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CaveLeather
The heavy door was pushed open.
Lynn walked in.
He was dressed in pitch-black leather armor, Longclaw strapped to his hip, his face an absolute, terrifying blank slate.
Joffrey spun around like a rabid, provoked lion.
When he recognized the face in the doorway, the bloodshot fury in his eyes flickered with a split second of panic, instantly swallowed by an even more psychotic, unhinged hatred.
It's you!
It was you all along!
"What the fuck are you doing here?!"
Joffrey leveled a trembling finger right at Lynn's face, his voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical shriek.
"These are the King's private chambers! Who the hell gave you permission to enter?!"
"Get the fuck out!"
He roared, practically screaming just to mask the suffocating terror clawing at his insides.
Lynn completely ignored the rabid barking.
His gaze swept over the decimated, shattered room, finally landing on the woman writhing on the floor. Her gown was completely disheveled, her body violently twisting as she unconsciously moaned his name.
Lyanna.
"Master... I'm burning up..."
"Lord Lynn... please..."
Lyanna's glazed, heavily drugged eyes and filthy, explicit moans acted like poisoned daggers, brutally stabbing straight into Joffrey's heart over and over again.
"Are you listening to this?!" Joffrey felt like his brain was physically tearing apart.
He pointed at Lyanna on the floor and screamed hysterically at Lynn.
"She is begging for you! You miserable bastard!"
"She is my wife! The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! What the fuck did you do to her?!"
"You and this filthy whore! You've been playing me this entire time!"
Lynn finally shifted his gaze off Lyanna and locked eyes with Joffrey.
"I'm here to collect what belongs to me."
His voice was dead calm, like he was stating the most mundane fact in the world.
"What belongs to you?" Joffrey froze for a second before his brain caught up.
He meant Lyanna!
"She is my Queen!" Joffrey roared again.
"As of today, she's not."
Lynn slowly closed the distance, stepping toward him.
Joffrey instinctively stumbled a step backward.
He tried to draw the sword at his hip, but his hands were shaking so violently he couldn't even grip the hilt.
"Stop! I command you to stop right there!"
Joffrey shrieked, desperately trying to project a hollow authority.
"I am the King! Disrespecting me is high treason!"
Lynn stopped right in front of him.
He towered over Joffrey by a full head, radiating a crushing, suffocating physical dominance.
"The King?"
Lynn laughed.
It was a dark, highly loaded smirk dripping with absolute, unfiltered mockery.
"Joffrey, did you completely forget that I have a literal dragon? Do you honestly think I give a shit about treason?"
Joffrey's breathing violently hitched.
"And did you also forget that I know the little secret that would put your head on a spike?"
"I... I..."
Joffrey opened his mouth, but his vocal cords were completely paralyzed.
"I honestly thought you were just a braindead idiot."
"But I was wrong. You're actually a little smarter than I gave you credit for, Joffrey."
Lynn shook his head, looking down at the boy's face, which was currently warped by sheer, naked terror.
"Smart enough to be a bit of a headache."
"Originally, I was just going to let you play King for a while. Once I finished conquering the Seven Kingdoms, I was going to ship you off to Dragonstone to live out your days as a rich, irrelevant lord."
"Too bad you didn't want to play nice."
"Since you love playing games so much, I've decided to play a much more entertaining one with you."
A terrifying, demonic smile spread across Lynn's face, making Joffrey's scalp go completely numb.
"What... what are you going to do?" Joffrey asked, his voice violently trembling.
"Starting today, this kingdom is still yours."
Lynn's words completely threw Joffrey off.
What did that mean? Was he letting him off the hook?
"However... your body belongs to me."
Lynn's next sentence wiped Joffrey's brain completely blank.
His body... belonged to him?
What the hell did that mean?
A split second later, he found out.
He suddenly realized he had absolutely zero control over his own physical form.
An alien, overwhelmingly dark power surged into his system like millions of invisible, razor-sharp wires, instantaneously hijacking his entire nervous system and seizing total control of his limbs.
His hand moved.
He didn't want it to move.
The hand literally raised itself into the air!
And then, right before his own horrified eyes, it violently whipped across his own face!
SMACK!
A sharp, explosive slap echoed through the dead-silent bedchamber.
Joffrey was completely, utterly paralyzed in shock.
He could vividly feel the burning, stinging pain radiating across his cheek.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to chop his own rogue hand off with a meat cleaver.
But he couldn't do a single goddamn thing.
His jaw was locked tight, physically refusing to let out even a whimper.
His body stood completely rigid, trapped like a helpless wooden puppet violently jerked around by invisible strings.
But his mind was completely, terrifyingly lucid.
He felt absolutely every single second of it!
SMACK!
Another brutal, ringing slap.
This time, it was his other hand.
Joffrey watched, trapped inside his own skull, as he brutally backhanded himself across the mouth.
"See? This is fun, isn't it?"
Lynn's voice whispered directly into his ear like a literal demon.
"You love hitting people, don't you?"
"So, how does it feel when you're the one beating the shit out of yourself?"
Joffrey's eyes bulged out of his skull, the whites rapidly flooding with bloodshot red from the sheer, apocalyptic terror and ultimate humiliation.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for mercy.
But Lynn had stripped him of the right to even shed a tear.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
His hands went completely rogue, alternating left and right, delivering brutal, full-force slaps to his own face over and over again.
The sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh established a sick, rhythmic beat in the room.
Within seconds, Joffrey's face was beaten into a swollen, bruised pulp.
Dark blood started leaking from the corners of his mouth.
But his hands showed absolutely zero signs of stopping.
He felt like he was going completely, utterly insane!
What kind of sick, twisted black magic was this?!
He'd rather die! He would genuinely rather Lynn just run him through with a sword than endure this absolute psychological torture—having his soul imprisoned inside his own meat suit, forced to watch himself violently degrade and humiliate his own body!
