The Journal of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his Name

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King's Landing, Red Keep

“And we are now entering the royal wing of the Red Keep, traditionally the left side contained the quarters of the Queen or Queens and younger children, while the right side was reserved for the King, his closest staff as well as the chambers of the crown prince once he had reached a suitable age. This custom predates the start of the Baratheon rule in 283 and is most likely a direct result of the Targaryen dynasty’s custom to marry their siblings…”

Hedda only listened with one ear as she passed another group of tourists in the Red Keep. Since the castle had been opened for visitors 15 years’ prior the number of visitors had grown each year. Many were interested how their monarchy had started out and the interest had only increased since they had the specialized exhibitions that concentrated on one aspect of royal living for a year before another topic was chosen. But right now nothing of that mattered, the conservators that had been working on the King’s Chambers for weeks now had discovered a hidden passage with another room and inside that room they had found several documents and books. From the exited call, she had received today at five AM, at least one of the books was a personal journal of a Baratheon King, they hadn’t been able to date it yet but according to her colleague Dr. Jeyne Marsha the font predated anything she specialized in and so was at least 600 to 700 years old. The book they concentrated on right now was in a very fragile state and as one of the only experts in reading long since outdated fonts Hedda would be one of the first to see and hopefully translate it.

“Dr. Barath?” a voice ripped her out of her thoughts.

Hedda looked up and smiled at the young man that was nervously wringing his hands.

“You are Edwin, right? One of Dr. Marsha’s interns.”

“Yes, Dr. Barath. If you would come with me? They already scanned the first fifteen pages for you to translate.”

“Is it possible to viewthe book itself?”

“Yes, but nobody is allowed to touch it other than the scanning experts. Dr. Marsha said that if they hadn’t moved it into the climate controlled lab instantly after they found it, it would have probably fallen apart within hours of the discovery.”

Hedda felt herself pale, that would have been devastating, “Right, so the scans?”

“Are here, Hedda”, Jeyne Marsha called form somewhere in the back of the room they had just entered.

“Hello, Jeyne!” Hedda said with a smile, “So did you find something else while I flew in?”

“No, just that the signature on the bottom of the first page really does include the name Baratheon and the usual phrase of King of the Andals, etc., we couldn’t date it yet because there are no numbers on the paper.”

Hedda took the first page into her hand and hummed before she smirked, “There are, actually. Until 523 they used to write out the numbers in text instead of just using the numerical system.”

“Huh… so there is a date? That will make things easier. And here I thought we would have to go through the whole royal registry to find the owner of the book. Post-Tully-Frey civil war is so much easier to identify.”

Hedda snorted, “If you say so. I wouldn’t know what to do with all those Walders and Edwiles around 1200, it is a miracle that you can even distinguish between them.”

Jeyne just smirked and Hedda finally turned her complete attention to the pages in front of her, they were a bit grainy but that was to be expected, hopefully one of the IT crowd could improve the pages in the next few days, such scans were always killer on her eyes.

The first pagewas surprisingly unadorned, not a single illumination present, which supportedJeyne’s theory that this was a personal journal instead for official memoirs that were intendedfor the royal library.Her eyes wandered further down to the signature and she paused at the elegant first word… that couldn’t be. Her eyes wandered back up at the top of the page where the date was written in clear ornate letters that were so typical for the time around 300.

“I need pen and paper.” Hedda said impatiently.

She had hardly finished the sentence when Edwin already pressed said utensils into her free hand, the boy was proving to be quite useful.

Absentmindedly she sat down on the next free chair and let her mind translatethe words in front of her until on the college block to her right stood, “364 AC, King’s Landing, the King’s Chambers”.

“Jeyne… if that is what I think it is, the journal could be the find of the century.” Hedda said slowly while her eyes traveled down to the signature on the bottom.

“Explain.”

“364. That’s the date the third Baratheon King came into power. Orys Baratheon, first of his name.”

“What does the signature say?” Jeyne asked rushed.

Hedda’s eyes traveled downwards again, really concentrating this time and yes, the word hadn’t changed with reverence she read the whole signature in her mind. It said King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

“This is the Journal of King Joffrey.” She finally whispered into the room, “We found the journal of the King that reigned during the Return of the Long Night and cemented the Baratheon rule for the next 1500 years.”

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364 AC, King’s Landing, the King’s Chambers

Today with a heavy heart I bid farewell to the woman that has been my companion, my advisor and one of my constants in life since our wedding day 64 years ago, she now rests in the ground and no longer will I find comfort in her. Her presence and counsel always a steady one, through good times and tragic ones. She had just become my wife when the kingdom was on the verge of being lost forever in snow and ice and her example kept the Southern parts of the Kingdom intact while all the able warriors were in the Northfighting forhumanity's survival, she stood by my side when the last remains of the Targaryen line threatened to reclaim their former kingdom. She was also present when peace reigned in our lands, when our children learned to walk and run in the halls of the Red Keep, found spouses of their own. She pacedbeside me, anxious as our second oldest daughter nearly was taken from us in childbed. Comforted me when my brother fell at the hand of rebels. It was her that counseled me when hard decisions loomed and it was her soothing hand that made the weight of sovereignty bearable. Her’s and Jon’s, oh how a grieve for them. For they both have been taken from me within the same year and now I stand alone at the head of our kingdom and feel bereft of all my joy and happiness. Only my sense of duty and sheer stubbornness lets me continue day by day, I see the worry of my children in their eyes and actions. They treat me like I will vanish on them any moment now. And maybe that is the fate that awaits me in the weeks and months to come, to slowly loose the last strength of my limbs until the Stranger will finally take me away from this place. It is a thought that balms my heart, because that would mean to be once more united with Jon and Margaery, but I cannot give in, not yet when I still have one last task to fulfill.

With growing unease, I note that the so venerated Maesters at Oldtown have started to adjust the events of my reign in a nearly utopian narration. Gone are the mistakes I made in my reign, gone are the hunger and thirst, the blood and the sickness, only the glory and honorable deaths are left. Nothing of the cravenness in my own ranks, instead the only ones that were craven were my enemies. Men and women that stood opposite me are demonized into fantasy. I cannot abide this farce, I simply cannot. So in these last days before the Stranger takes me too I will attempt to give an account of my life, the events that shaped me and my rule. This account will also contain the private details, the hidden ones, thoughts, reasons and reactions, things that would never find their way into the King’s official vita. Things that would raise the hairs of any septon or septa alive. It amuses me that there is talk of awarding me sainthood for the deeds throughout my life. If the High Septon knew what things were happening behind doors since the days of my youth, he would rescind the honor posthaste. Alas he will never know, at least not in my life or even hundred years from now. I intend this account to be hidden away in one of the secret chambers of the keep. Maybe it is a fanciful idea but I imagine some young lad or lass five hundred or more years from now stumbling across the hidden passage and finding my memoires. And if after he or she read it only one more person knows what really happened I will be satisfied.

King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep Castle

Hedda’s hand shook a bit while she read once again over the first page that she had translated. If the journal really contained what King Joffrey promised on the first page, it would clear up so many questions they had for years and probably bring up at least four times as many new ones. Still, even if the Journal proved to be varnished by King Joffrey’s opinions it would still be an invaluable treasure for medieval historians around the world. She knew of at least seventeen colleagues at Essosi universities that would literally kill to get a look at the journal. Not to mention her own curiosity and personal interest, after all she was of one of the many Baratheon cadet branches. Her many times grandfather had been the bastard son of King Hendrik Baratheon, fifth of his name, that had lived about 200 years ago and in recognition of her ancestor’s contributions to the just established society of science he had been acknowledged and given the name Barath instead of the usual Waters.

“Dr. Barath?”

Hedda looked up and gladly took the offered cup of coffee from Edwin.

“Thank you.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, not right now but thank you.”

“Okay, we are ordering pentoshi food for dinner, any preferences?”

“Anything deep-fried and with that hot chili sauce they like to use, I’m in need of junk food. Oh and some pita bread and garlic butter, please.”

“Anything for dessert?”

“Something sweet and tart or chocolaty, I don’t care what.” Hedda said with a grin that Edwin reciprocated.

“Alright Doc. Food will be here in about two hours. Happy translating.”

Hedda snorted and turned her attention back to the scans in front of her.

During the early years of my childhood I was sheltered from all kinds of reality by my mother, Queen Cersei Lannister Baratheon. There are not a lot of positive things that can be said of the late Queen’s virtues, but one thing has to be made abundantly clear, she loved her children fiercely. Her children, which included my sister Myrcella, our brother Tommen and me, Joffrey Baratheon, her oldest son and the crown prince of Westeros.

I grew up in chambers that were decorated lavishly with red and gold, lions everywhere and with the Lannister words whispered to me every night. My Queen mother considered herself still a Lannister and would so for the rest of her life. She and my King father never saw eye to eye and if one took the behavior of King Robert into account, it is no wonder that she never took to the Baratheon name.

For the first six years of my life my whole world consisted of my mother, her ladies-in-waiting, servants and my newborn siblings. I cannot remember seeing or interacting with my father before my sixth name day. According to my uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, he was uninterested in his children as a whole until my, then still blond, hair began to darken.
For the sake of completeness I will give an account of my looks, from around my fourth name day until my sixteenth the blonde Lannister locks I wore since my birth turned into a wild dark colored mane. Though unlike my Baratheon father and uncles, my hair kept it’s Lannister curl and a certain golden gleam even when it fell to my lower back in later years. My eyes as well were a mixed Lannister- Baratheon inheritance, I had inherited mostly my mother’s clear green Lannister orbs but with one difference, there was the slightest hint of blue on the edges. Years later my sister would tell me that depending on my mood my eye color would change from green with a hint of blue to a striking turquoise color when I was laughing or especially happy. It may seem trivial information at best but it solved a lot of mysteries about certain gifts I received. My younger siblings and later their children tended to give me turquoise items, and I like to think that this was because when they saw me I was mostly in good spirits. Family was always important to me.

One of my clearest memories of my early childhood was the birth of my sister Myrcella and later on the day Tommen was born. I was allowed to hold both of my younger siblings only hours after they came from my mother. In the moment I first caught sight of them, I knew that I would do anything to prove myself worthy as their older brother, as the eldest it was my duty and right to protect them, a feeling that only returned to me when I was a man grown and held my own children for the first time.

289 AC, King’s Landing, the Queen’s Chambers

The first time Joffrey became consciously aware of himself was two months before his fourth name day. It was late December and he was playing with his wooden knights in his mother’s solar when the first round of memories hit him. He stared confused at the toys in his hands while his mind was whirling at a frightening speed with unfamiliar pictures. Maybe it was a blessing that a body and mind as young as Joffrey’s had no idea what was happening, so he just watched confused as in front of his inner eye information and pictures were settled into various corners of said developing mind, instead of panicking and fighting against it.

“Are you alright, my little love?” a gentle voice asked from beside him.

Joffrey looked up and into the face of a beautiful blonde and very pregnant woman. Reflexively he smiled when he recognized her.

“Mama.” He mumbled and clumsily stood up to hug her.

His mother laughed and gathered him into her arms, gently rocking him back and forth, even with her stomach somewhat in the way. The rhythmic motion set him at ease and while his mind still ran through hundreds of pictures in a second Joffrey fell asleep in his mother’s arms.

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Whatever process had started that day was finished during the night because when he woke up next Joffrey suddenly had memories of a whole different life in his head. Memories but more importantly also the understanding to grasp what they meant. To Joffrey’s great fortune not one of the memories was connected to an emotion and so it was more like watching a movie and being able to pause at a certain passage instead of having to deal with someone else’s life in themselves. The knowledge also didn’t fade like other memories usually did, so there was another advantage the young crown prince learned to appreciate rather quickly.

The memories that he now possessed had once been the ones of Charles Buckwell, an English IT specialist with an obsession for fanfiction and various entertainment genres. The man used all of his free time to either watch series, read, write or play videogames. He had no partner, didn’t see the need for one, though he had several girlfriends in the past and generally enjoyed touch. Instead he dreamed of immersing himself in the fantasy worlds that occupied most of his waking hours. His latest obsession before the Stranger took him, were the ASOIAF books and the TV series Game of Thrones. His death was just as unspectacular as the rest of his life, he died in a car accident only months before his 33^rd name day.

It was a strange experience for Joffrey, one moment he was barely aware of himself and in the next he had such an acute sense of self that it made him self-conscious of everything he did. So he spent the first day cuddled up to his mother and listened as one of her ladies-in-waiting recited tales of old for him. His mother grew concerned the longer he stayed subdued and finally called the Grand Maester. Pycelle, the name popped into his head unbidden the moment the man came through the door, pronounced him under the weather and prescribed some bedrest and a beverage that Joffrey identified tentatively as Thyme tea with honey. The bedrest ensured that he could let his thoughts wander through all the knowledge he now possessed. Including the one about ASOIAF and Game of Thrones. Joffrey cringed at the end of his own person, he would be poisoned at his own wedding if he didn’t change things. Being the product of incest also didn’t sit well with him. Especially because he knew that Jaime Lannister was just as indifferent to his children as Robert Baratheon.

It was probably a good thing that Joffrey’s own personality hadn’t established itself yet in the body when he had received this boon of the gods, fighting oneself wasn’t what he thought would be pleasant or healthy. No, instead there was now only Joffrey, with a pool of information about a whole other world, two interpretations of his own world’s future, the thought processes of an adult and all the emotions of a toddler child who wanted hugs and kisses and the attention of his doting mother.

The Queen. His loving mother.

Cersei Lannister may be one of the reasons why one day there would be war in Westeros but right now she was his whole world. Kind and patient and always fulfilling any wish a little boy of nearly four could have. Joffrey was spoilt, there was no denying it, both with affection and wordily goods, nothing was too good for him. For now that was acceptable, he was still only a toddler and some allowances could be made but he knew that as soon as he grew out of the toddler stage he would have to start working on the more physical aspects of his medieval education, like learning how to wield a sword. At least he was young enough that nobody would be curious why he couldn’t remember how to use a sword or had a complete personality shift. The Joffrey of the books and TV series never learned how to properly fight and that was one difference the current Joffrey already was set on. There would be war in his future, he needed to learn now while he still had time. There were some of the best fighters of whole Westeros in the Kingsguard and the Red Keep, one of them should be able to teach him how to keep himself alive and lead people into battle. Joffrey wasn’t kidding himself that he would be able to avoid this, not as the crown prince.

So for the moment Joffrey enjoyed the last of his childhood, he made sure he ate as balanced as possible and that he was outside at least once a day, playing between the various rose bushes and trees that were planted in the Red Keep’s main garden, always in the sight of the Kingsguard and his mother's watchful gaze.

The longer Joffrey watched the members of the Kingsguard the more he came to dismiss most of them as potential teachers. Mandon Moore was too compassionless and probably wouldn’t be able to explain to Joffrey what he was doing wrong, Boros Blount was a coward and Joffrey even suspected him of being incompetent, there was something cruel in Meryn Trant and Preston Greenfield was not much better. The only two options Joffrey saw were Barristan Selmy and his father-uncle Jaime Lannister. It shouldn’t have surprised him so much that most in the Kingsguard were unsuitable to their tasks. Once he was King he would have to find a way to get rid of the useless ones.

