tossing her to Lynn was letting her off easy!"
Lyanna let out a soft sigh, settling over Joffrey's frantic nerves like a feather.
"Your Grace, I understand your anger. But the Queen Mother is still your mother. Blood is thicker than water."
"I fear your actions might draw harsh whispers from the lords of Westeros."
"Let them fucking whisper! I am the King!"
"Yes, you are the King."
Lyanna's voice was soothing, carrying a bizarre, hypnotic pull.
"But a merciful, magnanimous King commands the love of his people."
"You don't want the world to think you're incapable of showing grace even to your own mother, do you?"
Joffrey aggressively clawed at his golden hair in sheer frustration, completely speechless.
He knew she was right.
But he couldn't just swallow his wounded pride!
Just then, a guard stormed into the room, his face plastered with panic, and dropped straight to one knee.
"Your Grace!"
"What the hell is it?!" Joffrey snapped, desperately needing a punching bag.
The guard's voice physically shook. "The Queen Mother... she's returned!"
"What?!"
Joffrey vaulted to his feet, his face a sudden mask of shock and raw fury.
She was back?
Lynn fucked her for one night, got bored, and just tossed her back like a used rag?!
A violent surge of pure, unadulterated rage shot straight to his brain!
What the hell did Lynn think his mother was?
Some cheap street whore he could just throw away?!
"Drag her in here!"
Joffrey marched to the center of the chamber, his fists clenched tight. He was already brainstorming a hundred different ways to absolutely humiliate the woman!
Moments later, Cersei appeared in the doorway.
She looked like an absolute wreck.
She was still wearing the same gown from yesterday, completely ruined with wine stains, dirt, and heavy wrinkles.
Her golden hair hung in an unkempt, tangled mess, and her once flawlessly beautiful face was completely drained, screaming of pure exhaustion.
Her eyes were red and heavily swollen; it was obvious she had spent the entire night sobbing.
"Well, well, look who we have here,"
Joffrey sneered the second he saw her pathetic state. A whole night's worth of toxic malice violently erupted, his tone dripping with acidic mockery.
"If it isn't our high and mighty Queen Mother."
"What happened? Did your new master kick you to the curb already?"
"Tsk, tsk. How pathetic. I honestly thought you'd manage to keep his bed warm for at least a few days."
Joffrey's words were designed to gut her.
If this were the old Cersei, she would have slapped him across the face by now.
But instead, she just stood perfectly still, her head bowed, letting her son verbally butcher her without a word of protest.
Only Lynn's strict orders echoed in her mind.
Give him exactly what he wants to see. The most pathetic, broken, groveling mother in the world.
Seeing her stay completely silent, Joffrey assumed she was just humiliated and crushed. His arrogant high skyrocketed.
"What, cat got your tongue? You always had so much to say before!"
"Are you trying to look pathetic to make me pity you? Well let me tell you something—it's not going to work!"
"A vicious, cheap slut like you belongs down in Flea Bottom, letting the lice-infested beggars—"
He didn't even get to finish his sentence.
Thud!
A heavy, muffled sound.
Cersei—the fiercely proud lioness who had always kept her chin high and treated the rest of the world like insects—literally let her knees buckle and dropped straight down onto the freezing marble floor!
Every ounce of toxic bile instantly choked in Joffrey's throat.
His eyes bulged out of his skull like he'd just seen a ghost, staring in absolute, paralyzed disbelief at his mother kneeling right at his feet.
She... she actually got on her knees?!
So decisively, so utterly completely!
"Joffrey."
Cersei slowly raised her head. Her tear-streaked face was completely stripped of its usual resentment and bitterness. Instead, it was radiating an almost fanatical, devout worship!
Her voice was loaded with an unprecedented, raw sincerity.
"You were right."
"I was wrong. I was wrong from the very beginning."
"I always tried to control you."
"But I forgot... I was stupid enough to forget... that you are a born King!"
"You have more vision, more decisive ruthlessness than me, than your grandfather Tywin, even than Robert... than any King in the history of Westeros!"
