Hearing this, the guarded look in Cersei's eyes suddenly softened.
A pregnant woman is naturally sensitive, and Cersei took Jon's words as a sign that the Seven hadn't abandoned her; instead, they were blessing her and the child in her womb.
As for Jon's suggestion to bring in Lannister troops, it was clearly to ensure a failsafe, a move that placed him directly in opposition to House Stark for her sake.
Touched by this, the Queen finally began to respond to her lover, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"Enough. No need to beat around the bush. I understand all of this. So, whose position do you want to take?"
As she spoke, a glint appeared in Cersei's beautiful eyes. It confirmed to Jon that this ravishing Queen, though her youth had been stolen by the years, must have looked exactly like Princess Myrcella in her prime.
Although time had taken her girlhood, it had gifted her with confidence and a voluptuous allure.
Her sharp question surprised Jon. He realized he needed to be more careful when dealing with Cersei in the future.
After all, once a woman's "void" is filled with something other than desire, her rationality tends to flood back in.
However, since their relationship was already so delightfully twisted, Jon naturally wouldn't act coy. That would only make her look down on him and doubt his competence.
After a light cough, Cersei's ally finally stated his terms.
"The City Watch. When the time comes, those men must answer only to you and me."
"The Gold Cloaks? Fine. It seems we're thinking alike. But I recall Janos Slynt isn't a pushover. You'll have to figure out how to handle him yourself, but I will provide the necessary support when the time comes."
As she said this, Jon and Cersei's gazes locked.
Clearly, they had reached a high level of understanding on this matter.
Looking at her beautiful face, Jon couldn't resist. He reached out, pinched her chin, and pressed his lips to hers, as if rewarding a good pupil.
Caught off guard by this sudden tenderness, Cersei seemed flustered, even frantically slapping at Jon's chest.
But Jon, fresh off his victory, ignored her protests.
At this moment, he felt like a god descended, capable of dominating everything.
So, even as Cersei's fists and palms drummed against his chest, the Baron didn't let go. Instead, he cupped her face more firmly, acting recklessly as if to vent his excess energy.
But the sharp shing of a sword being drawn snapped him back to reality. He realized something was wrong.
When he turned around, he found that the previously closed door had been pushed open at some point.
The sound of the sword came from the intruder—a young man whose face was flushed red, so angry he looked like he was about to pass out.
It was the Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon!
Seeing this, Jon, who should have been panicked, suddenly felt a surge of perverse amusement. Riding that feeling, he deliberately let his hand linger on Cersei.
Only when the Queen let out a startled gasp did she realize her lover's wandering hand. She jumped up, crying out in alarm.
"My son! Calm down! I... I'm doing this for you..."
Cersei's explanation only made things worse.
The next moment, the Crown Prince, sword already drawn, forgot his past fear of Jon. With a roar, he charged.
Looking at Joffrey's bloodshot eyes, Jon had no doubt that if he didn't handle this properly, one of them would die right here today.
Although Jon was sorely tempted to let that happen, reason prevailed. He sidestepped the enraged Prince's wild swing and, in the same motion, threw a punch.
Just one punch was all it took. The Crown Prince folded instantly, knocked out cold. The conflict vanished as quickly as it had begun.
After that, Jon released the flustered Cersei.
He promised her he would handle the situation properly and ensure Joffrey didn't go crazy again. Then, he hauled the unconscious Prince away.
Although Cersei was worried, she couldn't bring herself to do more.
The shame in her heart was too great to face her son right now.
Since she and Jon were in the same boat, she wasn't afraid he would harm the Prince permanently.
Perhaps it was better to let Jon handle this mess.
What the Queen didn't realize was that this permissiveness was a sign of growing dependency.
Jon took the unconscious Joffrey and a few red-cloaked guards Cersei had assigned him, disappearing around the corner and heading straight for a quiet, deserted cellar.
Once the cellar was cleared, only Jon and Joffrey remained.
Now, the Baron began to clean up his mess.
A bucket of cold water splashed down, and the unconscious Crown Prince jolted awake, springing up from the damp floor.
When he saw the figure in front of him, the confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by rekindled rage. He summoned his courage and charged again.
But seeing the fist growing larger in his vision, the "Half-Blood Prince" immediately recalled the fear of death he had felt once before.
Without his loyal Hound beside him, his newfound courage evaporated instantly. With a wail, the Prince curled up on the ground, bracing for impact.
But the expected pain didn't come. A pair of leather boots appeared in front of him, and he was hauled back to his feet.
When their eyes met, the Prince noticed a faint purple light in Jon's eyes, which seemed to fade into grey as the torch flickered.
Then, His Royal Highness watched in horror as the terrifying man gently patted the dust off Joffrey's clothes, as if nothing had happened.
Staring at this silent adversary, Joffrey felt like he was facing his father. The two shared a terrifying trait: their anger was invisible until it struck.
The torment ended when Jon finally spoke, though his words were absurd.
"Listen to me, Crown Prince..."
Jon deliberately dragged out the title, placing heavy emphasis on "Crown Prince."
Hearing the address, Joffrey slowly turned his face up, unsure of what Jon would say next.
But Jon, cracking his knuckles, dropped a confusing statement.
"You're too old. You're almost the same age as me. So, you don't need to worry about your identity."
Dropping this cryptic sentence, Jon began to step forward slowly, forcing the Prince to scramble backward in fear.