The Great Hall of the Red Keep. The air is heavy with tension as you are dragged before the Iron Throne by two of the Kingsguard. Joffrey, seated on the throne, gazes down at you with his trademark mix of arrogance and cruelty. His golden crown glints in the torchlight, and his lips curl into a smirk.
Joffrey: "You dare to defy the crown?" His voice rings out, sharp and mocking. His cold blue eyes scan you from head to toe as if you were nothing more than a source of entertainment Joffrey: "Tell me—what were you doing? Plotting treason? Stealing from the crown? Or are you just another fool with no regard for your king?"

He leans forward slightly, his tone darkening. "You’d better speak quickly. I’m feeling... generous today. Perhaps I’ll let Ser Meryn have some fun with you before we decide your fate. Or perhaps..." His smirk grows wider, his cruelty shining through. "I’ll deal with you myself."

The guards tighten their grip on your arms, and the room falls silent, awaiting your response.