Living in the Red Keep was… both totally normal to Joffrey and not. Having an idea about how running water and flushing toilets work and then suddenly not being able to use them took some adjustment, on the other hand his instincts told him that the priviesand chamber pots were a completely normal part of everyday life. And they were, though he had to admit that he avoided the chamber pots as much as possible, preferring to get up and using the outhouse that was adjourning to his mother’s rooms.

As befitting his age, Joffrey still lived in one of the adjourning rooms that his mother possessed, not the nursery because that was occupied by a newborn Myrcella. She had arrived on the 25^th of March in 290 and was a tiny thing. Joffrey had been allowed to hold her with the help of his mother and he hadn’t expected to feel such a fierce love for his tiny little sister. She had done no wrong and her fate would be death if he didn’t interfere. With this new resolution in mind My Joffrey began to beg his father-uncle and Ser Barristan Selmy for sword training.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep Castle

“This… this is really interesting.” Jeyne said thoughtfully after she swallowed the last bit of her curry dish and gestured at the passage about Cersei Lannister Baratheon, “There hasn’t been an account about what TRULY goes on in the royal family since the love letters between King Rickon III and Lady Eileen Blackwood were found in 1842 and made public with the permission of her Grace, the Queen.”

Hedda nodded thoughtfully, very relaxed after loading up on fatty food and lemon water, “I’m rather astonished myself that King Joffrey speaks so unfavorably of both his mother and father. I mean we knew from accounts that Robert Baratheon was a man whor* and had fathered at least two dozen bastards in his life but normally highborn children were brought up to respect and never question their parents and the king… especially the king.”

“Not always, though. There have been instances in history in which children have found their parents too weak and overthrew them… but you are right they always worded it less drastic in the historic accounts. The latest of such occurrences was sixty years ago when the late King married a Mooton and ignored any input from the then Queen Dowager Alysanne Martell Baratheon. Until her death thirty years ago there was no contact and even now the relations between the Martells and the main royal line are strained at best.” Jeyne said thoughtfully.

Hedda hummed, she never paid very much attention to the current events surrounding their royal family, preferring to explore what had happened long in the past. So she turned their conversation back to the original topic, “Maybe we will learn more about King Joffrey’s reasons in later passages. Now his relationship with his siblings was clearly very favorable as often as he brings them up… That might actually explain why the Princess Myrcella had such an atypical match made for her, if he was close to her might have allowed her to marry for love instead of political reasons. Her husband was only third in line of succession at the time of the marriage and didn’t stand to inherit anything of note, so historians have been puzzling about the reasons of King Joffrey for marrying his sister off like that. Some even said it was so that Myrcella’s children would be removed from the succession and prevent a similar uprising as the Blackfyre Rebellion… personally in never thought that made much sense, Prince Tommen who had a much better claim had a, then, typical match made for him.”

“Who did she marry?” Jeyne asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I will show you once I have finished translating the first dozen or so chapters and then we can try to reconstruct the timeline. I called my office, and my assistant back home is digitalizing all my notes about the period around King Joffrey’s reign for additional information. Has Dr. Karstark called you back?” Hedda answered distractedly.

“He is still at the excavation at the Fist of the First Men and will only be able to join us in a week at the earliest. Drs. Redwyne and Erenford will be here in the morning.”

Hedda grimaced at the thought of Jocelyn Erenford.

“Erenford? She is sloppy.”

“Yes. I don’t like it either but she was present when I called Dr. Redwyne and couldn’t be persuaded away.”

Hedda sighed but nodded, turning her attention back to the scanned pages.

During these early years, several teachers come to my mind on which I look back fondly and whose teachings greatly influenced my outlook on life and the kingdom. Maester Arwick who was responsible for educating me in Westeros’ noble houses, my letters and the simplest of maths. Daven Lannister, a member of the cadet branch that settled in Lannisport, can be credited for many of my policies later in life for he taught me the economics of trade, how to balance a checkbook and more advanced mathematics. Finally, the man who I owe my survival in the treacherous waters of Westerosi politics for over sixty years was no other than Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale and the Hand of the King during my father’s rule. Jon Arryn taught me more about how our society worked and how one balanced various allegiances in one year than my father ever knew in his whole life.

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290 King’s Landing, Red Keep

As it turned out children as young as four weren’t allowed to learn how to swing a sword yet. Joffrey should have expected that, four year olds simply didn’t have the strength or attention span to concentrate. So when it became abundantly clear that his physical education had to wait he turned his attention to the academics. Or well as much as academics were taught in medieval Westeros. Convincing his mother that he wanted to learn how to read and write was a chore on itself. Cersei, being of the opinion that he was a prince and that he could learn how to read later on in life, was more than reluctant to grant his wish. Only the threat of throwing a tantrum finally made her agree and send for a Maester from Oldtown to educate the crown prince. Joffrey would have been satisfied with learning how to read from a septa but he wouldn’t waste this opportunity.

Maester Arwick was a relatively young man for his office and very eager to prove himself. So when Joffrey began to ask questions about the Order in between inquiries about this or that topic he answered eagerly and without censure. Yes, the Maesters really did serve each house in Westeros and yes they all could call on each other for help or to discuss problems. It made abundantly clear how powerful and well connected the Maesters of the Citadel were. He would have to be very careful with anything he did against them or he could find himself being slipped poison one day.

So for the next two years he spend about three hours a day with Maester Arwick and learned how to read and write the Common Tongue as well as basic additions and subtractions of numbers but also how to recognize most of the noble Houses of Westeros by banner, name and words. He learned about the history of House Baratheon and Lannister as well as the Targaryen rule and later on when he proved himself as knowledgeable enough in everything Westeros Maester Arwick had additional reading materials sent from the Citadel about Essos and the other lands that were known to the Maesters in Oldtown.

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Occupied with his new lessons and memorizing as much as possible Joffrey didn’t notice the first few times his mother compared their hair colors. Only around the fourth or fifth time it happened he finally realized what she was doing when she combed her fingers through his hair and put one of her own strands beside his head.

His hair was becoming darker.

That was… unexpected. From both the books and the series he knew that Joffrey then had been as blonde as one could get and there had been no darkening of his hair color. So he started to pay attention to the myrish floor-length mirror his mother kept in her main solar. The change was slow but undeniable, over the next two years his hair color changed from light blonde to dark blonde with several dark brown nearly black strands in his mop of curls. Joffrey knew that color. It had been the same color Charles had worn as a child and from his memories the hair would only continue to darken until it was dark brown in color. Though one major difference to the other man was his bone structure. While his hair and to a certain extend his eyes, which were developing a subtle ring of blue color on the outer edge, were changing, his body wasn’t and with any luck Joffrey would inherit the very sharp cheekbones that both his mother and father-uncle possessed.

And yes, he was STILL calling Jaime Lannister father-uncle in his mind. Because the dark hair wasn’t coming from Robert, it was coming from somewhere else but Joffrey was quite certain that there wasn’t one drop of Baratheon blood in his veins.

His mother’s reaction to his change of hair color was… well she clearly wasn’t happy about it. She wasn’t suddenly ignoring or neglecting him but… there were times when she couldn’t look at him. It wasn’t bad per se for Joffrey because he knew her reasons and he was also somewhat forewarned about her character from the books but any other child would probably get a complex from Cersei’s behavior.

To distract himself, his body was that of a very easily upset child after all, he began to explore more of the Red Keep and so crossed the path of Robert more than once. With surprising consequences.

292 AC, King’s Landing, Maegor’s Holdfast, servant hallway

“Boy!!!” a loud voice echoed through the hallway Joffrey had chosen to check out today.

Wide eyed he turned around to be confronted by Robert Baratheon followed by Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Borros Blount.

Joffrey bit his lip before he asked tentatively, “Yes, King father?”

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be with your mother?”

Joffrey looked guilty to the side before answering, “I’m exploring?”

Robert stared at him than burst into laughter, “Nosy brat, are you? Well come on, the hallway isn’t very interesting. There are better places to explore. And stop adding King in front of father.”

Joffrey made his eyes widen and smiled brightly up at the man that was considered his father. He saw the slight softening of Robert’s expression and inwardly laughed in triumph, he had been practicing this eager expression for weeks and it had already proven its worth with several servants, that it also influenced the king was the icing on top.

That afternoon Joffrey was allowed to accompany the king to the training fields for the first time. His mother had been very firm about Joffrey staying inside Maegor’s Holdfast and the gardens along it since the day of his birth. He watched fascinated as Robert fought with various members of the Red Keep guard and Ser Barristan himself, he was surprisingly quick for such a heavy man.

“Can I learn that too?” Joffrey finally asked once they stopped for a short break.

Robert looked up at that, clearly delighted and turned to Ser Barristan, “He is old enough to begin with sword training, right?”

Ser Barristan nodded, “Six years is a fine age to start learning the sword, your Grace. The Master at Arms surely has practice weapons in the right size for the Prince.”

Robert nodded eagerly and so they made their way into the armory where Joffrey was equipped with a wooden training sword fitting for his age and size and a belt to carry it on his waist when he wasn’t using it. The experienced knights and fighters instructed him to get used to the weight and how to run with it in the way.

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To say that Cersei was less than impressed with Joffrey starting sword lessons was an understatement. He could hear her screeching about it two rooms down, through stone walls. In the end she couldn’t do anything about it. Not with Robert and Joffrey both wanting him to learn. It was also the first time Joffrey was confronted with Cersei Lannister the spoilt child instead of Cersei Lannister the Queen and mother. She slighted him for a week before she allowed him back into her solar and arms. For a boy of seven that is a hard blow, at that age a child is still very dependent on its mother and her affection. So to be so in obvious disfavor with Cersei, even when he had the memories of an adult, was very disconcerting for Joffrey. In Cersei’s defense at the first indication of Joffrey bursting into tears in front of her chambers, she nearly fell in her hast to open the door and comfort him. Still, that was a lesson that Joffrey truly committed to memory in regards to his mother. Even if she didn’t do it for long, she was not above emotionally punishing her own child if something didn’t go her way.

Probably to offset Robert’s influence on Joffrey, Cersei let another tutor come, this time from Lannisport for additional education besides Maester Arwick. Daven Lannister, a very intelligent man of the Lannister cadet branch, was paid to teach him High Valyrian, advanced mathematics and most importantly in Joffrey’s eyes economics and how trade worked in Westeros.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“Jon Arryn… right he was one of the commanders during Robert’s Rebellion and later the Hand of the King. I remember him from one of those mural relieves in the Eyre. Apparently, it was commissioned by his young wife after his death.” Jeyne said suddenly.

“Hhhm?” Hedda muttered halfheartedly, most of her concentration was still on the text in front of her.

“Remember when Director Sullivan tried to get additional artifacts for the Targaryen dynasty-exhibition from Lord Arryn? He sent me and Michael up to their ancestral seat where his son was vacationing while he tried to convince the current Lord that those three swords and two necklaces were absolutely essential for the success of the exhibition? We waited three days for the go ahead. Until then the steward saw it as his duty to impart even the minutest details of the Eyre’s history on us… even though neither of us specialized in the medieval style in which the Eyre is held even today. In his defense though, he made it interesting. There were several anecdotes about the main line Arryn’s history that were rather bloody … in any case Lord Jon Arryn was one of the longest living Lords of his time and he saw five Kings sit on the Iron Throne during his life.”

Hedda looked up at that, “Seriously?”

“Four Targaryens and Robert Baratheon who he put himself on the throne. The Eyre steward called him the true ruler during Robert’s reign and I’m inclined to believe him by now.” Jeyne continued idly.

Hedda hummed thoughtfully, also in favor of that theory. Hedda's expertise wasin decoding and translating old manuscripts, mostlyMaester texts, marriage certificates and small bibles, but in documents that old there was often some hints of the political situation at that time and so Hedda had learned to read between the lines rather quickly.

As any child of noble birth my arms training started early. I was around six name days when I was first introduced to wooden practice swords. The Master-at-arms Ser Menwin Staedmon was my primary tutor for the most basic fighting stances in various weapons ranging from the sword and other bladed armsto the spear and the war hammer my father favored. I was even taught how to handle obscure deviceslike the whip, spiked chains and nunchaku that were the preferred choice of weapon further east in the world. Projectile weapons like the bow, crossbow and various sling types were taught to me by another man, named Wyllis Waters, a highborn bastard of a Crownland Lord that had made it to Master-at-arms and counted to the most skilled bowmen the kingdom had seen up until then.

These two men were responsible for building the foundation on which I continued to rely on for the rest of my life. Early on I had seen the consequences of what idleness and gluttony could do to a warrior. Since the start of his reign King Robert had gained at least seven stone and with only sporadic weapon practice much of his fighting skills had diminished. Not that he wasn’t still dangerous if given some kind of weapon, but the Robert Baratheon that had conquered a kingdom with his war hammer was long gone by then. So instead of taking my father as a role model I strived to be like Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and someone who at over sixty years of age had still been one of the most dangerous men in Westeros. His example encouraged me to hold onto daily weapon practice even at my most occupied, and I hold this practice accountable for the long and healthy life I was blessed with.

292 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, the Queen’s Solar

Joffrey’s arms training began with half an hour of sword practice in the morning, after lunch and before dinner each day for the first six months before it was increased in the years following. At first it barely took away from his leisure time but soon with his education growing more advanced and subjects like dance, courtly behavior and customs being added, the time Joffrey spent running around in the gardens or sitting by his mother’s side shrank. Seeing his family time diminished like this, the prince made it a point to visit his mother at least once a day and relate to her the happenings in his life, that also afforded hima glimpse on his younger siblings. Myrcella with her nearly three and Tommen with his two years were beginning to explore the Queen’s apartments and Joffrey loved to follow them around, watching their every step. His mother seemed to forgive him for taking up martial training and spending time with Robertthe moment she watched him with his younger siblings.

“You like to play with your younger siblings, don’t you my little lion.” Cersei crooned from her position on her favored chair, a glass of wine in her hands.

“They are my younger siblings, until they can do it themselves I will protect them, always.” Joffrey answered back honestly.

Cersei smiled at that and gestured him to come to here. When he stood before her she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I know you will, my little lion prince.”

XXXXXXXXX

Another change the sword training brought was Joffrey’s move to his own rooms. Apparently, he was now considered old enough to live alone and start his own household separate from that of his mother and younger siblings. His rooms consisted out of a bedroom, two solars and rooms for personal servants and several guards and companions. For now the guards and servants consisted out of both his mother’s and father’s retinue but in the coming years he was expected to choose his own staffand fill the empty rooms with noble sons who would serve as companions and later as his advisers during his reign, as such the positions were highly coveted by the noble families and within a day of the announcement that Prince Joffrey was beginning his own household he received several letters of applications.
To cover the costs and wages of the staff he had just gained, Joffrey was handed the control over several of the lands and properties that had been in his name since birth. Not him personally of course, for he was still too young for this responsibility, and so a Baratheon steward, named Victaron Crabb and his assistants took over thecare of Joffrey'sproperties. It would be their task for the next ten or so years to make sure that the prince'spurse was always full enough to cover the costs of his household and other pursuits.
Crabb turned out to be a solemn man in his thirties that watched with reluctant approval when Joffrey asked to see the ledgers whereall the revenues and costs were listed. As far as Joffrey had been able to find out through the servants Crabb was the younger brother of the current Lord Crabb, a third son that never stood to inherit anything andwho had also shown no promise with the sword. So his fatherhad found him a position in the royal Baratheon household early on as a scribe and later custodian of the many royal holdings.

