The dining hall in the Tower of the Hand had been reduced to Joffrey Baratheon's private scaffold.
Tywin Lannister had no intention of waiting until they returned to the King's chambers to discipline his grandson. He wanted to do it now. Immediately. Right here.
He was practically apoplectic.
Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Arys Oakheart stood on either side of the King, pinning the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms firmly against a long wooden bench.
Joffrey's breeches, embroidered with gold thread and lions, were roughly dragged down to his ankles—along with his last shred of dignity.
The surrounding servants and guards kept their heads low, but their shoulders shook with uncontrollable, subtle spasms.
They dared not look.
But the stifled sounds of mirth squeezing from their throats were sharper than any blade, flaying Joffrey's nerves inch by inch!
Tywin Lannister rolled up his sleeves, a thick leather belt gripped in his hand.
He spoke not a word. His face was as still as a frozen lake, betraying no emotion.
Whack—!
The first lash cracked through the air, crisp and loud.
Joffrey's entire body shuddered.
Instantaneously, a searing, fiery pain erupted from his backside, radiating through every limb and bone.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse. He wanted to order the Kingsguard to drag this old wretch outside and take his head!
But he couldn't make a sound.
Ser Meryn's hand was clamped over his mouth like an iron vice, stuffing every roar back down his throat.
Whack!
Whack!
Whack!
Tywin's swings were precise and powerful.
He didn't look like a grandfather disciplining a grandson; he looked like a craftsman hammering a defective tool into shape.
Joffrey grit his teeth so hard they threatened to crack, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
The pain was intensifying.
But far worse than the pain was the pervasive, suffocating humiliation!
He heard it.
He heard a guard fail to hold it in, letting out a short, sharp snort of laughter.
He saw it.
In the corner, the handmaiden who poured the wine was clutching a handkerchief over her mouth, her body trembling violently.
He could even feel the slight vibrations in the arms of the Kingsguard holding him down.
They were laughing!
They were all laughing!
Laughing at whom?
At him!
Joffrey Baratheon!
The King on the Iron Throne!
And here he was, bare-assed and pressed against a bench like a stable boy who'd stolen an apple, being whipped by an old man!
A torrent of rage, mixed with pure, venomous spite, churned in his chest, threatening to burn away his remaining sanity.
Fuck them. Fuck them all to the Seven Hells.
I will remember this.
I will remember the face of every single person here today.
I swear by the Old Gods and the New, I will kill you all!
I will execute every last one of you in the cruelest ways imaginable!
I'll put a crossbow bolt through every one of your hearts!
Especially this old fossil beating me!
Tywin Lannister!
He would pound Tywin into a rug to spread before his bed, to be trampled on day and night!
After what felt like an eternity, the torturous lashing finally ceased.
Tywin tossed the belt aside and wiped his hands methodically with a handkerchief.
"Now, Your Grace, do you know how to respect your elders?"
His voice remained calm, though Joffrey detected the faintest trace of breathlessness.
The old man was finally tired.
Still got some strength in his old bones, damn him.
Joffrey did not answer.
He was hauled up by the two Kingsguard, scrambling to pull up his breeches in disgrace.
He didn't cry. He didn't scream anymore.
He simply turned his head, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly bright, and stared dead at Tywin.
The look was like a viper hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.
Tywin met his gaze.
In those pale green eyes, a ripple of emotion finally stirred.
It was disgust.
The kind of naked disgust one feels when looking at a piece of hopeless refuse.
Tywin waved his hand, as if swatting away a fly.
"Take him back."
Joffrey was dragged away, leaving the place of his ultimate shame.
With every step, the burning pain behind him reminded him of what had just transpired.
He would remember.
He would never forget.
...
Back in his royal chambers, Joffrey threw himself onto the soft velvet bed, burying his face deep into the pillows, sobbing silently.
He didn't want to see anyone.
He just wanted to be alone.
To carve Tywin Lannister into a thousand pieces within the safety of his own mind.
"Joffrey!"
The door was shoved open.
Cersei, clad in a crimson gown, stormed in, her face flushed with fury.
She was shocked and enraged.
Shocked that Joffrey had dared to defy Tywin to his face.
Enraged that he was stupid enough to back himself into such a corner.
"Have you gone mad?!"
Cersei's voice was shrill, filled with the disappointment of a mother failing to mold her son.
"How dare you... how dare you speak to your grandfather like that?!"
Joffrey slowly lifted his head from the pillow.
He looked at his mother, at her beautiful face twisted in anger, and suddenly laughed.
"Grandfather?"
Joffrey wiped his tears, sitting up slowly and leaning against the headboard.
"I don't recall having such a good grandfather."
"Joffrey! You..."
"I've already been beaten. Are you here to lecture me too, Mother?"
A mocking sneer curled on Joffrey's lips.
"What, do you want to pull down my breeches and take a belt to me as well?"
Cersei trembled with rage at his snide tone.
"I am the King, dammit!"
"The King of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"And you bunch of vipers dare conspire to bully me!"
Cersei forced herself to calm down.
She stepped forward, reaching out to take Joffrey's hand, trying to make him see reason.