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
Lynn asked casually, staring into Joffrey's rapidly unfocusing, despair-hollowed eyes.
"Relax. This is just the warm-up."
Humiliation!
An unprecedented, absolute, soul-crushing humiliation!
This was ten thousand times worse than just killing him!
I am Joffrey Baratheon! I am the King!
I am the one and only King of the Seven Kingdoms!
How the fuck am I standing here beating my own face in like a pathetic circus clown?!
Tears finally managed to break free, mixing with the dark blood and sliding down Joffrey's ruined cheeks.
They were tears of absolute, unfiltered despair.
Lynn watched his masterpiece unfold with highly amused satisfaction.
He shot a glance at Lyanna, who was still writhing and moaning on the floor, desperately begging his name over and over again.
The dark smirk on Lynn's face deepened.
"Did you know, Joffrey?"
Lynn's voice echoed directly inside Joffrey's mind, a slow, methodical psychological vivisection.
"I can control you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Without a single break."
"Eating, sleeping, even taking a piss... I will be inside your head."
"I'll be watching you. Driving you."
"And you? Even if I march your body to the latrines and force you to eat shit, you won't be able to resist a single muscle. You'll just have to kneel down and taste every single bite."
"Do you understand me?"
BOOM!
Joffrey felt his sanity completely and permanently detonate.
This animal!
He was a demon! An absolute, unadulterated demon from the deepest circle of hell!
"Don't look so completely devastated."
Lynn spoke as if he could hear the frantic, screaming monologue inside Joffrey's head.
"I'm not going to let you die."
"At least, not yet."
"Your blood is still highly useful to me."
"I need that 'noble, royal' bloodline of yours to incubate a few very interesting little pets."
"So, until I bleed you completely dry, you are incredibly safe."
"You just need to be a good little blood bag. Be a good little puppet. That's all."
A blood bag...
A puppet...
Joffrey felt his entire psyche completely and permanently shatter into dust.
He wasn't even human anymore.
He was literally just a walking incubator. A livestock tool meant to breed monsters!
"Ah... ah..."
Joffrey desperately tried to scream, to vent the apocalyptic agony, but all his paralyzed throat could produce were pathetic, garbled, guttural rasps.
And his body was still mechanically, brutally slapping his own face.
"Alright. Warm-up is over."
Lynn casually snapped his fingers.
Joffrey's suspended hand instantly froze dead in mid-air.
He felt the invisible chains snap. He finally had his body back.
But the sheer, bone-deep terror injected into his system left him completely devoid of strength.
Thud.
Joffrey's legs instantly gave out, and he collapsed into a pathetic heap on the floor.
He gasped greedily for air, his chest heaving violently like a fish thrown onto dry land.
Lynn stepped up and looked down at him from above, an apex predator staring at a broken worm.
"Now, my dear King."
"How about we play a real game?"
Lynn reached out and lightly patted Joffrey's swollen, bruised, bleeding cheek.
"Stand up."
Joffrey's body convulsed violently.
He didn't want to move.
He wanted to crawl as far away from this literal demon as humanly possible.
But, to his absolute horror, his body completely ignored his brain and mechanically hauled itself back up onto its feet.
"Excellent."
Lynn gave a highly satisfied nod.
He strolled over to Lyanna, leaned down, and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms.
Lyanna's skin was burning hot. She immediately nuzzled blindly into Lynn's chest like a desperate kitten, letting out filthy, highly satisfied whimpers.
"Lord Lynn... please, take me, please..."
"No, Master, please... harder..."
"Faster..."
"Don't hold back..."
Lynn carried the completely delirious, dripping-wet Queen right up to Joffrey's face.
He looked into Joffrey's bloodshot eyes, which were currently swimming in absolute terror and blinding hatred, and flashed him a brilliant, devastating smile.
"Your Grace, I'm going to take your Queen into the next room and give her some highly intensive 'medical treatment.'"
"You just stand right here. Take some time to really reflect on exactly what a proper 'King' should be doing."
With that, Lynn turned his back on him and carried Lyanna toward the heavy doors.
Right as he crossed the threshold, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Oh, right."
Lynn's voice echoed telepathically inside Joffrey's skull one last time.
"Clean up your face."
"First thing tomorrow morning, you have to stand in front of the court and officially declare war against Stannis and Renly."
"Don't disappoint me, my... King."
And with that, Lynn stepped into the hallway, vanishing from sight.
The bedchamber was completely empty, leaving Joffrey totally alone amidst the shattered ruins of his room.
He felt the heavy, invisible pressure lift. His body was officially his own again.
He slowly, numbly raised his trembling hand and gently touched his burning, swollen cheek.
The sharp, searing physical pain was the ultimate proof that none of this was a nightmare. It was all terrifyingly real.
Joffrey moved like a brain-dead zombie, slowly shuffling over to a polished bronze mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was a completely unrecognizable, bruised, bleeding mess.
Those pale blue eyes were entirely hollow. Numb. Stripped of every single ounce of arrogance and royal pride he had ever possessed.
He just stared at his ruined reflection.
And then.
SMACK!
His hand violently shot up completely on its own, delivering another brutal backhand to his own face.
It was Lynn. Reminding him that he was always there. Always watching.
"Haha... HAHAHAHAHA!"
Joffrey stared at the pathetic, beaten clown in the mirror and suddenly erupted into unhinged, hysterical, psychotic laughter.
The laughter was completely hollowed out by endless, absolute despair and madness.
He lost.
He lost absolutely everything.
Starting today, Joffrey Baratheon was no longer the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
He was nothing but a dog on Lynn's leash.
A pathetic, walking blood bag, cursed to stand in front of a mirror and beat his own face in.