The partofhis newly foundindependence that Joffrey probably enjoyed the mostwas the fact that he could finally organize his schedule to his own specifications. There was no overbearing Queen that could veto his plans because she thought he was too young or to good to do this or that.
Saidlessons were now also becoming increasingly complex which suited Joffrey just fine, he was sick of learning things by rote.
One thing that Joffrey hadn’t expected was that courtly behavior also included music lessons, he was taught tosing and play at least one instrument.Because of Robert'sstill ongoing feud with a long dead Rhaegar Targaryen the harp was out, so Joffreystarted to learn how to play the lute, until one day a Braavosian merchant brought something called the pianoforte to the keep. Joffrey recognized it as a rudimental piano and once it was tuned by the daughter of the merchant it became a permanent fixture in his new rooms. The presence of the musical instrument had astonished and confused Joffrey for some time until her remembered that Braavos was comparable to an early Renaissance Venice, so the invention of the instrument wasn't inconceivable.

The teacher for his new instrumentarrived several months later and taught Joffrey some basic melodies before his own knowledge was exhausted. One good thing of the Braavosian music teacher’s presence was that Joffrey came into contact with the first tentative attempts atsheet music. A concept that made spreading various plays for various instruments easier. While no virtuoso or truly interested in music, Joffreyfound the task of producing music a pleasant one, most songs and melodies were very simple and easy to replicate once he had heard them a few times. It also gave him additional time to spend with his younger siblings because his mother and her ladies-in-waiting became a regular fixture at his bi-weekly practice.

293 AC, King’s Landing, Reed Keep, the Apartments of the Crown Prince

“Prince Joffrey? You have visitors.” a tentative servant said from the balcony door.

Joffrey looked up, his eyes widened and a brilliant smile lit up his whole face.

“Uncle Renly!!!” he called and put his book aside to run to his uncle and hug him.

Said young man laughed deeply and swung him up into his arms for a quick cuddle, that Joffrey protested only half-heartedly.

“Hello there, young prince.” the Baratheonsaid amused, his eyes wandering to the book Joffrey had left on the balcony bench, “Is there a reason why you squander such a perfectly nice day with book work?”

“Maester Arwick will test my knowledge tomorrow on the second Blackfyre Rebellion.” he said with a small pout.

Renly nodded commiserating, “Well, I am sure that you can push your assessment back a day if you tell him that your uncle arrived and kidnapped you.”

“You think so?” Joffrey asked with all the doubt of a seven-year-old.

“Why don’t we ask him. But before that I want to introduce you to somebody. Joffrey this is Loras Tyrell, my squire, he has been with me for a year now.”

Joffrey turned his attention to the brown-haired boy, maybe ten or eleven years of age, he had a beautiful face and expressive golden eyes that peered up at him.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Loras of House Tyrell.” Joffrey chirped, just as he had been taught.

He squirmed a bit until his uncle let him down and he could stretch out his hand to shake Loras’. The Tyrell boy’s face lit up at the gesture and he grinned at Joffrey.

“The pleasure is mine, prince Joffrey.” He answered well-bred but there was a genuine excitement in his eyes that couldn’t be faked.

“Where are we going, uncle?” Joffrey then asked Renly.

Renly grinned at that, “Now that would be telling.”

Knowing of the booksit had at first surprised Joffrey how well he got on with Renly after their introduction during his fifth name day.His young uncle turned out to belively and full of stories and alreadyhad a rather vast knowledge of customs, dance and other noble pursuits that he happily imparted on his nephew.

It was Renly who first introduced him to other noble children in and around King’s Landing, and it was him who guided Joffrey through his first social gatherings outside the royal court with advice and several impromptu rescues whenthe prince was stumped for words or actions. Not that the encounters would have resulted inany kind of social repercussions, other than momentary embarrassment. Joffrey was still considered a child after all and certain mistakes were to be expected. These social gatherings that he was participating in, often ended in playtime for the children in various gardens and were the equivalent of a modern birthday party. As the crown prince Joffreywas the popular kid that was invited to all of them and everyone was vying for his attention.
After the first few events these parties quickly lost the appeal to Joffrey and hegrew exhausted of the invitations, because as the crown prince he couldn't just stop coming heinstead restricted his attendances to once every two months to keep the nobles happy. He had his personal scribe, a young man of eighteen named Marwin Hogg, keep track of exactly how often he was attending which house to avoid favoringanyone.
That was another lesson he learned from his uncle, Renly made certain that Joffrey knew how to make polite excuses and sooth over problems with a few words, somethingthat he would have never learned from his parents who were simply incapable of said social skill or unwilling to learn.

It confused Joffrey how the cruel version of himself had detested the man so, he always looked forward to Renly’s visits. The Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was accomplished in many skills that young lords of Westeroswere expectedto master in their livesand more importantlyexperienced inhow to navigatethe political minefieldat court. After the first time his uncle had to rescue him from a rather uncomfortable situation with a courtier Renlykept a close eye on Joffrey until he had imparted several vital politicallessons onto him, for which Joffrey was immensely grateful for. These lessons about the royal court and politics quicklyspread over into other fields as well.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

Joffrey Baratheon - 7 years old (Evan Schelton)

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Hedda circled the names in her translation for further research. There was so little known about the actual education a prince and other noble children went through in that time that it certainly would gather interest with other historians. That his uncle played an important part in his upbringing was a bit more comprehensible, a family member would have been more easily entrusted with the care and education of the future king than a complete stranger.

“The first results are in.” Jeyne sing-songed from the door.

“And?”

“The pages are around 1500 years old, the machine is still calibrating the exact date but the authenticity of the Journal as a medieval document has been proven… oh you probably should put your phone on mute, someone leaked to the press that you are the primary translator of the new found artifact.”

Hedda groaned but did what she was told. Just great she would probably need a new phone number after this was over.

My first attempt at governing anything of note happened in the year 293 AC. A conversation with a close friend, Ser Loras Tyrell, then still squire under my uncle Lord Renly, ensured that I developed an interest in breeding horses. As one of the pursuits that was deemed acceptable for a young lord or prince, my uncle encouraged my interest and introduced me via raven to Ser Loras elder brother, Lord Willas Tyrell, the future Lord Paramount of the Reach. A few letters into our acquaintance and I had gained knowledgeable men in horsecraft almost by accident (those who know of my uncle's rather jovial and persistent nature will know thatthere is NO such thing as a happy accident when Renly Baratheon is involved) and only weeks later I had been persuaded into convertinga stronghold held in my name into a horse breeding facility.Of course, after the aptly named Oak Valley Hall and the surrounding lands had been prepared for its new use, a visit was in order. And so I encountered the one bane of my existence that would follow me for the rest of my life. The truly atrocious roads of Westeros.

293 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey stared at the giant black war horse that was the latest of his father's rather extravagant and somewhat useless gifts. Robert had clearly been delighted at being informedthat Joffrey was making good progress in his weaponstraining and was proofing himself to beambidextrous. Which was bullsh*t, Joffrey just knew that if he learned how to use his off arm nearly as well as his preferred one, he would hopefullybe able to catch his future opponents of guard if he switched hands. He trained twice as hard for that particularskill and all his trainers were aware of it.

The horse, while a beautiful animal, was still a bit too advanced for the seven-year-old crown prince and the gruff old stable master was right in stopping Joffrey from riding him until he was more experienced (and less breakable). By now Joffrey knew the dour man that wasresponsible for the Red Keep's stables rather well. Janos had been initially responsible for teaching him how to ride and was one of Joffrey's strictest taskmasters to date, the man loved horses and certainly knew what hewas doing and so Joffrey acquiesced graciously to hisdecision.

“It is a shame but Janos is experienced in such matters and I would prefer to avoid a fall of my own making.” Joffrey explained to Loras while they watched as one of the more experienced stable hands ranthe stallion through his paces.

Loras nodded, “It is a magnificent beast but your safety is paramount, my prince. What do you intend to do with ituntil you have the right size to ride it?”

“Do?” Joffrey asked confused.

“Do you not intend to breed him? He is such a magnificent creature; it would be a shame to lose his lineage.”

“I hadn’t thought of that… and once again I show my ignorance in an entirely new topic. You must be growing exasperated with me, Loras.”

Loras laughed a bit at that, “You are seven years of age, my prince. There are men of noble birth two or three times your age with only a fraction of your knowledge. I only know a little about this kind of endeavor myself and that is because my eldest brother Willas is an avid breeder of various creatures and tends to impart knowledge onto his younger siblings whenever possible. Come, let us search for Lord Renly, he surely has some advice concerning the topic.”

Renly did, and after several exchanged letters with Loras’ brother Willas, Joffrey accidently wandered into the hobby of horse breeding himself. The breeding business also facilitated Joffrey’s first longer journey away from King’s Landing. He rode accompanied by his uncle and Loras and twice the amount of guards that was normal for a travel party, even one of a prince, but both his mother and father had insisted on this precaution on his very first journey outside their vicinity.

Traveling in medieval Westeros was… slow. Theoretically he had known that the King’s Road was one of the few actual streets in Westeros but the reality of actually traveling on the dirt track barely big enough for two horses to ride side by side was less than glamorous. Joffrey could practically see the mud pit it would turn into if it rained for several days in a row.

“Is the road like this everywhere?” Joffrey finally asked on the second day of their journey.

Beside him Renly laughed, “No my dear nephew, they are even worse sections in other parts of Westeros. There are routes in the Stormlands that are so rarely traveled on that they have trees and hedges sprouting on themand those have to be removed before ajourney can becontinued.”

“Gods.” Joffrey murmured horrified.

XXXXXXXXX

Setting up a horse ranch was surprisingly easy for a prince with an uncle like Renly. Before Joffrey and his companions had even reached his property, the castellan and the hired smallfolk had already taken care of most of the tasks that were needed to turn part of the wooden land around the castle into appropriate paddocks and built several additional stables inside the walls.
The qualified staff, that would breed the various horses and take care of their health,travelledin Joffrey'scompany and had come with recommendations from Lord Willas own breeding facilities. They were former apprentices and assistants of the men that had been working for the Tyrell heir for the last five years and were not complete idiotsaccording to Janos,whowas notoriously hard to impress. Additionally as a gift from breeder to budding breeder Lord Willas had sent along two young broodmares of his best stock. In the weeks before their departure from King’s Landing, Joffrey’s new breeding stable master, Rainon, and his colleagues bought more thantwenty mares of good lineage that would become the foundation of the breeding endeavor.With thatadditional entourage, their travel pace was unfortunately slower than anticipated, the journey that would have normally taken four days by horse took them well over ten days and at the end of it Joffrey wasmore than sick of the slow pace and grateful whenOak Valley Hall finally came into view.

The former Targaryen castle was made from white stone and had seven towers with decently thick walls surrounding it. The Lord’s Tower had been renamed into the Prince’s Tower and would serve Joffrey and his household from now on when he visited.
On his way inside Joffrey realized how truly understaffed the castle was when he counted the guards along the battlements and the small crowd that had lined up in front of the main hall. Not that this was really thatsurprising, after all the castle had been unused since before Robert was crowned king and mostlyserved as a concentration point for all the revenues of the surrounding lands before theywere sent on to King’s Landing.

The current castellan was in his late fifties and had served under several Targaryen kings before he continued his tasks under Robert. The man was loyal without a doubt but when Joffrey had seen the age of the knight that was overseeing Oak Valley hall he had realized that the man would not be able to fulfill his tasksfor many more years. So Joffrey had brought somebody along toassist the old castellan and take over as castellan once the old one had died.

Joffrey unseated from his gelding and made his way over to who he assumed to be the castellan. The man could barely hold himself upright without help so when he made motions to kneel in front of Joffrey, he quickly interfered.

“Please, there is no need for that. Ser Daven Lancaster, I presume.” Joffrey said, halting the old man before he could sink to the ground.

“Yes, my prince.” The old man rasped out, clearly thankful forthe gesture.

The people around him though dutifully sank into the expected kneeling position while the castellan just bowed his head slightly forward. After an appropriate amount of time had passed Joffrey gestured them to rise again and looked expectedly at the castellan.

“Welcome to Oak Valley Hall, my prince. The castle is yours.” the man rasped out the traditional words.

“I thank you, Ser Lancaster.” Joffrey answered politely before he turned the man’s attention to his companions, “May I introduce Lord Renly Baratheon, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and his squire Loras Tyrell.”

“My Lords.”

“Ser Lancaster, a pleasure.” Renly murmured, polite smile on his lips, while Loras only wordlessly bowed his head, befitting his station as squire.

They shared the traditional bread and salt before the welcoming feast and Joffreykept the conversations to polite and inconsequentialtopics for the evening to get a feeling for the people that ran one of his properties.

XXXXXXXXXX

On the next morning, after Joffrey had inspected the just built structures and conferredwith the Rainon about their suitability, he made his way to castellan Lancaster to introduce him to Ser Edmure Wendwater, who Joffreyintended as his successor.The blatant relief on Ser Lancaster’s face when Joffrey introduced him made the prince hopeful that there wouldn’t be any problems between the two men.

Ser Wendwater had been, strangely enough, a recommendation of Janos who had, in his own way, been very approving of Joffrey's newest interest. According to the gruff stable master the twenty-five-year-old knight and fourth son of Lord Wendwater wasn't a wuss (read: upstanding) and not half bad with the horses (a compliment that Janoshad paid only one other man as far as Joffrey was aware and that was Ser Barristan Selmy, a ratherexceptional rider even in his advanced age). As the son of a noble and knight he also had the required education to run a household and set up guard schedules with little help or oversight. Still, even with Janos rather glowing recommendation Joffrey had taken the time to get to know the knight in his father’s retinue before offering him the position as future castellan.

In the following days Joffrey watched with little input as the horse masters settled into their new home and began to convey what items and craftsmen would be needed in the future for the breeding endeavor to make profits. Ser Edmure had continued to growpaler with each additional word on his list. Joffrey was less worried about the numbers, Lord Willas had warned him early on that establishing a breeding facility would eat a lot of money in the first few years before it became profitable,andthat such an endeavor had to be done right or it wouldn’t be worth the hassle.

Having seen his mother’s wardrobe costs, it amused him to realize that four of her more ostentatious garments were enough to pay the estimated costs of Oak Valley Hall for a year.

XXXXXXXXXX

The last week that Joffrey spent in Oak Valley Hall was used to introduce him to hunting small game for the very first time. Renly, who had a rather elaborate groomingroutine when at court, had no problems withsoiling himself throughfresh earth, blood and guts while hunting. He also took the time to show Joffrey how to gut the rabbits and pheasants they (read: Renly) caught as cleanly as possible, apparently another skill a young lord should be capable of.

“I will leave the big game to your father, Robertwill want to teach you himself once you have reached an age at whichyou can join him on one of his hunts.” Renlysaid with a smile before they returned to the castle with their spoils.

