His highly prized Queen was actually another man's planted spy.
The Iron Throne he desperately clung to was built on an absolute, filthy lie.
And he—the King of the Seven Kingdoms—had officially been reduced to a paralyzed piece of garbage who couldn't even control his own fucking limbs. A pathetic slave to be humiliated whenever his master felt like it!
Crushing humiliation. Apocalyptic fury. Absolute, suffocating resentment...
He wanted to die!
Right now, he just wanted to fucking die!
Joffrey frantically scrambled up from the floor, violently stumbling toward the wall where a heavy, jewel-encrusted decorative longsword was mounted.
He was going to rip the blade from its scabbard!
He was going to slice his own throat wide open!
He would rather die bleeding on the floor than live as Lynn's obedient dog!
His fingers locked tightly around the freezing steel hilt.
Just one violent yank...
But right at that exact second, his hand completely froze.
That alien, overwhelmingly dark power violently surged into his system again, instantaneously hijacking every single nerve and muscle fiber in his body.
"Looking for an easy way out?"
Lynn's dark, highly amused voice echoed directly inside his skull.
"Did I give you permission to die?"
Joffrey's entire body violently convulsed.
He suddenly realized the absolute, horrifying truth: he didn't even own the basic human right to kill himself.
His fingers mechanically peeled themselves off the hilt.
His body rigidly turned completely around.
His legs began to march completely on their own, carrying him step by deliberate step toward the concealed side door of his bedchamber.
No... no...
Joffrey shrieked hysterically inside his own trapped mind.
He had no idea where Lynn was marching his hijacked body, but he knew with absolute certainty that it was going to be a psychological torture infinitely worse than death!
Where?! Where the fuck are you taking me?!
"Shut your mouth."
Lynn's voice echoed with lethal calm.
"I'm taking you to a show."
"A private screening meticulously prepared just for you."
"If I remember correctly, the little puppy my wife Myrcella kept back in Casterly Rock... you were the one who butchered it, weren't you?"
"A sadistic, psychotic little animal like you deserves to enjoy every single second of this."
Joffrey's hijacked meat-suit marched completely against his will, stepping out of the royal chambers.
He was paraded down a dimly lit, heavy stone corridor, finally coming to a dead stop right in front of a tightly sealed oak door.
It was the chamber immediately adjacent to his own.
"Stand still."
The absolute command detonated in his brain.
Joffrey's body rigidly pivoted. His back slammed hard against the freezing stone wall, and then his knees buckled, forcing him to kneel on the hard floor of the corridor.
An invisible, crushing force grabbed the back of his skull and violently shoved his head sideways, pinning his ear dead-flat against the heavy stone wall.
"Aren't you even a little curious about the intensive 'medical treatment' I'm giving your precious Queen Lyanna?"
"You've been slacking on your duties as her nominal husband, after all."
No! I don't want to hear it! Make it stop!
Joffrey's mind thrashed and screamed in absolute panic, sensing exactly what was coming. But it was completely useless.
He was physically pinned against the wall like a crucified insect, completely incapable of twitching a single goddamn muscle.
Right at that exact second.
Noise bled through the heavy stone from the adjacent room.
A woman's voice.
Lyanna's voice!
"Mmm... ahh..."
A highly suppressed, pained, yet explicitly filthy moan penetrated the wall, echoing with crystal clarity straight into Joffrey's ear.
Joffrey's entire soul turned to ice.
What the fuck are you doing to her?! Lynn! You fucking animal!
He roared and shrieked inside his mental prison.
"Shh."
Lynn's psychic voice dripped with dark amusement.
"The show is just getting started."
"It's going to be a very long night. Pay close attention."
Through the wall, Lyanna's muffled whimpers rapidly spiked into unhinged, high-pitched moans.
"Ahh... Lord Lynn..."
"...so deep..."
"...I... I..."
"I'm going to..."
That name!
The single name he despised more than anything else in the entire universe was spilling from his own Queen's mouth, delivered in a filthy, completely debased tone he had only ever experienced in his drug-induced hallucinations!
BOOM!
Joffrey felt like his skull had just been caved in by ten thousand literal warhammers!
He desperately wanted to cover his ears!
