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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 | Unveiled

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 | Unveiled

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{ Joffrey }


✧✦✧


𝕿he silence of the Throne room did little to quiet the rage of emotions still whirring around Joffrey's mind. Court had ended minutes earlier, yet he was still waiting on his grandfather, so that the pair could speak about the unforeseen marriage between Tyrion and Sansa.

Another few minutes passed, before the main doors creaked open, and Tywin Lannister appeared, his eyes narrowed. Joffrey tilted his head as the man bowed, wondering if his grandfather had any clue about Jaime and Cersei. He supposed the man didn't, otherwise there would have been repercussions, he was sure of it.

"Your Grace," Joffrey looked back at the older man, who was standing in front of him now. "You wished to speak with me."

"When was the marriage of Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister going to be run by me?" Joffrey knew he had not seen the papers on his desk, nor had they been placed into his hand. In fact, he had not heard an inkling about the arrangement until yesterday. 

"It was not," Joffrey's eyes narrowed, his temper starting to burn brighter. "If you had married Margaery, then I wouldn't have had to resort to this. But, due to your resistance, and stubborn will to stay with the Stark girl, I had to compromise."

"What did you just say to me?" Joffrey raised an eyebrow, standing up to tower over the man below him.

"I warned you, my boy," Tywin's glare was cold and sharp, as he drew himself to his full height. "Love clouds your judgement. You prioritized your own happiness over that of the country and now others have to pay for your mistakes."

Clenching his fist, Joffrey ground his teeth together as Tywin stepped closer to him, a condescending smile on his face.

"But, it's all up to you," The young king bristled once more, as Tywin placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pressing onto the scar that still was not fully healed. Joffrey fought a wince, as a shot of pain ran down his arm. "Should you keep up this ridiculous idea of marrying Lyra Stark, then Sansa shall marry Tyrion and your mother marries Loras. However, if you choose to marry Margaery, and Lyra marries Tyrion, then Sansa will be free to do as she pleases."

Joffrey tilted his head, glaring up at the man, tightening his grip on the sword by his side. He was mere moments away from drawing it, but the rational part of his mind reasoned that it would not be a good idea.

"You are not able to force me to marry someone else," He hissed. "I am still the king."

"Then Sansa and your mother shall bare the consequences of your actions," Yanking his shoulder from the older man's grip, Joffrey stormed from the room, anger radiating off of him in waves.

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