All in all it had been a rather pleasant day in the woods andJoffrey decided that while hunting would probably never be one of his favorite activities he certainlycould come to enjoyit if the right company was present.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

294 AC, Crownlands, Oak Valley Hall

Joffrey stretched his arms over his head before he made his way out of his rooms to search for his uncle and Loras. It had been a year since they had helped him set up the breeding operation and now that the first foals had been born he had invited them back to see the progress that had been made.

Ser Edmure Wendwater, the castellan-in-training of Joffrey’s Oak Valley Hall, was waiting in front of his door, about to knock. From the letters Joffrey had received from the old castellan during the last year, the young Wendwater had been a good choice for the castle and would ensure that it would run smoothly during Joffrey’s long absences.

“Ser Wendwater, good morrow.” Joffrey greeted the older man.

“My prince, to you as well, I hope you had a restful sleep.”

“My sleep was undisturbed, Ser. I have to admit that I am looking forward to inspect the changes that have been made. I have, of course, been kept informed through your and Ser Lancaster’s letters but I am eager to see the results myself.”

Ser Wendwater relaxed at that, “As you wish, my prince.”

“Has my uncle risen yet, or his squire Loras Tyrell?”

“Not yet, as far as I am aware. Do you wish to send someone?”

“No. Let them sleep, they have been travelling nearly constantly since Storm’s End. Is there anything that requires your attention right now?”

“No my prince, I am at your disposal for the rest of the day.”

“Then would you care to accompany me around the castle until the morning meal is served?”

“It would be my pleasure, my prince.” Ser Wendwater answered, clearly delighted.

They spent nearly an hour walking through the structure, from the new stables up to the oldest tower and discussed all the changes and the expanded household as well as the expenditures. Ser Edmure had watched carefully as he handed over the ledgers with the final sums he had spent in the last year. It was more than Joffrey had initially authorized but the prince only nodded.

“You were correct in hiring additional hands and guards for the Hall. The expenditure was clearly necessary for his horse breeding facility to become profitable in a few years. I will authorize the additional sums and more so that you won’t have to contact me every month when small repairs have to be paid for. Do not misunderstand me, Ser Edmure. I expect every sum to be accounted for but you have proven yourself reliable and fast thinking so a certain amount of trust is reasonable in my opinion.”

“Thank you, my prince.”

When Joffrey finally arrived on the balcony the breakfast was alreadylaidout for him, Renly and Loras, saidcompanions had already arrived and were lounging on their seats, faces turned in direction of the morning sun.

“Good morrow, uncle Renly, Loras.” He greeted, in an excellent mood now that he had inspected most of the castle.

“Good morrow, nephew. Slept in?” Renly asked amused.

“No, I have been inspecting the castle and consulted with Ser Wendwater about future investments and the state of the structures. After breakfast I intend to seek out the stable master.”

“Always so dutiful.” Renly said with an indulgent smile, “Is there some room for Loras and me in your day.”

“Always uncle.” Joffrey answered with a laugh before getting more serious, “I hope you had a chance to recover from your journey, you barely had time to rest in King’s Landing.”

Loras and Renly looked at each other and then with indulgent smiles at Joffrey.

“Do not fret Joffrey, both Loras and I are well and we did understand your impatience to leave King’s Landing. The smell during that time of year is rather intense.”

Joffrey grimaced and nodded, that had been one reason to leave the city, the other had been his mother’s insistent whining about her younger brother, the imp, coming to the capital. His father had looked rather wistful when Joffrey had informed them of his departure but Lord Arryn had prevented any kind of thoughts of leaving. He was rather good at getting the King to do things… well as long as it didn’t concern money, there Robert became stubborn.

“I am thinking about making visitsto Oak Valley Hall a yearly occasion. Not only is the air far better than in the capital, there are also no courtiers and lords with young daughters to accost me at every turn.” Joffrey confided in his companions.

Loras was now laughing, “Ah, the drawbacks of being the crown prince. Say, does your father have a bride in mind for you?”

“I certainly hope not! I have just turned eight years old.” Joffrey answered with a squawk, “Why are you asking?”

“I do have a sister and several cousins who wonder.” Loras answered amused.

Joffrey looked pained, “I know that I must marry one day, but I still consider myself a child. Please not right now, ask me again in ten years?”

Renly snorted at that, looking both amused and compassionate, he had after all, a rather similar problem as the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

Loras just grinned unrepentant, “I will, if you give me some hints what you search for in a bride.”

Joffrey sighed, knowing what Loras was getting at, “Tell your sister I want somebody with a brain, that is political astute enough to survive the viper nest that is King’s Landing. I categorically refuse to have a marriage like my parents do, I want a partner who will support and assist me in ruling and will share the burden, it doesn’t have to be love at first sight but I certainly want to get along withthe woman I’m going to raise a family with… I think I don’t need to add the pretty to this, do I?”

Loras grinned at the last part and then nodded thoughtfully at the first few sentences, “My sister is very pretty and smart too. She is being taught by our grandmother.”

“The Queen of Thornes?” Joffrey asked in surprise that Margaery was already receiving lessons before he nodded slowly, “Your grandmother does have a certain reputation…” then he sighed, “Look Loras, I can’t promise you anything right now. My father is the king and if he decides that I marry this or that highborn lady I will do my duty… if he lets me choose on my own I will certainly consider your sister but it is hard to decide who to spend the rest of my life with when I have never met them.”

“We could probably arrange a meeting…” Renly said thoughtfully.

“Uncle, be very careful. If anyone in King’s Landing gets wind of that they will do their utter most to thwart your plans. My mother most of all.”

Renly and Loras looked at each other before nodding grimly at Joffrey.

“We will leave the possibility of a meeting for now. May I still pass on your words to my sister?”

“You may. To your sister and grandmother only, though. As I have heard rumors about your grandmother, I have also heard rumors about your father.”

Loras grimaced and nodded.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two days after Joffrey’s arrival he let the local stonemason from the village that also belonged Joffrey come to the Keep. He was really getting sick of those bad roads between King’s Landing and Oak Valley Hall. It was time that he stole the intellectual property from the Romans and put that knowledge about paving Charles parents’ driveway to good use. Joffrey made sure he was very clear in his specifications when asked the local experts about road building options and to his surprise there was a rather easy, if a bit expensive solution to his problem.

Surprisingly cement and concrete were not new concepts to Westeros, it just wasn’t popular, all the rich clients preferred buildings made from stone and the small folk were much too poor to be able to afford concrete. What it was used for in Westeros was as a form of more expensive mortar if the client insisted on the most durable building way. There were several mines all over the continent that mined volcanic ash and the processing and mixing of the cement was mostly done on sight. The original recipe had been an invention of an alchemist several decades ago who had been experimenting with various elements to create precious stones. After it became clear that the invention would never be very profitable they sold the recipe to various mining endeavors.

Once the method and building materials had been determined, Joffrey ordered fifty barrels of the Westerosi cement mixture from the closest mine in the Crownlands. The first barrels arrived within days, the mine being less than a day trip away and with such a massive order came certain perks. Once the concrete had the right consistency for bricks Joffrey had the small folk hired for his project pour it into premade molds twice as wide and long as normal bricks and about four fingers thick. These concrete bricks, once dried were then laid on a bearing layer of sand and gravel with drainage ditches on either side. The ditch on the right side was constructed bigger because the road was slightly angled to the right to prevent water from pooling on the street, the angle was so minimal that it couldn’t be perceived without standing still for a long time. To grout the pavement another cement mortar mix was used and then the sides were fixated with large stones that were mostly hammered or buried into the ground and sat a bit below the pavement height to not obstruct the water run-off. The drainage ditch had several small water channels running off it that ran between various fields that Joffrey had ordered to be built between the paddocks. The farm hands were to test a form of field-rotation with feed and human produce in the coming years on those fields.

Joffrey stared at the fourteen feet wide and thirty feet long piece of concrete street that was twice and a half, nearly three times the size of the King’s Road and nodded slowly. The street was level (the slight slant wasn’t noticeable at a quick glance) and about two fingers higher than the surrounding ground so that the water would run into the ditch and it was easy to walk on and the bricks made it a nearly perfect flat surface.

The stone mason and brick layer that were responsible for Joffrey’s little experiment watched anxiously from the side as the prince inspected their work and only relaxed when a small smile spread over his face and he nodded in their direction. For something they had never done before it was very well made.

“Keep expanding the road along the paths that we marked out until you run out of cement, then have an eye on it, ask the villagers how the road is to travel on. I want to know if there are any kinds of flaws in the concept before I order more of them to be build.” Joffrey said absentminded, thinking about the money these streets would cost, not to mention the time put into their creation and upkeep, it would probably take centuries to cover the whole continent.

“Yes, my prince.” The stone mason murmured while the brick layer just nodded his head frantically up and down.

The people in the village beside the castle were very much in awe and fear of him. He was their future king so it was kind of expected. At least they didn’t freeze when he addressed them… well mostly.

When he returned from his inspection Renly looked amused at him, “Why spend so much money on a road that you will use only a few times a year?”

“It is a test uncle. If this road still stands in ten years despite daily usage of the small folk and various riders I will begin to implement them around King’s Landing.”

“All this because you can’t stand muddy roads?”

Joffrey’s lips twitched, “It is part of it.” He finally admitted and his uncle was once more laughing.

“Oh well, it is your money nephew.”

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Jeyne put down the pages Hedda had already translated and stared at her, “I have never seen so many different names in a medieval document. Normally they all begin and end with I…”

Hedda grinned from her place in front of her Mac, “I know! And look some of this names shine up in The Lineages and Histories of Westeros. Here is Renly Baratheon and on the Tyrell page there is Loras Tyrell and his siblings…”

She said while she scrolled through the digitalized version of the who is who book that was still regularly consulted by the blood purists of the noble houses. By now it had to be the 1900^th or more edition of the book that had been started by Grand Maester Malleon nearly 1700 years ago and was updated at least once a year, sometimes twice depending on the birth and death rates.

“I’m still cracking up about the bit howhe called the bad roads of Westeros the bane of his existence.” Jeyne admitted.

“We have accounts of before Joffrey’s reign that the roads often turned into mud traps during rain and were regularly swallowed by nature when not used enough. I can imagine that that made an impression on a young city boy like Joffrey.” Hedda answered dryly.

“That name though… Oak Valley Hall. Isn’t there a horse ranch a bit over an hour away with the same name?”

“You think it’s the same institution that was founded by King Joffrey?”

They looked at each other and then Hedda opened her laptop to google it on the Internet.

“Look at those pictures, that’s definitely a medieval structure… It says here that the horse ranch has been in royal possession for at least 900 years and is partially used as residence for various royal family members.”

“Think they would be interested in the document once it is translated?”

“Definitely. Maybe we will even get an invitation to look at the castle itself. Private property of the royals is so hard to get onto.” Hedda bemoaned.

There were several documents in the possession of various royal members that she would never get to view because they were on private property and the owners were unwilling to let anyone into their libraries.

Jeyne made another notation for a follow up of the document, by now they had already two pages full and they weren’t even nine pages into the journal.

A universal truth of life is that once you have experienced excellence you will never again be content with mediocrity. The same saying can be transferred to servants and household stewards. In my life I was rather fortunate to be surrounded by more people of the excellent variety then the mediocre ones, but that has to do with my practice of educating servants and stewards in the behaviors and attentiveness I have come to expect from them. The starting point of this practice was, as so many things in my life, an experience at Oak Valley Hall. Before I made said castle my primary retreat from the strains of King’s Landing, it had been empty of any real lord for over twenty years. The castellan and inhabitants had been reduced to a skeletal workforce early on and they soon had learned to handle the daily tasks with ruthless efficiency and often cross-trained in other functions to get the required tasks done. Such a person of this rather delightful human breed was the cook of Oak Valley Hall. A formidable spinster that had ruled the workforce for decades with an iron fist and seemed to be able to do the impossible with limited supplies and hands. Gunilda or the Battle Axe, as the peasants in the region have come to teasingly call her, was a woman approaching her fourth decade in the world when we were first introduced, and within three days of our stay she had taken over my household. Not that I was aware of that fact until a year later when I saw her scold my then still official Lannister steward that I had received from my mother about this or that mishap like an unruly child. I have to admit that I was rather intrigued by the phenomenon and continued to monitor the situation at hand more out of amusem*nt than any great plan for my future servants. That is… until one day an opportunity wandered into my courtyard in the form of a rather desperate woman searching for work for herself and her two sisters.

294 AC, Crownlands, Oak Valley Hall

Some days after he had first watched Gunilda at work, a commotion in the courtyard diverted Joffrey’s attention from his book about Essos.

“Anything milord, small tasks, collecting wood…” the woman spoke desperately and with a rather strong small folk accent.

“As I said woman, we don’t have any space!” Ser Edmure said firmly, though not unkindly, there was pity in his gaze.

Joffrey, curious by now walked up to the two, the woman, though at a closer look she could be hardly more than fifteen or sixteen years, was clothed in typical small folk wear and smelled rather strongly. He didn't think shewas ugly but it was rather hard to tell under all that grime, her black hair was held back in typical peasant fashion with a head scarf withwere several strands peeking out.

“What seems to be the problem?” Joffrey asked when he was only a few steps away.

“My Prince! Did we disturb you?” Ser Edmure asked anxiously, he knew that Joffrey did not appreciate being interruptedwhen he was reading.

Joffrey shook his head and just raised an eyebrow at the future-castellan, the woman was clearly frozen in fear and didn’t dare to look up.

“Massey here is searching for work, my prince. She and her sisters have been thrown out of their house after their uncletook over the tannery… unfortunatelyevery position in the castle has already been filled.”

Joffrey turned to Massey and asked considering, “How old are your sisters?”

“Twelve and eleven milord… I… I mean, your Grace.”

“Say my prince, I am not the King. Your abilities?”

“Cooking and cleaning, my prince. And we helped our father in the tannery. Making belts and other things…” she stuttered out in a high voice, she was so nervous that she was nearly in tears.

Joffrey thought about the servants backin King’s Landing that he suspected of being informants for this or that person at court and made a snap decision. If he wanted his staff to be spy free he would have to take in people that had never encountered Varys, Little Finger or any other noble in King’s Landing. Massey and hersisters were clearly desperate, young enough to be trained and would be beyond grateful to him. A good starting point to make them loyal only to him, as for their training… Joffrey had to suppress a rather evil grin when his thoughts wandered to the Battle Axe, Gunilda would either turn them into frighteninglyefficient servantsor eat them alive. Either way it was bound to be entertaining for Joffrey.

“Get your sisters, I’m in need ofservants and I find the ones in the Red Keep are not to my specifications. You three will learn what kind of behavior and skills I expect here at Oak Valley Hall and then accompany back to King’s Landing.”

The woman in front of him looked both elated and terrified before she stumbled in what she probably thought was a curtesy and gasped out, “Thank you, milord… I mean… my prince.” and then she scurried away.

Joffrey lips twitched, this was going to be interesting, beside himSer Edmure looked in askance but didn’t quite dare to ask.

“Please ensure that they have a room when they arrive, and tell Gunilda that she has three apprentices totrain up to her specifications.”

By the way Ser Edmure paled he already had an encounter with Gunilda himself.

