Alas, his viewing pleasure shall be interrupted.

Sansa and Arya's fingers were starting to play with their dampening cunts while their lips began to nervously kiss when the flap of the tent opened. Joffrey noted with displeasure it was Lancel, his... cousin of some sort. (The exact relationship didn't matter that much, because he wasn't a king. Not like Joffrey!) The boy's eyes went wide staring at the Stark sisters, whose innate Northern depravity was becoming more evident by the minute, as fingers were now beginning to plunge in and out of tight pussies, while tongues darted in and out of mouths. Joffrey was irritated--this show was for him, after all!--and clapped his hands together. "Lancel. Why are you here?"

Lancel managed a nervous cough. "Ahhh... yes, Your Grace. Your... The Queen Mother wishes to speak to you. She says it is important."

Joffrey frowned. Much as he hated to leave the Stark sisters while they were becoming so... enthusiastic, this was Mother, and she was important. And so, pulling up his trousers, he threw on a cape, and prepared to leave the room. "Very well. I will leave you two to your own devices for the moment. However, you best be prepared for me when I return."

Sansa gave a low groan as Arya nibbled at her throat that Joffrey took for a consent. Leaving his tent, he pulled Lancel after him, and made his way to his mother.