gemfyre | A drabble, a prompt, whatever. Might end up on the kinkmeme. (Reply)

"Your Grace," Margaery greeted him as she sidled beside him on the chaise, "I have been reading about the far east of Essos. There is a city there called Meereen where men... and even women... fight to the death in pits while people watch and place bets on the outcome! It sounds so exciting."
Joff was really starting to enjoy Margaery's company as he never imagined he would. She was full of good ideas and was never offensive towards him. She was all the queen he had ever hoped for, far better than that simpering Stark girl.
"Meereen you say? I have heard them speak of the place on the Small Council. Apparently that is where Daenerys Targaryen has decided to settle. They say she is building her armies up there, but other rumours make it seem that she has no intention of leaving to attack Westeros."
"All the more reason to go then Your Grace!" Marj exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. "You could personally deliver her the killing blow. Become part of the Targaryen history." Joffrey smiled, not a warm, welcoming smile but the smile of a cunning creature who realises their prey has a broken leg.
"My place is in Westeros my Lady. You seem to have forgotten that I am the king and I must oversee the realm."
"Exactly, you are the King. You have a Hand and Small Council to take care of things in your abscence. The King can do whatever he pleases."
Joffrey grinned.

Just adding to the Meerenese knot.