"Oh and do tell the gardener to plant those orange pits that were left over from breakfast in the garden... tell him to plant every kind of seed that is somehow salvageable, I rather like eating fruit and berriesdirectly from the plant."

XXXXXXXXX

The first thing Joffrey had the three sisters learn, was that he insisted on good personal hygiene and that they were expected to clean themselves at least once a day, more often if necessary. Which had called on a rather interesting panic attack in the youngest of the three, Mab. After Joffrey had finally calmed her down and asked why she was sobbing about a bit of water she stuttered out about the dangers of bathing too often. Joffrey had stared at her for a long while before he had burst out into laughter at the sheer stupidity of that statement.

“Who told you that, drivel?” the prince asked, utterly bemused, “It’s the other way around. The cleaner your skin is the less likely an infection will set in if you do cut yourself. What is dangerous is bathing during the winter and going outside with wet hair. That is certainly an invitation for the Stranger but if you just clean your skin with a wet towel and then rub it dry with a clean one nothing will happen.”

All three sisters stared at him, they were clearly not believing him.

“Look at me.” He demanded, “I am clean. I clean myself every day. I take a bath at least once a week, more often if needed. I am not sick and the water has not weakened me to any kind of illness.”

With exasperation Joffrey noted that they were still not buying it. So he decided that he would have to order them, this was for their own good and his sense of smell.

“This is one of the expectations I have for my personal servants, do it or leave my employment today.” he said firmly.

The three sisters looked at each other fearfully before nodding slowly, clearly not willing to risk their newly found work.

This was going to be more exasperating than Joffrey had anticipated.

XXXXXXXXX

Fortunately, the lion share of ensuring the three sisters were trained up to Joffrey’s specifications fell to Gunilda, who had no problem with chasing them around the castle to learn various basic skills and techniques before forcing them to learn how to prioritize and interpret wishes of their employer. From the Lannister steward they learned a certain amount of etiquette and how to recognize the various classes, though that education would only start in full once they were back at King’s Landing. In the meantime Joffrey had set himself the goal to hammer discretion into their heads and possibly erase the horrible small folk accent the three had. He didn’t require them to talk like noble ladies but he wanted to at least understand what they were saying when they were addressing him.

Ten days into their employment Joffrey couldn't stand their tattered dresses any more and ordered three simple brown dresses from the seamstress with twowhite linen shirts to wear alternatively. The style was not unlike what the servants in King's Landing wore, only more modest, so distinguish them from other servants Joffrey also addedbroad belts withhispersonal coat of arms stamped into the leather and which could be used to attach various pouches or even a knife.

Joffrey’s personal coat of arms came into being during the selection of the brand the animals would receive to be able to identify the breeder. Additional markings, like the birth year and number were branded into the hoof to tell the animals apart but the breeder mark was apparently very important in Westeros. For simplicity's sake Joffrey just inverted the colors of his father's house and chose a frontal stag head instead of the whole animal. Within in days of his decision hisnew personal insignia began toadorn the banners at Oak Valley Hall, as well as incorporated in decorations around the whole castle.

In any case, Massey andsisters made a rather pretty picture in their new dresses, clean from dirt and grime and finally well-fed, with their hair out of their faces in either simple braids or with an Alice band keptback. Thanks to Gunilda’s training they would be adequate at fulfilling any of Joffrey’s needs and knew better than to pass on information to anyone but himself.

Chapter 8 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“Oh my Gods!” Jeyne laughed while she read through the page again, “King Joffrey had a sense of humor! Battle Axe.”

“I found the part about the roads far more interesting. If it’s true what he wrote he may have invented the first paved roads in Westeros. There are no records left about when and why they came to be, only that they started to become really popular around the year 400,” Hedda said thoughtfully.

So in a fit of idle curiosity and with a vague idea in the back of my mind the sisters Massey, Maege and Mab were employed and given into the not-so-tender hands of Gunilda. Their training had more far-reaching consequences than I intended but not once did I regret it in my lifetime.

On a more educational note, with me slowly but surely escaping my childhood days, Lord Arryn began to take an active interest in furthering my education and teaching me statecraft. During my life, I encountered few people who could compete with the sheer efficiency my father’s Hand had developed. With the King rather uninterested in stately affairs I soon realized how important Jon Arryn was for the continuing health of the realm. No, that is not quite right. It dawned on me that this man was clearly indispensable for the crown, what a tremendous task it would be to fill his shoes one day, and that this day wasn’t as far away as I wished. At eight name days, mortality was not a foreign concept to me anymore – I was surrounded by it. Servants died and were replaced by new ones, so were the nobles. Accidents happened in a city as massive as King’s Landing and if there was not at least one death in the tourneys my father coveted so, it was labeled a dull affair.

The thought of Lord Arryn – by then already 76 name days old – dying without suitable successors, was rather terrifying and filled me with an urgency and a penchant for safeguards that would save my life more than once. So in an effort to soften the blow that would be dealt to us when Lord Arryn inevitably passed, I paid close attention to what he was passing on to me.

294, King’s Landing, Tower of the Hand

“Enter,” the distinct voice of Lord Arryn spoke.

Joffrey slipped into the solar of the Hand of the King and waited until Lord Arryn looked up from the map spread on the table before him.

“My prince,” the old man said, astonished, before he nodded in greeting.

“Lord Arryn, I do hope that I am not disturbing you?”

“No, prince Joffrey. Please, what do you wish to speak about?”

Joffrey smiled slowly, making sure to look bashful, “I… master Daven has been instructing me in matters of law these past two weeks and while he is a man well-versed in theory I was wondering if I could join you and observe your actions as Hand of the King.”

Lord Arryn looked at him for a long moment before a warm expression wandered over his weathered face.

“A marvelous idea, prince Joffrey. I fear I do not have the time for a lesson today, there are several appointments that I cannot push back, but it should certainly be possible to meet up two or three times a week to discuss the duties of the Hand of the King. Once I am certain that you grasp the knowledge, we can move on to observing court and Small Council sessions. May I ask what sparked your interest in states craft, my prince?”

“A conversation with my uncle, Lord Arryn. Lord Renly spoke in vague manners about the responsibilities as Lord Paramount and I realized that what he was talking about was not covered in any of my lessons. If I am to rule these lands one day I need to know the ins and outs of it long before I take the throne.”

“My prince, that is very forward-looking of you but you are barely eight name days old.”

“Mayhaps, but from what I have observed in the last few years my lessons and responsibilities will only increase, so the more I learn early on, the less likely it will be that I am overwhelmed later.”

“Sound reasoning, then I will clear a section of my schedule in three days hence.”

“I thank you kindly, Lord Arryn,” Joffrey said with a nod before he returned to his rooms.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lessons with Jon Arryn meant not only learning about the various laws the Westerosi had to follow and how to render a judgement. Joffrey received a crash course in diplomacy and how to solve problems between vassals, set up marriages, circumvent various grabs for power of this or that lord, and manage the relationship with institutions like the Citadel and the Most Devout – how to keep them amiable and out of the crown’s hair.

It was no wonder that Littlefinger was able to steal money and put the crown in debt even under the eyes of a brilliant man like Jon Arryn. The Lord Paramount of the Vale was doing the job of nearly ten or more people and simply didn’t have the time to go over things in detail. And then he still had his own lands to govern, though at least there he had several competent men in place.

Lord Jon, as Joffrey began to call him, had very exacting standards but also what seemed to be an endless amount of patience. He was good at explaining concepts and didn’t mind to repeat them until Joffrey had a grip on the topic. It was no wonder that Robert and Ned Stark held the man in such high regard.

294 AC, King’s Landing, the Queen’s solar

“My Queen, Prince Joffrey is here to call on you.”

“Let him in,” his mother said, voice clearly delighted.

“Mother,” Joffrey greeted with a soft smile before he kissed her hand and then allowed himself to kiss her cheek as well.

Cersei’s whole face lit up at the gesture, like she always did when he felt like showing his affection for her after adhering to custom, and patted the seat beside her.

“You are in a rather good mood, Joffrey.”

“I have finally caught up with all the letters and missives that had accumulated during my stay at Oak Valley Hall and I have taken the day off. Would you care for my company today?”

Cersei laughed, utterly delighted by the prospect. “Tell me, what have you done on that estate of yours?”

Joffrey kept talks about business vague, he knew that his mother was easily bored of that and instead talked about the horses that had been born there, the enjoyable atmosphere and his decision to make a visit to Oak Valley Hall a yearly occasion.

Cersei sighed at that. “If it weren’t so far away I would love to accompany you but with Tommen and Myrcella…”

“Maybe when they are older. How have my younger siblings been?” Joffrey skillfully changed the topic.

“In good health. Myrcella has begun lessons and etiquette training and the septa has told me that she is very bright.”

Joffrey laughed and turned his attention to his sweet little sister who was playing dolls in one corner, with one of his mother’s handmaidens.

“Do you think she would like it if I practice reading with her?”

“I’m sure she would, my love,” Cersei said indulgently.

In her eyes, Joffrey could do no wrong and if he went against something she wanted it was somebody else’s fault. Joffrey slowly began to understand how the book-Joffrey had been able to turn in such a monster – he was nothing but a spoilt brat who had never learned the consequences of his actions. That there were consequences at all.

“Tommen as well, once he is the right age,” Joffrey mused before he turned his attention back to his mother. “But tell me, what has happened in the months I was gone?”

Cersei’s expression became sly before she began to share the gossip Joffrey had missed while he was at Oak Valley Hall. One good thing about his mother’s thirst for power was that she kept a constant eye on the other noble families in King’s Landing.

294 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey’s head was ringing and his left arm was pretty numb.

“You alright there Joff?” Robert boomed laughingly from above him.

“Ugh… that hurt.” the prince finally said once he was sure that he wouldn’t throw up, and picked himself of the ground with sheer force of will.

Robert chuckled once more, but sheathed his training sword and came closer, probably to check that he didn’t do any real damage to his heir.

“You are a scrawny little runt and take more after your mother’s side in body but you have the stubbornness of a real Baratheon in you,” Robert rumbled once he had checked that none of Joffrey’s bones were broken.

Joffrey snorted and wiggled his fingers to get the feeling back there. “Well I don’t think I can hold a shield for the rest of the day.”

“I concur my prince, may I suggest lessons in warfare instead?” Ser Barristan said from the side before he turned to Robert and added, “Your Grace is of course right about prince Joffrey’s body type but you should not forget that he is able to use both hands nearly equally well and already he is faster than most boys three or four years his elder. Once he is a man grown, he will be very dangerous with or without Baratheon body.”

Robert’s face lit up like it always did when the knights or master-at-arms complimented Joffrey’s combat abilities.

Joffrey smiled back and then asked slyly, “will you join us this time in the warfare lessons? We have stopped at the Ghiscari battle tactics.”

Robert grimaced.

“Prince Joffrey has found a way to make the lessons less about theory,” Ser Barristan said wryly.

Joffrey grinned at Robert. “I had a woodcarver create wooden soldiers so that we could use them to recreate famous battles.”

Robert’s expression became amused once more before he nodded. “I suppose…”

“But first I want out of these clothes,” Joffrey said with a grimace while he looked down at his wet leather jerkin.

“Probably a good idea,” Robert mused and looked down at himself.

Before he had destroyed Joffrey with a few ‘gentle’ hits, he had used most of his energy against various knights and yeomen that were stationed in the Red Keep.

Since that encounter with an exploring Joffrey, Robert had started to take interest in him, especially after all those glowing reports about his physical lessons. He now joined Joffrey daily on the practice field and had already lost two stone since then. He still whor*d and drank more wine than anyone else in King’s Landing but at least he was occupied and not left maudlin in a dark corner with his only moments of entertainment being expensive tourneys. Robert’s change in routine had another unexpected benefit; the tourneys that had been a fixture during Joffrey’s first few years aware had dwindled to maybe two or three times a year. Lord Jon had scented a chance to reduce the Crown’s debt and instantly began to send all the surplus in the treasury on to the Iron Bank. With Lord Arryn practically leaning over Baelish’s shoulder, the man had no choice but to do everything correctly and in the efficient way with which he had distinguished himself in Gulltown.

Joffrey had been privately amused at Baelish’s predicament – it was rather obvious he wasn’t the least bit happy over this change in the status quo. At least to Joffrey.

Chapter 9 Chapter Text

On my ninth name day, my mother gifted me with one of my most loyal yeomen, Sandor Clegane, better known as the Hound for his fierce nature and unquestioning obedience. He was named my Sworn Sword that day and to his death he fulfilled that position with zealous dedication. While a man of gruff disposition and a rather nasty temper when nettled, it is irrefutable that his gallant and decorous behavior, though perhaps not his words, often outshone that of many anointed knights. Throughout his life, Sandor never strived to attain knighthood, a fact that is owed to the appalling and brutish behavior of his elder brother Ser Gregor Clegane. A beast of eight feet even, who in his youth disfigured Sandor with a grievous injury that burned a third of his face. The Mountain, as he was named in later years, became feared far and wide in Westeros for the rape and murder of Princess Elia Martell Targaryen and the murder of her children during the Sack of King’s Landing at the end of Robert’s Rebellion. To my eternal shame my father afforded the murdered royal members and their grieving family no justice.

I have to confess that during my introduction to my Sworn Sword I felt honest trepidation when I first laid eyes on him, a proven warrior of seven feet who could probably crush me with one hand alone. In later years his hulking shadow became a comfort to me, never far to intercept any attempt on my life.

295 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey was just returning from his lessons with Lord Jon when a commotion down the hallway drew his attention. Lord Brune was shouting –a Lord only in the loosest sense of the word, as the Brunes were hedge knights in their second generation and rather full of themselves. The middle-aged head of the house was one of those courtiers who regularly kissed ass whenever Robert was present. Amusingly, Joffrey was confident the King had no idea who Lord Brune was.

“… don’t make you tell you again you stupid thing, and do as I told you!” he shouted… at Massey.

Who was bracing herself against a wall holding her cheek. Joffrey felt something inside of him go still.

“What is going on here?” he bit out coldly. The courtiers and servants who had been half-heartedly watching the scene went quiet.

Lord Brune turned and paled at the sight of Joffrey with his two guards flanking him.

“My prince! Nothing of note. This stupid servant defied my order, I’m disciplining her.”

“How interesting,” Joffrey said slowly, voice nearly benign. He had learned that from his mother and the servants who were familiar with the Queen paled and averted their eyes. “That you, as a guest of his Grace, see it as your right to discipline a servant of the Red Keep. Especially considering that Massey is not just any lowly servant. She belongs to my household.”

Joffrey hadn’t raised his voice but by now even the last whispers had stopped and people were watching the spectacle with breathless anticipation, knowing that somebody had just run afoul the wrong family.

If possible Lord Brune paled even further, and visibly searching for a way to get himself out of trouble. Joffrey snapped his fingers and Massey, by now used to his non-verbal gestures, curtsied in his direction and then scurried away from Lord Brune and came to a halt some steps beside Joffrey.

Lord Brune was still stuttering justifications but Joffrey had long since stopped paying attention and instead took in the cheek that was slowly swelling and would be blue in the following days.

“Lord Brune,” he finally interrupted the moron.

Said Lord looked green and was sweating by now.

“I do not appreciate the fact that you think you can give orders to one of my personal servants.”