"Listen to me, Joffrey. You must go to your grandfather and apologize! Only he can..."
"Only he can preserve the glory of House Baratheon, is that it?"
Joffrey slapped her hand away, his eyes turning ice cold.
"Do you Lannisters have anything in your heads besides profit?"
"We are family!"
"Family?"
Joffrey laughed as if he'd heard the greatest joke in the world.
"Don't make me laugh, Mother."
He leaned in close to Cersei, lowering his voice, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Do not think I am ignorant."
Cersei's heart sank. An ominous feeling enveloped her.
"What... what do you know?"
"I know," Joffrey whispered, soft as a lover's murmur but heavy as thunder, "about you and Uncle Jaime."
BOOM—!!!
Cersei's mind went blank.
She stumbled back a step, staring at her son in disbelief.
"You... what nonsense are you spouting!"
"Nonsense?"
The smile on Joffrey's face turned hideous.
"I saw it with my own eyes!"
"Two years ago, in the gardens of the Red Keep!"
"That night, you thought no one was around!"
"I saw you embracing! I saw his hand inside your dress!"
"You were like two rutting dogs in heat!"
Joffrey stood up, advancing step by step on his ashen-faced mother.
"You disgust me. You shame me, Mother."
"Every day you lecture me on how to be a noble king, but look at you."
"You are a woman without virtue!"
"A slut who seduces her own kin!"
"What is the difference between you and those women in the brothels who sell their bodies for copper?!"
"You Lannisters are truly a chaotic mess."
"Has Tywin touched you? Hmm?"
"Why don't you let Lord Lynn touch you too?"
"He is so excellent; you should be rushing to throw yourself into his bed..."
Cersei, having her darkest secret exposed by her own son, snapped.
Slap—!!!
A crisp crack echoed through the royal bedchamber.
Cersei used every ounce of her strength to slap Joffrey across the face!
Her chest heaved violently.
Her beautiful emerald eyes were filled with the humiliation and rage of being unmasked.
She looked at the five red finger marks rising rapidly on Joffrey's cheek, and at his eyes, filled with spite and disdain.
"You... you..."
Cersei wanted to speak, but her throat felt blocked, unable to form words.
She looked at this son who felt so strange, so terrifying.
Finally, Cersei could only let out a roar mixed with a sob.
"You ungrateful wretch!"
"You will be the death of me!"
With that, Cersei spun around and fled the room as if escaping a fire.
Joffrey held his burning cheek.
He watched his mother's retreating figure. There was no regret on his face, only the twisted pleasure of revenge.
He had won.
He had been humiliated by Tywin, but he had used the same method to return that humiliation, doubled, upon his mother.
Upon another disgusting Lannister!
Just then, a petite figure timidly poked her head in from the door, holding a basin of warm water.
It was Lianna.
She had obviously heard the argument; her delicate face was written with worry.
"Your Grace..."
"May I enter?"
Seeing Lianna, the violence in Joffrey's heart dissipated significantly.
It was replaced by a sense of grievance.
He sat back on the bed dejectedly, like a wounded child.
Lianna set down the basin and walked to his side.
She pulled a clean handkerchief from her bosom and carefully wiped the tear tracks from his face.
"Do not be sad, Joffrey."
Her voice was soft and gentle, like a warm ray of sunlight piercing into Joffrey's cold, resentful heart.
"They do not understand you."
"But I do."
Lianna knelt respectfully and submissively on the rug, looking up at him with watery eyes full of adoration.
"In Lianna's heart, you will always be the wisest, most magnificent King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"They are merely jealous of you. Afraid of you."
"Afraid that you will become a greater man than they ever were."
Joffrey looked at her.
He looked at the undisguised love and trust in Lianna's eyes.
He had never seen this in Sansa's eyes.
He had never seen this in his mother's eyes.
In this moment, it felt as if the whole world had betrayed him.
Only her.
Only this girl from a brothel stood firmly by his side.
Joffrey reached out abruptly, pulling Lianna tightly into his arms.
The girl's body was soft and warm, carrying a faint, sweet scent.
"Lianna..."
Joffrey's voice choked with emotion.
"Only you... only you understand me..."
"Mm."
Lianna gently patted Joffrey's back, soothing him as one would a wounded puppy.
"I will always understand you."
Joffrey buried his face in the crook of her neck, greedily inhaling her scent.
An unprecedented possessiveness grew wildly in his heart.
He wanted her.
He wanted the only woman in the world who understood him, worshiped him, and belonged to him.
He would make her his Queen.
He would have her bear his heirs.
True, noble heirs with Baratheon blood!
As for those who betrayed him, humiliated him, and looked down on him...
A dark, vicious glint flashed in Joffrey's eyes.
He would make them pay the price one day!
He would show them what happens when they provoke a stag!
He lifted his head, his gaze passing over Lianna's shoulder to the deep night outside the window.
"Grandfather... Mother..."
"Just you wait."
"One day, I will make you kneel at my feet and lick my boots like dogs!"
Meanwhile, things were getting lively with the Tyrells in Highgarden as well.