Cersei stared up into Joffrey's shell-shocked face, her voice physically shaking with emotion.
"Yesterday, in the council chamber... that was the moment I truly saw you for what you are!"
"You didn't hesitate for a second to execute that traitor Pycelle to avenge your father! That kind of sheer willpower, that absolute resolve—even Tywin could never hope to match it!"
"In that exact moment, I finally woke up. I realized that under your rule, Westeros is destined for unparalleled glory!"
"I am so incredibly proud of you! My King!"
Joffrey's brain essentially flatlined.
He just stood there like an idiot, feeling like his skull had just been pumped full of pure liquid honey, buzzing with euphoria.
What... what the hell was happening?
Was she actually praising him?
Was she completely submitting to him?
An unprecedented, colossal wave of pure megalomaniacal satisfaction violently erupted in his chest like a volcano, making him feel so light he could practically float!
So that was it!
After everything she had just been through, she had finally been completely broken and conquered by his absolute royal majesty!
"I... I have made far too many mistakes in the past."
Fresh tears spilled from Cersei's eyes, but this time, they looked like tears of pure relief and joy.
"Right now, I just want to stay."
"I don't want to be the Queen Mother anymore. I just want to be the most humble, lowly mother in the world."
"A mother who can quietly stand in the shadows and watch her magnificent son rule his empire!"
She literally crawled two steps forward on her knees, staring up at Joffrey, her posture utterly degraded into the dirt.
"I'm begging you, my King."
"Just give me this one chance."
"Even if you lock me in the darkest, dampest stable in the Red Keep, I will do it willingly!"
Joffrey's breathing spiked, turning rapid and shallow.
He looked down at his mother—kneeling, desperately begging, practically worshipping him like a deity.
In that exact second, he felt like a literal god!
The absolute, undisputed master of life, death, and human will!
He had won!
He had absolutely, completely won!
He hadn't just forced this woman to surrender; he had fundamentally broken her soul until she worshipped him!
"Haha... HAHAHAHAHA!"
Joffrey threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound exploding with raw, unhinged arrogance and triumph.
He strutted right up to Cersei.
"Fine."
He spoke with the condescending tone of a god tossing scraps to a peasant.
"Since you are my mother, I will show you mercy. I will allow you to stay."
"However!" He pivoted instantly, a sick, cruel flash igniting in his eyes.
"You are absolutely not living here anymore. Your servants, your jewels, your political power—it's all completely gone."
"I'm dumping you in that abandoned, isolated tower right next to the Great Sept of Baelor."
"You will rot in there, and you will use your eyes to watch exactly how I become the greatest King the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen!"
"Thank you for your infinite mercy, my King!"
Cersei looked up, an expression of overwhelming, ecstatic gratitude blooming across her face.
"Your brilliance will forever light my path."
Joffrey let out a highly satisfied snort and waved his hand dismissively.
"Guards. Drag her out of here."
Two Gold Cloaks stepped up and roughly grabbed Cersei by the arms, hauling her away like a common prisoner.
Cersei didn't put up a single ounce of resistance, remaining as compliant as a slaughtered lamb.
But right at the exact second she was being dragged through the doorway, a dead-calm voice cut through the air.
"Halt."
Everyone in the room flinched and snapped their heads toward the door.
Lynn was standing perfectly still in the threshold. His pitch-black silhouette blocked the light from the corridor, keeping his expression completely hidden in the shadows.
He stepped into the room, his gaze slicing right past the entire crowd and locking dead onto Cersei.
The manic high hadn't even faded from Joffrey's face yet. Seeing Lynn, he instinctively puffed out his chest.
But Lynn didn't even give the boy a passing glance.
Lynn just stared at Cersei, a dark, highly loaded smirk hooking the corner of his mouth.
"Cersei."
He spoke right in front of the King and his guards, addressing the woman who had just been completely stripped of everything, his tone dripping with absolute, unquestionable dominance.
"How could you just sneak out on me like that?"