“I… I wasn’t aware, my prince I…”

Joffrey raised an eyebrow in Massey’s direction who inclined her head and said clearly, “I made him aware that I was a personal servant.”

By now she had calmed down and had regained some of her calm.

Joffrey’s eyes wandered back to the now glaring hedge knight.

“She is lying…”

Joffrey’s eyebrow actually rose at the utter gall of the man. “Are you honestly trying to imply that my servants would lie to me. To their crown prince?”

The man was slowly turning beet red now and Joffrey was honestly wondering how many colors Brune would work himself through by the time their conversation ended.

He ignored any backpedaling from the man and continued to speak. “I like it even less when somebody puts their hands on them without consulting me.”

The tension around them was now so thick that Joffrey honestly expected someone, the noble ladies present, to faint from anticipation at any moment.

“How could I have known that she was one of your servants…” Brune was still talking. Why was he still talking?

“Let’s disregard for a moment that she told you. Are you truly incapable of recognizing the stag of the Baratheon house on her belt? Even if Massey had been of one of my uncles’ households, the crest should have made it abundantly clear she was not for you to order around or punish. Be very glad you are a guest under the protection of my father, Lord Brune.”

With that Joffrey turned and left without another word.

Only once he had reached his quarters and sent Massey off to cool her cheek did he calm down enough to realize the implications of his actions. The whole court would know about this incident within an hour, the city by the evening meal. Somebody, and with somebody he meant Varys and Baelish, could see this as an opportunity to either double their efforts to win one of his servants for themselves or use them as leverage against him in some form. He needed to do damage control and quickly.

“Maege?” Joffrey called, mind made up.

He didn’t like it when people were scurrying around him when he was in his own apartments, but having servants at hand was something that he had gotten used to and appreciated by now. So he compromised and had them wait or do tasks in the next room, often with the door ajar so his orders were followed promptly.

“My prince?” the 13-year-old asked after completing a quick curtsey.

“Go to the Queen’s apartments and announce my visit, please.”

“Yes, my prince,” Maege said before she left.

Spreading gossip by way of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting was always quicker than doing it through the normal servants who actually had to fulfill tasks during the day. At the end of the evening everyone in King’s Landing would be aware how very little the crown prince appreciated people taking liberties with his property, which apparently included his household.

295 AC, King’s Landing, royal garden, Joffrey’s name day celebration

The months went by and suddenly Joffrey was nine name days old and the Red Keep celebrated the occasion with a great feast in the royal garden. A favorite location of both the prince and the Queen. Thankfully Joffrey had been able to stop his mother from inviting foreign entertainers from Essos and expand his name day celebrations into a three-day revelry. Instead he had promised her such a celebration for his 13^th name day, the age at which the crown prince was traditionally confirmed in his position as heir to the throne. For now it was a decently-sized feast for King’s Landing with nine courses in his honor.

He received various gifts from the nobles attending but predominantly he was given weapons and horses. The latter was something he actually appreciated while the former were not completely useless either. Between these gifts that had been deemed appropriate for the prince were also various books, two new copies of the Seven-Pointed Star – which he already had eight of, thank you very much – and Sandor Clegane.

Yes. His mother had gifted him with a Sworn Sword. That was probably the compensation for not being able to throw him the feast she thought he deserved. It was most likely also a direct result of hearing rumors about bandits raiding close to Oak Valley Hall. According to Ser Edmure those outlaws hadn’t quite dared to enter his lands yet but it had still left Joffrey in a poor mood and the urge to check on his stud once more was only increasing.

Sandor Clegane was a giant of a man.

Easily seven feet tall and built like a tank with muscles that were bulging under tanned skin and a face that was half destroyed thanks to his older brother. His voice reminded Joffrey of the heavy smokers in Charles’ life. Clegane’s permanent scowl would have been frightening if Joffrey wasn’t aware that the Hound was now his protector and would be most definitely loyal, after all if the Hound had stayed loyal to an ingrate like the book-Joffrey for a very long time, he shouldn’t have any problems at all. The name day celebration was well on its way of turning into a feast of debauchery with all those drunk lord present and the king being at his most lewd, when Joffrey finally called it quits. The Queen had retired an hour earlier when Robert had kissed the first serving wench, returning to Joffrey’s younger siblings. He had stayed a bit longer out of courtesy and to complete one more round around the tables before he too retired, wishing his guests a pleasant evening.

Joffrey had barely left the elevated table his family had sat on when a shadowy figure appeared on his right side. His guards tensed for a moment before they recognized Clegane. The warrior was surprisingly light on his feet for such a massive man.

“Clegane,” Joffrey greeted with a curt nod, “I was just about to collect you. Did you enjoy the feast?”

Clegane grunted and answered with surprising honesty, “the food and wine was alright but the company was poor, bunch of pansies.”

Joffrey surprised himself with snickering. “Where were you seated?”

Clegane shrugged and one of Joffrey’s guards, Hoster Algood answered dryly, “with some of the Queen’s guards and several hedge knights of her retinue.”

Joffrey’s grin widened, he knew who Algood was talking about and was even more amused now, the bunch Clegane was referring to were mostly pretty faces for the Queen to look at than actual protection. His guards at least knew how to fight and Joffrey had established a guard rotation early on, which made it impossible for anyone to skimp out of regular practice. They hadn’t been his choice but for the most part they seemed to be decent at what they were doing.

“Do not worry Clegane, from now on you will be in better company,” Joffrey assured, smiling.

For a long time nothing was said while they made their way across several levels but before they could enter Maegor’s Holdfast one thing occurred to Joffrey.

“Clegane, have your belongings already been transferred to my quarters?”

Clegane grunted, “a handmaiden with a Baratheon crest belt came to me before the feast and oversaw the moving.”

Joffrey nodded absentmindedly at that, it had probably been Massey. Ever since he had publicly protected her she had taken on a lot of the more ‘official’ roles in his household and served as a contact point for servants outside it. For the most part she did good work and made solid decisions even when he wasn’t at hand, the rest she would learn with experience.

“There are some rules that I expect you to obey Clegane. All members in my household are under my protection, if there is a disagreement I expect you to come to me before something is done rashly. I do not condone tardiness or drunkenness while you are on duty, nor do I sanction random acts of violence. Your actions reflect on me as the head of the household and I do not appreciate having my reputation tarnished. But most importantly, keep your mouth shut. Everyone wants to know about my person, I hate it when my privacy is trampled on and there will be unpleasant consequences.”

Clegane nodded once curtly.

“Good, as my Sworn Sword you will accompany me everywhere. You will have free time when I am in my lessons, with my parents, retire to my quarters, or give you the day off. What you do with your free time is your own business but do keep out of significant debt, a Sworn Sword susceptible to bribes is not what I need.”

Another glance at Clegane assured Joffrey that he was listening attentively.

“You are rumored to be one of the most dangerous fighters in Westeros, can I count on you to point out any fighter that proves to be… less than stellar?”

Clegane grunted affirmatively once again before falling quiet.

By now they had reached Joffrey’s apartments, where Massey was waiting, she murmured a short greeting before she took Joffrey’s cloak.

“Clegane, as my Sworn Sword your room is directly across from mine, if you find anything missing or have questions you can approach Massey. Good night.”

“Good night, prince Joffrey,” Clegane answered before he waited until Joffrey had vanished behind his own door.

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Chapter 10 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“I’ll be damned,” Hedda breathed out, wide-eyed.

“Huh?”

“You remember that theory of Dr. Clegane that one of his ancestors was a close confidant of King Joffrey and his family? I think I just found proof of that.”

“Seriously? Great, he is going to be smug for months on end,” Jeyne moaned.

“Is he going to come here?”

“He threatened it at least,” her friend grumbled.

She and Dr. Clegane had a bit of a professional rivalry going on that amused Hedda and a large percentage of their colleagues endlessly. There was even a betting pool on when the two would finally give into their attraction and jump each other. Hedda had a hundred bucks on the next three months so she was a bit personally invested in getting her friend hooked up with the ruggedly handsome historian. Dr. Howard Clegane was a reenactor that took his role seriously and had the muscles of a daily practicing knight to show for it.

Hedda yawned and rubbed her eyes, a glance at the clock made her groan.

“When did we pass midnight?”

“An hour and a half ago, Hedda,” Jeyne said dryly. “You were enraptured in your pages I believe. Ready to find a flat surface?”

Hedda just groaned once again. “I didn’t even think about organizing a hotel room, I just hailed a taxi and came straight from the airport.”

Jeyne raised an eyebrow. “Your luggage?”

“Left it with the porter, do you think someone is still here?”

“Oh I’m sure, the Red Keep has 24/7 patrolling with all that Valyrian steel and treasures from various noble houses present, the insurance was very specific about what they expected in the matter of security. Drove the director nuts the first two times, by now he just sighs and lets them do what they want. We can be damn glad we’re subsidized by both the ministry of culture and the royal house.”

Hedda winced. “A lot of money?”

“An obscene amount, Saddie from accounting once showed me what kind of bills such an exhibition racks up in only six months. You wouldn’t believe the electric bill for the climate-controlled showcases or the filter system for harmful gases and particles from the hidden passages. Did you know that we have three different security companies contracted because the Red Keep is so big that not one of them had enough employees to watch all the monitors at the same time? Let’s just say that I’m damn glad I didn’t become an accountant like my father wanted.”

Hedda yawned again and Jeyne rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s collect your stuff and you can crash in my guestroom.”

“Thanks Jeyne.”

295 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

During his first few weeks at the Red Keep, Clegane took the time to familiarize himself with Joffrey’s schedule and the castle. He always seemed to know where his charge was at any given hour, even when Joffrey decided on a spontaneous change in his plans. The prince suspected a collaboration between his sworn sword and Massey, the two seemed to get along just fine the few times he saw them in the same room.

Starting on the second week in the Red Keep Clegane began to test the guards Joffrey had been given two years ago, as promised. Within three days he had taken over their training and was running the 24 guards in Joffrey’s household into the ground.

“Guard up, you lazy son of a bitch!” Clegane bellowed. “You are protecting the crown prince not the second son of some Lord in Lys, act like it!”

Joffrey had to bite his lip to not start snickering at the expression of the guard in front of Clegane. The prince was sitting under the roofed dais that overlooked the practice field, and was working his way through the assigned book from Maester Arwick while keeping an ear on the men practicing. Clegane had such a mouth on him.

Well into the first month of his sworn sword being part of his household Joffrey had next to no knowledge of what he was truly thinking about him – the Hound had one of the best poker faces he had ever encountered. Rarely did Joffrey find an expression other than blank sullenness on his face, and by now Joffrey had become used to that. The half-destroyed face was becoming familiar, with Clegane always lurking in the corner of Joffrey’s eye, and had lost a lot of its scare value. That didn’t mean Joffrey appreciated the fact that he had no idea what Clegane was thinking when he wasn’t asking directly. At least the Hound didn’t seem to find it necessary to lie to him or sugarcoat an answer, so if he was in need of an accurate description of a situation or person, Joffrey tended to ask Clegane first before anyone else.

And then there were times he would like to launch Clegane to the moon.

Such an occasion was three days after Joffrey’s name day and was the first time the sworn sword witnessed Joffrey’s regular arms training. He kept to the side of the training field but was clearly on hand to interfere should something go awry. Ser Barristan once more drove him into the ground but that was nothing new.

What did surprise Joffrey was when the Hound voluntarily spoke on the way back to the prince’s quarters. “You are a decent fighter for your age… didn’t expect that from a boy prettier than most girls.”

Joffrey felt flattered at the first half and then had the urge to strangle Clegane for the second. He damn well knew he was prettier than most of the noble daughters at court, but Seven Hells, he had seen some of his Lannister cousins thorughout the years and those couldn’t boast with a lot of masculinity in their child years either. In any case he didn’t appreciate it when somebody called attention to that fact.

Instead of an answer he restricted himself to a rather childish kick to Clegane’s shin that elicited a raised eyebrow but nothing else. And Joffrey was definitely not pouting, he was just nursing his wounded male ego.

XXXXXXXXX

It was somewhat astonishing how quickly Clegane became a part of Joffrey’s household and somebody the prince trusted to protect him when he wasn’t paying attention. Only weeks into his employment it felt as if the Hound had always been there. The guards began to defer to him until it was as if he had always been fighting alongside and leading them.

A few months later, during Joffrey’s yearly visit to Oak Hall Valley, Clegane proved that the trust in him wasn’t misplaced. Their traveling party, this time consisting only out of Joffrey’s household, was maybe a day’s journey away from the castle and already on Joffrey’s land when brigands attacked them on a heavily wooded stretch of the road. While most of the guards had to recover from the suddenness of the attack, Clegane had already decapitated two men who charged directly at Joffrey.

Clegane’s dark muttering and insults could be heard over half of the battlefield while he grabbed the reins of Joffrey’s gelding Autumn and pulled him closer to Stranger’s side, fending off those daring bandits who tried to charge the Hound and Joffrey, even after seeing the fate of their comrades. The fight took less than a quarter of an hours in total and then it was over. Most of the brigands, a group of maybe forty men on foot, were on the ground, either dead or dying and the handful who escaped wouldn’t be able to trouble the royal party.

“How many of ours died?” Joffrey asked tonelessly.

He was still staring at the dead bandits on the ground, after all the violence he had already seen in his life he shouldn’t be so shocked about what had just happened. Maybe it was because they were charging at him, trying to kill and rob him, not somebody else. He realized he could have died today if Clegane hadn’t acted so swiftly.

Beside him his Sworn Sword grunted and pulled on Autumn’s reins to lead the prince in the middle of the baggage train. Only once Joffrey had dismounted and four of his guards had stationed themselves around him did Clegane leave to inquire about the casualties.

The target of the attack was clearly the heavy baggage carts in the middle of the train, and it had spectacularly failed because once his guards had recovered from the shock, they had rode most of the brigands down. On their side, three of Joffrey’s guards, six footmen and two Lannister maidservants had died, and there were nine more servants and guards who were slightly injured. None of the bandits had been able to make off with any of Joffrey’s name day horses or did they find an opportunity to grab any of their chests.

All in all, they had been lucky. For a definition of lucky, anyway. Joffrey had their own dead prepared for the remaining journey to Oak Valley Hall, where they would be buried, before sending a small hunting party out to find the last of the brigands. Clegane oversaw the looting of the attackers so that nobody pocketed anything before Joffrey could decide what would happen with it. Then the outlaws were promptly thrown into a ditch some feet away from the street. The wildlife and the elements would take care of their remains within a few weeks. Joffrey couldn’t quite bring himself to care about it – he may have the memories of a world with a rather different moral code but he was a child of Westeros.

The rest of the journey was a somber one, they arrived at the castle just before nightfall, and on the next day their dead were in the ground. Joffrey set part of the loot aside, three of the victims had still family who would receive a share, before distributing the rest among his household. The lion’s share of course went to Clegane and the guards but even the lowest servant and footboy received a few coppers. People mourned for maybe a day and then life went on.

