Daughter to a Tyrant

Chapter 8

"Tell me my son. How did the adoption go? Cersei asked Joffrey. The blond teen rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine out of his golden chalice.

"Didn't I already tell you about that yesterday?" Cersei tilted her head, eyebrows scrunched together and a frown forming on her regal face. "You only gave me brief details Joffrey. If I am being completely honest, you spoke very little of the situation." Joffrey huffed, "You know how I hate repeating myself."

Cersei then turned from her son to her plate. Which consisted of well-done lamb and freshly chopped greens with warm buttered wheat bread. A lunch fit for the typical nobles of high society. "Well, if you would've told me what I needed to know then. . ."

She then lifted her fork and knife with regally grace, placing it directly over the piece of meat. Cutting it with the elegance she was taught. Pushing her fork through the slice she had just cut she lift the reddish-brown delight to her pale red rose color lips and ate it. Swallowing the retired queen continued, "I wouldn't be asking you so much. It is the main reason why I brought you out here."

Joffrey huffed annoyance clear on his pale face. He already figured that the adoption was the real reason why she wanted to have lunch with him outside in the gardens. It was a tactic to get information out of him and not to just have a nice peaceful lunch.

The queen regent was as cunning as a snake. Cersei Lannister always used manipulation to get what she wanted in her life. And Joffrey knew this, but sadly he always fell for her tricks. . . well almost always.

Cersei knew her son like the back of her hand, but of course she is his mother. So, because of this she also knew her son wouldn't get angry and have usual man-child tantrums. If he was seated in a clam and warm setting.

Currently, they were in the gardens. Surrounded by a sea of bright and vibrant flowers. From the pretty purple of the Buddleia flower to the pastel pink Chrysanthemums. The sunshine yellows of the cheerful Marigolds glinted in the beautiful south autumn sun. The forever alluring snow-white petals of the Gardenias blinded any eyes that gazed upon its wintery beauty. Every flower in the entire Westeros was there resting and standing proud in the palace's large, magnificent garden.

The young king sat staring at the gorgeous and wide space under a large stone gazebo that he was currently sharing with his mother.

The gazebo itself was just as beautiful and exquisite. The sand-colored marble stone structure sat perfectly among its colorful neighbors. It's round stone ceiling carved to a similar design to the great buildings and structures of Dorne. The stone columns were made to also represent that lavish city of art and culture. To top off the beauty of this grand build, vines of royal sapphire blue and pearly white Morning Glories wrapped themselves around the stony pilers. The gazebo provided the two royals both comfort and protection with the south's climate.

Joffrey enjoyed the shade and the silence as he sat staring at the lovely plants as they swayed and danced in the cool breeze.

While he was scanning the open colorful scenery with his icy blue eyes. Joffrey's gaze landed on the gardens rose bushes.

The admirable and breathtakingly beautiful rose bushes. Which took up a quarter of the garden itself. Passionate and confident reds and purple vibrated decorated one side. While warm, bright and friendly pinks, yellows and oranges lined another section. And lastly, in the center rested pure and innocent white roses. Each rose released a welcoming scent to whomever walked by them. The intoxicating aroma somehow had a way of wrapping anyone in a warm and loving embrace. Like a mother comforting her child after a horrendous nightmare. A feeling of secureness and peace.

While he was caught in the flower's enchanting spell. An image struck Joffrey's mind similar to lighting streaking across a dark and stormy night sky.

A little blond girl around six or seven flooded his vision. She had dirty blond hair that looked matted and untamed. Her dull but shining green eyes held both innocence and sadness. Her little button nose and her rosy pink like lips set perfectly on her little face. Her fair skin is pale and is covered in dirt and grime. The dress she wore was also covered in dirt and was almost in tatters. The girl herself was skinny as a twig, nothing but skin and bones. And in her tiny hands held a busted-up doll with a few seams hanging on to it for dear life almost.