He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut!
He wanted to violently rip himself away from that wall and run!
But he couldn't twitch a single goddamn fiber of his being!
All he could do was kneel there. Trapped.
Listening to his own Queen getting absolutely destroyed by another man right on the other side of the wall!
Physically forced to absorb every single filthy syllable of her degraded, slut-like begging and absolute submission!
"How's the audio quality, Your Grace?"
"Does your Queen sound good taking it?"
AAAAAAAAGH!
Joffrey let out a bloodcurdling, entirely silent shriek inside his own head.
He felt like his sanity was being violently, permanently shredded by the bottomless, apocalyptic humiliation!
This was ten thousand times more excruciating than being forced to beat his own face in!
I'm going to kill you! I swear to fucking God I'm going to kill you!
"Oh?"
Lynn's mental tone dripped with lethally cold amusement.
"Kill me with what, exactly? Your pathetic, imaginary royal dignity?"
"Or are you just going to mentally drop to your knees and beg me to let you go?"
No... please... make it stop...
Joffrey's absolute last, fragile psychological defense completely and utterly shattered.
He officially broke. He started begging for mercy.
Whimpering inside his own head like the most pathetic, beaten mutt.
"Make it stop?"
Lynn laughed a dark, cruel laugh.
"Why the hell would I do that?"
"A proper puppet King doesn't need to think."
"You've got way too much toxic garbage cluttering up your brain right now. The rage, the jealousy, the petty little revenge fantasies... it's all just dead weight."
"I'm doing you a favor by scrubbing it out."
"The only way you'll ever be the perfect, flawless tool I need is if we permanently overwrite everything in your skull until absolutely nothing remains but pure fear and total obedience."
"So, keep listening."
"Let every single filthy moan carve itself directly into your bones and brand your soul."
"Let it become your new oxygen, your new heartbeat."
"I want these exact sounds violently echoing in your ears every single time the thought of 'rebellion' even crosses your mind."
Through the wall, the heavy, rhythmic thudding rapidly escalated. Lyanna's explicit screaming hit a fever pitch.
"Lord Lynn! Oh gods, I love you!"
"Fill me... give me absolutely all of it..."
"I'm your whore! I belong completely to you!"
The unhinged, orgasmic shrieks practically shattered the stone ceiling of the Red Keep.
And then, finally, dead silence fell over the corridor.
Joffrey was still locked in his forced, kneeling posture.
His physical body was violently, uncontrollably shuddering.
His eyes were wide open, the whites completely ruptured with dark red blood vessels, yet his tear ducts were completely dried out.
His jaw hung slack, thick drool steadily dripping down his chin, completely unnoticed by his shattered brain.
The only thing left in his reality was the infinite, looping echo of Lyanna's slutty, begging screams.
An impossible amount of time passed.
Finally, Lynn's psychic voice returned.
"Alright. That concludes today's medical treatment. I'm fucking exhausted."
"How are you feeling, my King?"
"A little... refreshed?"
Joffrey offered zero internal response.
He was completely, permanently broken. A hollowed-out wooden puppet whose soul had violently evacuated its physical vessel.
"Looks like the treatment was highly effective."
Lynn muttered psychically.
"Go back to your room and get some sleep."
The invisible strings yanked Joffrey's hijacked body upright.
He pivoted rigidly and began the slow, mechanical march back to his own bedchamber.
Every step felt like he was treading through thick mud.
He walked back into the completely decimated ruins of his room.
The strings pulled him forward until he was standing dead center in front of the polished bronze mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was an utterly lobotomized, dead, numb shell of a human being.
His face was still heavily swollen and violently bruised from his own forced assault.
Those pale blue eyes were entirely vacant, completely stripped of life.
"Take a long, hard look at yourself."
Lynn's voice echoed with lethal finality in his mind.
"Burn this exact pathetic image into your brain."
"Because from this night forward, every single time you look at a mirror, I am going to make you perfectly replay every single filthy sound you just heard."
"I'm releasing the lock. You have your body back."
"Go take a hot bath and put on some clean clothes."
"After all, the grand, 'wise and mighty' King of Westeros has to preside over the Small Council meeting first thing in the morning."