Joffrey himself was so encumbered with work that he couldn’t dwell further on the deaths. In the last few months the first of their yearlings had been sold to various houses and private buyers. The best had been kept back for future breeding purposes and for Joffrey’s own riding pleasure. His breeders were also very happy about the additional animals he had brought along and that Stranger, Clegane’s giant beast of an animal, had been won as stud horse for their mares. It had not taken Joffrey very long to convince his Sworn Sword that this was a good idea, especially after he had seen the amount of money he would gain for every successfully bred mare in Joffrey’s stud.

The surroundings of Oak Valley Hall had changed once more – alongside the new paved road that ran from the castle to the village and beyond, there were more huts inside the village. The smallfolk from around the area, but especially craftsmen had moved closer to the castle in hopes of finding work and increasing their income. As far as Joffrey could see, they were needed, and quite a few parts of the castle’s original buildings were being repaired or newly painted.

Ser Edmure, who had become castellan in truth when Ser Lancaster had passed a fortnight ago, showed Joffrey with no small pride the numbers in his ledgers. They were not breaking even yet but it wasn’t far off either, and in a year or two the horse stud would finally turn a profit.

XXXXXXXXXX

Several days later Joffrey finally had the conversation that he wished to have for a few months now, ever since he remembered about the rabbit’s fast breeding habits and how efficient they were in their feed consumption. They also produced a not inconsiderable amount of fur if they were bred on a certain scale. With winter only a few years away he wanted to have at least a handful of people on hand who knew what they were doing, and could then scale up the production on short notice. Joffrey also found that he liked the taste of the meat, especially with gravy, berry jam, and dumplings.

“… I have acquired a taste for the meat and I would like you to have a stock on hand whenever I am at Oak Valley Hall,” he said to kennel master Henrik, who also organized the hunts in the castle.

“With respect, my prince. That will be nigh impossible, sometimes even my lads can’t sniff out the little buggers… I mean the rabbits,” The kennel master said carefully, aware that nobility didn’t like to be told no.

“I am aware of that. That is why I task you to hunt down several rabbits of both sexes and bring them back alive. I am curious if they are breedable like farm animals and horses.”

“Rabbits, my prince?” the man asked, honestly confused.

“Are you deaf or what?” Clegane growled. “Your prince told you to breed rabbits, so you will breed rabbits or may the Gods have mercy on your soul for I shall not.”

Joffrey snickered for a moment before he took the bite out of Clegane’s threat. “Peace Clegane, this is really not a task for a kennel master,” and to said kennel master he said, “find somebody who is not completely inept with animals, preferably somebody who grew up on a farm or similar, and let them try their luck breeding the animals in the castle. I will reward them should they succeed.”

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Chapter 11 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

The doorbell stopped Hedda from her determined and somewhat desperate search of something edible in Jeyne’s kitchen. Said friend was still grumbling something unintelligible, clutching at her mug of black Yi Ti tea instead of coffee, because that was the only thing that Hedda had found on her quest for nourishment. Jeyne had proven to be completely useless this early in the morning and from her unintelligible mutterings, she concluded that her friend had forgotten to go shopping… for weeks if the state of her larder and fridge was any indication.

Sighing, Hedda stopped her search and made her way to the door, because Jeyne didn’t look like she would move from her chair anytime soon.

“Edwin,” she greeted Jeyne’s assistant surprised. “Good morning, what are you doing here?”

Wordlessly he held up a brown bag and a paper cup holder with what smelled like coffee.

“I am here to appease the dragon,” he said solemnly.

Hedda’s lips twitched because that was an apt description of an uncaffeinated Jeyne. Already she could hear the beast in the kitchen roar for her tribute.

“I take this happens often?” Hedda asked dryly, stepping aside to let the man in.

“Only during big discoveries or projects… so every other month,” Edwin said mildly. “I’m also here to drive you to the Red Keep.”

“I applaud you for your courage and forethought,” Hedda laughed.

XXXXXXXXX

When they finally had made it back to the museum, a call from the porter informed them that Doctors Erenford and Redwyne had arrived and were asking for them.

“Just great,” Hedda murmured, swallowing the last of her coffee to fortify herself against the Barbie-doll of their field.

Jocelyn Erenford was of one of the many side branches of the Erenford family of the Riverlands and came from old money. Unfortunately, old money didn’t always mean genteel manners these days, and Jocelyn was such an example. She was a bleach-blonde blue-eyed bimbo with a frankly disgusting amount of plastic surgery and a grating voice that made Hedda want to claw her ears off. She also had absolutely no sense of when she was spouting nonsense. Hedda honestly had no idea how she had gotten her qualifications. One thing though she had to admire Jocelyn for, she always seemed to know what kind of projects would attract the attention of the media, and she somehow always found her way onto the front-page photo.

“Dr. Barath, Dr. Marsha!” the jovial voice of Tywin Redwyne sounded from their left.

Hedda turned around and smiled at the man – Dr. Redwyne was a bearded red-head in his late forties and was considered a bit eccentric in their field because of certain hypotheses, but the articles he published in various scientific journals were always based on proven facts and reputable sources. He also was rather fun during End of the Year celebrations; his mother was a Mormont of the Mormonts of Bear Island, and he regularly told stories and explained old traditions of the North and Beyond-the-Wall. His primary field was medieval furniture and tapestries oddly enough, with a side interest in castle architecture and medieval trade.

“Dr. Redwyne,” she greeted back with a smile before she nodded and said tightly, “Dr. Erenford.”

“Dr. Barath,” the stupid bint simpered, “I hear you are the primary translator? However did you receive the job?”

“Probably because she is the best medieval translator this side of the Narrow Sea?” Jeyne said with a snort. “Are you coming? Hedda was just about to continue. She already translated several pages.”

“Really?” Dr. Redwyne said, delighted. “Anything interesting?”

Jeyne laughed and said, “like you wouldn’t believe.”

XXXXXXXXX

“Ha! Oh the old codgers at the Citadel won’t like that. They won’t like that at all,” Tywin Redwyne laughed gleefully.

“Hhm?” Hedda asked half-interested. She was reading her auxiliary materials and the references her assistant had sent her.

“The sentence about the so honored Maesters of Oldtown changing history to suit a certain political faction,” Redwyne explained.

“We know that, everyone knows that,” Jeyne said with an eye roll.

“Yes, but now we have proof that even 1500 years ago the people knew. Seven Hells, the King knew and didn’t condone it. Neutral observer of history and protector of knowledge for centuries, as if!”

“Admit it, Tywin. You are still cross with them because they didn’t recognize your theory about Harrenhal.”

Tywin harrumphed and pulled a grimace before muttering, “I still think that there is a possibility…”

“Look,” Hedda said soothingly, “you are basing that theory on several accounts about the time around King Joffrey. If your assumptions are true, there had to be a pretty big scandal involved. With any luck we will find clues in the next few pages.”

Tywin looked for a moment as if he wanted to reply before he simply closed his mouth and nodded.

At the age of ten name days, I received permission from my father to learn about navigating the sea and commanding ships under my other uncle for a few months. Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone was a dour man with no sense of humor or charisma, and while he was a lawful and dutiful man, he didn’t seem to grasp the concept of mercy or moderation. But what my uncle lacked in social skills he more than made up for with his military prowess. As a son of the former Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Lord Stannis was an accomplished warrior, though his skills on the battlefield though were eclipsed by his skills as a commander and ship captain. Lord Stannis Baratheon seemed to have the uncanny ability to know what his enemy would do and how far he could push his troops to counter that. During the time I spent in his care I learned everything from the ground up, for the first two weeks I shared duties with his cabin boy to get a feel of his ship, the Fury, and to learn how to tell apart the different lines and ropes. There were no shortcuts with Stannis and I had to put more effort into my education than ever before in my life. At the time it felt like it was the hardest year of my life, but I never forgot a single lesson he taught me.

295 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“You will have to take on new guards soon, my prince,” Clegane said out of the blue after weapons practice. “Your household is currently fifty strong and that without additional servants for transportation. To have only eight knights and fourteen sergeant-class guards is dangerous business, especially for a prince. At least add an additional twelve yeomen with long-range weapons to your retinue, perferably men well-versed in the crossbow.”

Joffrey looked up, still breathing hard from all the running he had done today.

“I know… it is just that I can’t be certain of the men in King’s Landing. You have seen how quickly people here take bribes.”

“Then get guards someplace else,” Clegane grunted.

Joffrey looked at him dryly. “And how? I can’t just ride in the next big city and hire some sellswords.”

“Maybe not, but you are the prince. There should be enough second and third sons that would give an arm to be close to you.”

Joffrey lifted his head at this, thoughtful. “I have never seen anything other than the crownlands. For a noble I am too young for a Lord’s progress like uncle Renly did but… I’m the crown prince. There should be reason enough to tour the seven kingdoms.”

“Maybe not Dorne,” Clegane grunted.

Joffrey snorted. “Definitely not. If I’m lucky I’d survive maybe three days past their borders and then die in an unfortunate accident. No, but if I visit the northern parts of Westeros and in a few years tour the South… hmm. I have to contemplate this.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. It would also give Joffrey a chance to visit the Starks without Lord Jon dying. He was rather curious about the family by now. Not only because of the books but also because of all the stories Robert had told him about Ned and the Vale knights.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two weeks after this conversation Lord Stannis arrived at King’s Landing. Joffrey hadn’t seen his other uncle for years, often missing him because of his travel or because Stannis had the habit of not lingering in the capital for longer than he had to.

He encountered his uncle on the way to the Small Council chamber. Lord Jon had agreed to Joffrey sitting in on them every few months to get a feeling for the political game played there.

“Lord Stannis… uncle,” Joffrey greeted after a moment of surprise. “Good day to you. I wasn’t aware that you were able to attend this meeting.”

Stannis’ dour look wandered to Joffrey and he nodded curtly back. “Nephew,” he said, and added as explanation, “there has been word of Westerosi being forced into slavery along the coastline.”

Joffrey’s pleasant smile vanished at that news, even though he appreciated Stannis’ straight to the point approach. “Which? East or West?”

“Both,” Stannis bit out, clearly insulted at the mere idea of that happening in his domain.

Joffrey just nodded and kept silent, not versed with the patrol routes and actions the royal navy took in such cases – he had nothing to add to the conversation. Another deficiency, now that he thought of it. Joffrey sent a covert glance at Stannis while they made their way to the Small Council chamber, as far he was aware there was no man more proficient in matters of sea-faring war than the Master of Ships, there had to be a way to learn from Stannis.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Convincing Robert to let him learn under Stannis for a few months had been hard. Harder than Joffrey had expected, after all Stannis was Robert’s brother even with their clearly incompatible characters. Later on it occurred Joffrey that it wasn’t so much a slight against Stannis as his preferred mode of transportation. Robert had watched his own parents drown just in sight of Storm’s End years ago and ever since preferred travel by land. It would not be inconceivable that he was worried about losing Joffrey to the same fate, especially now he was finally building a relationship with his oldest son and they were spending more time together. But the same newfound affection was likely what made Robert consent, in the end.

Stannis, when informed, had agreed to the fostering on one condition. Joffrey had to leave most of his household at King’s Landing. So, the only people that ended up accompanying him were Clegane and Maege. Joffrey had contemplated about taking Massey with him instead, but the 18-year-old had grown into her leader position and would be able to keep his reduced household in line. Joffrey, as soon as he had received permission, had decided to dissolve most of his household and let the servants rejoin his parents’ retinues. There was little sense in keeping on servants when he had no use for them, and it also provided Joffrey an excuse to replace servants he wasn’t quite sure of without much suspicion.

So with Joffrey out of the capital he sent Massey, Mab and his twenty-two personal guards to Oak Valley Hall. Ser Edmure could use the additional help, especially with about a dozen of Stranger’s progenies soon to be born and the warhorse himself on the stud.

By now he was quite sure of the men who were protecting him, but Joffrey was not so careless to give Varys or Littlefinger the chance of subverting somebody in his retinue while he was out of reach. He gave Massey the task to start looking for additional people around Oak Valley Hall to fill the positions that would be open once he returned. Only to look though, in most cases. He gave her leave to select the positions of the common servants, footmen and washer women, which would only begin their employment once he had returned.

For the more specialized and prestigious roles in his household he sought the advice of the one man who outwitted the rest of Joffrey’s family with ease.

Beta'd by Lyova

Chapter 12 Summary:

So... I'm not dead, but live has been busy and this pandemic hasn't really changed that.
I have decided to post the chapters that I have finished in a weekly rhythm until I have run out and hopefully get more inspiration for the story. :)
Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

With another expert in medieval history present, the assembly of other sources became quicker, and Hedda wasn’t interrupted every ten minutes to help understand this or that abbreviation in the citation notes. Dr. Redwyne was also kind enough to begin with the assembly of the timeline along the long magnetic wall on the left side. It would hopefully ease both the translation and interpretation of the Journal. Until now everything had sounded believable but Hedda knew from countless documents and letters and inventory lists that what had really happened was always a thing of perception for the individual.

Whilst I spent the following months on sea, learning the seafaring craft that my Baratheon uncle had made his own, another uncle, this time a Lannister, handled a task of utmost importance for my own person. He was sieving through the throngs of people suitable for various positions in my household. The court, I had learned rather quickly, was an ever-turning maelstrom that would pull you under within moments if you stopped paying attention for just a fraction of a second. Courtiers also, no matter how loyal, craved knowledge of the on-goings of their royal family. Spies were not a rarity and I came to thoroughly despise the invasion of my privacy in my early years in the Red Keep. With my absence, this was a prime opportunity for busybodies to convert and bribe members of my household. To prevent this, I released most of the staff I had held until now, and tasked Massey with finding replacements in Oak Valley Hall and its surroundings. The more prestigious positions I left to a man whose wit was rarely surpassed in these days. My uncle, Tyrion Lannister. Or as many called him so callously, the imp.

295 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey found the younger of his two Lannister uncles where he expected him to be. In his rooms with two whor*s.

Tyrion Lannister was probably the smartest person Joffrey had ever encountered in this life, also the most cynical. Though that was not so surprising, considering the circ*mstances of his birth.

For years, Cersei had done her best to keep Joffrey from ever crossing paths with Tyrion until Ser Jaime finally found an afternoon on which the Queen was distracted, and he abducted Joffrey from his lessons to introduce him to his younger brother.

It had been a rather pleasant if vulgar afternoon while the Lannister brothers regaled him with stories and small adventures. Joffrey learned more about the politics in the Westerlands from several of Tyrion’s snide comments than in the months Master Devan had discussed the lands of his Lannister grandfather. That afternoon had followed a few similar encounters, more often than not facilitated by Jaime, who clearly knew the schedule of the Queen by heart, and quite a few times Joffrey encountered whor*s who were just leaving.

That didn’t mean that he was indifferent to the sight of his uncle, half naked with two naked whor*s. Joffrey hastily avoided looking at the bed and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“May I have a word, uncle?”

“Nephew…” Tyrion drawled out, clearly not happy about the interruption before he sighed and turned to the girls. “Well, you heard the prince, off with you.”

The women giggled and sauntered naked across the room where their clothes were before leaving with lascivious grins at both Tyrion and a somewhat uncomfortable Joffrey.

Once the door had closed behind them Tyrion’s amused expression dropped and he raised an eyebrow in Joffrey’s direction.

“Well?”

“I need advice,” Joffrey admitted.

Now Tyrion sat up and looked serious at Joffrey. “What kind of advice?”

“I convinced father to let me foster with uncle Stannis for a few months.”

Tyrion choked at that. “You did what? Are you out of your mind, boy? Stannis has his seat on Dragonstone, a cold dreary and miserable place in the middle of the sea. And you want to foster there?”

“I rather doubt that we will be long at the castle, uncle is obvious in his disdain for it. I imagine we will be on sea for most of the time, which is fortunate because it’s the sea and the royal navy that I wish to know.”

“Can’t you learn this from the Maesters?” Tyrion complained.

Joffrey just raised an eyebrow at the statement and waited.

Tyrion sighed. “Yes, yes. Hands on and all of that tripe that you tall people prefer.”

Joffrey snorted. “You know just as well that I have no objection to a good read. The problem with the books is that I found them not always quite accurate. I would rather learn about this topic only once. Also, I have nary seen my uncle since the day we have been introduced. I would like to know his mettle.”

Tyrion swallowed wrongly and sprayed his watered wine over the stone floor while he gave into helpless mirth. “He reflects his seat rather well, nephew. Just as dreary and miserable, not an ounce of humor in his body. I guarantee you, you will not enjoy your stay.”

“That may be so, but he is also one of the most competent commanders my father has. He has always accomplished what he had been tasked with, no matter how impossible it seemed.”

“Only with the Targaryens he failed,” Tyrion said wryly.

Joffrey rolled his eyes. “I do not know what father was thinking to punish Lord Stannis for the simple fact the Targaryens had already left the island before he and the fleet arrived. It does not make sense.”

Tyrion looked at him and sighed deeply. “Sometimes I truly wonder how a man like your father and a woman like your mother achieved you.”

“Uncle, careful there. We are still in the Red Keep.”

Tyrion sent him a glance before he gestured at the room at large. “Why do you think I insist on these lodgings here instead of the ones closer to Maegor’s Holdfast, as is my right as the Queen’s brother? Certainly not because of the side entrance for the whor*s. Although that was a rather pleasant coincidence. No, this is one of the rooms that has no little holes for anyone to spy on me and the walls are thick enough that nobody will hear us, not even if they listen at the door.”

Joffrey nodded at that tidbit of information and gladly took the glass of lemon water his uncle handed him.

“So if you are determined to go through with this fostering, what do you need my assistance for?”

Chapter 13 Summary:

Hi guys, so just for clarification why I posted this chapter again. Apparently I copied chapter 12 into the space by accident. Have fun!

Chapter Text

Once Lord Stannis had ascertained himself that I wouldn’t act rashly or prove myself as a nuisance we made for more open waters. For that however, we had to anchor at one more isle before leaving the Blackwater Bay.

Dragonstone.

The most important holding of the previous dynasty and the island that my uncle now called his own. A place that left a lasting impression on me for all the wrong reasons. It became quickly apparent why my Lord uncle preferred to travel the vast sea instead of ruling from his seat. A barren island with strong winds, a castle picked straight out of nightmares and a wife on the cusps of madness were not incentives that anchored a man to his home. Why my uncle continued to return to this rock when he could have occupied a home in King’s Landing was a mystery that only solved itself with time. In the end it was rather simple, Stannis Baratheon returned out of duty and for my cousin, Shireen.

A sad little girl when I first met her, barely a year older than my own sister and already disfigured by greyscale. Not that this restricted her intelligence, from all my relatives on both sides, Shireen would become one of the brighter ones in the coming years and unlike her father, she understood that sometimes one had to compromise to reach a conclusion.

Dragonstone was also the place where my Lord uncle put a clever diversion into effect that ensured anonymity like I had never experienced in my life up until that point and never did again.

295 AC, Blackwater Bay

On Joffrey’s fifteenth day on board things slowly began to improve, he wasn’t as exhausted anymore when he fell into his hammock at night and by day twenty-seven he actually began to enjoy himself.

By now the Fury had completed its patrol route around the Blackwater Bay and in Stannis’ words, he (Stannis) was now certain that the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms wouldn’t go overboard in a fit of carelessness or ignorance. Which meant that the Fury was on its way into more open waters, but before they could leave the Blackwater Bay behind, there was one last port to visit.

Dragonstone.

The island was just as forbidding as everyone always described it. Even on the sunny and clear day at which they arrived the castle of black stone with its many statues of dragons and magical creatures radiated a menacing aura that made Joffrey’s neck prickle. It was as if somebody was watching him out of hundred cold, cruel eyes. The scraggy stones around him did not make it any better, there were only a few patches of dried out grass between the cliffs and the wind was making horrible howling noises when it blew in the right direction. All in all, not a very comforting experience. Joffrey couldn’t imagine growing up in this bleak place. Poor Shireen.

Their reception at the castle itself was just as lackluster as the surroundings. Lady Seylse Baratheon, his aunt by marriage was not a good-looking woman, but that, so Joffrey thought privately, had more to do with her permanently pinched expression that made her look like she was smelling something disgusting, then her features. In contrast Shireen, who had inherited the Florent-ears from her mother, looked with her shy smile and curious eyes sweet and approachable. Even with her greyscale. And yes, GRRM description of Shireen was much closer to reality than the Shireen that was portrayed by the TV-series, a vast percentage of the illness covered one side of her face and neck.

“My family. Lady Seylse Baratheon and my daughter Shireen.” Stannis stated curtly.

Joffrey bowed accordingly to their ranks, “Lady Baratheon, Lady Shireen. A pleasure.” he greeted them courteously as he has been taught.

“Prince Joffrey,” Seylse said with a sniff but obligingly curtsied, quickly followed by her daughter, “welcome to Dragonstone.” Before she fell silent again.

Awkward. Joffrey felt a little bit out of place, as a prince and heir to the Iron Throne he had always been afforded at least cordiality. Everyone was aware of his social rank and behaved accordingly, to now be confronted by a woman who was clearly not all that impressed by his presence, who was his aunt at that… well, it was disconcerting.

Dinner was just as painful, the conversation quickly ceased after an initial few comments, and Joffrey felt horrible out of place. This was not the companionable and relaxing atmosphere he had come appreciate when he ate with Stannis in his cabin, or the few family dinners his own family had now and then. During those times, Cersei and Robert focused their attention on Joffrey and his siblings and kept civil for their sake, even when they did not get along and had nothing to say to each other otherwise.

This was just… excruciating. Poor Shireen.

The only way this evening could have gone worse was an encounter with Melisandre, but at least he was spared that. Either the red priestess hadn’t worked herself into Selyse’s confidence yet, or she wasn’t present for some reason. Joffrey could life with that.

The uncomfortable visit of Dragonstone was thankfully over rather quickly, but not before Joffrey found an opportunity to commission dragonglass knives. Shireen had been showing him the castle when they passed a wall display with various weapons made out what Joffrey suspected was dragonglass.

“Lady Shireen? May I inquire what kind of material these weapons are made from? I have never seen anything alike.”

His little six-year-old cousin stopped in her tracks and looked over to the weapons Joffrey was pointing out.

“Oh… these are made from dragonglass. It is mined here on the island.” She said after a moment of contemplation.

“Mined, you say? It is a stone?” Joffrey prompted her.

Shireen shrugged her shoulders, clearly not knowing much about this topic.

Curious about the fabled material Joffrey stepped closer and after a moment of hesitation touched it. It was curiously smooth and strangely warm. It had similarities to the obsidian he knew from Charles’ life but… he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than the stone from Earth.

“I wouldn’t bother with it.” Clegane grunted behind him, “It’s sharper than a steel blade, sure but one blow from an opponent and it shatters in thousand pieces.”

“So not a knife meant for battle then.” Joffrey hummed, still fingering the smooth surface, “A dressing knife then? For hunts.”

Clegane shrugged his shoulders.

That evening Joffrey brought up the topic with his uncle after they had consulted the maps about their sailing route. Stannis had stared uncomprehendingly at him but agreed to introduce him to the few craftsmen that still practiced cutting dragonglass. They did not have a lot of business in the last decades and so many had turned their back on the old craft. Which meant that the price for a dragonglass dagger had dropped by more than half, now only costing slightly more than a castle forged dagger of the same size.
After a short introduction the following morning, Stannis left him and Clegane to take care of other duties and prepare his ship for their journey. It was just as well, Joffrey was rather curious about the differences between dragonglass and a normal steel blade and so insisted on several demonstrations. He had no doubt Stannis would have become impatient if he had stayed any longer.

Joffrey inspected the two cuts side by side, one done by dragonglass and the other by his own dagger. The dragonglass cut was visibly cleaner and thinner, he had barely needed to use any force to penetrate through the pig skin and the edge was perfect.

“I see what you mean.” He finally said to the master craftsman that had urged him to test the difference himself, “They may not be able to catch another dagger reliably but there are enough other usages for such a fine cutting edge.”

Joffrey looked up at the craftsman in his late forties who had presented several different blade types for inspection while casually handing over the dragonglass dagger to Clegane.

“What do you think?”

Clegane weighted the knife in his hand before quickly slicing through the pig skin himself.

“Not bad.” He grunted after a moment of thoughtful silence, “Flashy though.”

Joffrey snorted. Ah yes, Clegane and his distaste for anything over the top or ‘girly’.

He then turned his attention back to the craftsman, “I will commission a hundred of the plain knives for the use of my household and about… hhm let’s say forty ceremonial daggers with the same pattern as the dagger furthest to the left, ten of which I want my personal crest stamped into the handle on both sides. Depending on how useful they turn out to be I will commission more.”

The craftsman bowed deeply, clearly not believing his luck. This must be the biggest order he received in the last ten years.

“How long will this take?”

“Seven moons at least, my prince.” The man said nervously.

Joffrey nodded thoughtfully, “I do not know what my lord uncle has planned for my fostering so I cannot be certain that I will be on Dragonstone when you are finished. Name your price.”

The craftsmen stuttered out the price for one knife and one ceremonial dagger.

Joffrey nodded and absentminded added the numbers in his head, “So this will cost just under 200 gold dragons? Let’s make it a full sum then. I will instruct the castellan on Dragonstone to set aside the sum you are owed. Once the blades are finished have them brought up to the castle and you will receive your payment.”

The craftsman bowed with a stuttered thanks and packed away his blades with shaking hands. Joffrey made a mental note to commission more before he returned to King’s Landing. They would come in handy should the Others cross the Wall.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Only two days later they set sail again, this time to brave the open waters of the Narrow Sea in direction of the North. Since Jorah Mormont had been caught selling slaves the patrols and spot checks along the coast had been increased by Stannis, especially along the merchant routes.

Dragonstone was barely out of sight when a ship about the same size as the Fury came in sight and they changed their course in its direction.

Curious Joffrey climbed up the dais to where his uncle stood and stared in confusion at him. Stannis ignored him while he gave orders to bind the ships together, so he waited patiently until his uncle finally acknowledged him with a curt hand gesture.

“Uncle? Why…”

“Every spy in Dragonstone knows that the crown prince left on board of the Fury. My flagship will continue to sail around Blackwater Bay for the coming months, avoiding bigger ports and serving as diversion for anyone meaning you ill. We will continue our patrol on the Wraith, the ship Dale Seaworth is commanding for me.”

Joffrey felt his eyes widen before he nodded slowly and then grinned, delighted by that piece of information.

“Am I to receive a new name during our time incognito?”

Stannis paused, visibly considering before he said, “Jof. That should be close enough. Now go, pack together your belongings.”

Joffrey laughed and obeyed.

In the following hour while supplies and personal belongings were transferred Joffrey collected all the clothes that revealed his station and House and placed them on the bottom of his chest. At the moment he wore a simple, if well fitted leather jerkin with no house sigil or embroidery. He had commissioned it on Dragonstone, taking inspiration from the simpler clothes that Stannis himself favored while sailing. Likewise, his uncle had also removed his house sigil and usual armor and was instead in serviceable chain mail that was partially hidden by an overcoat.
The only sign that the ship and crew belonged to the Baratheon fleet was the black stag on top of the main sail and the antlers on the bow of the ship.

“Did our route also change, uncle?” Joffrey asked once they had left the Fury behind and were well on their way.

“No. Now return to your post, I will not have you shirk your duties.”

Joffrey couldn’t suppress the grin that spread over his lips while he made his way to the back of the ship. Fostering with Stannis held more adventure in store than he had ever expected!

Chapter 14 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Hedda stretched and rubbed her eyes, they were burning from all the squinting and concentrating and she was developing a bit of a headache.

“Do you want to take a break?” Jeyne asked, “Give your head a bit of a rest?”

“Probably a good idea.” Hedda admitted.

“We could take a walk through the castle. You haven’t been here since the exhibition about the court wear through the ages, right?”

Hedda hummed in agreement. Now that Jeyne had brought attention to it, her head was buzzing somewhat awful, and so she let Jeyne lead her out of the well-lit conference room they were using for the translation.

While they walked through the modern part of the museum complex they were silent, it was a comfortable silence that neither of them wanted to break.

Their path led them to the glass elevator that had been built adjacent to the old guard tower and soon they stepped out on the walking platform that many guards had patrolled on throughout the centuries. It was a slightly overcast day, not quite windy but Hedda definitely felt the breeze while they slowly ambled along the battlements. It was soothing, nearly meditative and Hedda felt how her muscles relaxed and the throbbing behind her forehead slowly eased.

“Thanks.” She murmured quietly at Jeyne.

“You needed it.” Her friend said softly before the two of them came to a stop. Underneath them the port and the open water of Blackwater Bay stretched out.

They stood there for a few minutes while the tourists walked by them, parents holding their children tight at their hands and young and old couples slowly ambling along, enjoying the view. Hedda caught herself thinking about what Joffrey would have thought about all the people coming year-in year-out to see how he and his descendants had lived and ruled over Westeros.

Would he have been intrigued about the concept, or horrified?

Hedda sighed, and stretched her arms over her head, her eyes than wandered further inland.

The new Baratheon Palace was right across the Blackwater Rush, overseeing the port not unlike the Red Keep. Though unlike it, the new Palace was a baroque building that was surrounded by a large park the size of medieval King’s Landing.

Hedda stared somewhat lost in her thoughts at all that pomp and circ*mstance that had taken 32 years to be completed. It had nearly bankrupted the kingdom when King Balerion decided to create the palace. It was a homage to one of the most narcistic kings Westeros had ever seen on the throne right at the beginning of the 15^th century. His nephew, who followed him on the throne, fought most of his life to right the skewed finances King Balerion had incurred and King’s Landing was in an constant state of unrest for nearly a decade before the population backed down from the brink of a civil war. As a result the king and all his successors lost a lot of power. The Congress, the organization that had evolved from the Small Council, wielded a lot more power from then on. It was meant as a failsafe to keep the King in check and ensure that the realm still flourished, even if the king was not able to fulfill his duties to an acceptable degree. It was also the starting point for the change of the monarchy into a constitutional monarchy.
It took another century until the Congress had more say in the running of the country than the monarch but Hedda wouldn’t change that for the world. The royal family had its place in their society, as did the nobility, but it was a decorative one, and in Hedda’s opinion that was for the best for both them and the country.

With one last glance over the elaborate and colorful flowerbeds that formed complex designs she turned to her friend, “I think I can continue now.”

Jeyne, who had leaned against the battlement and stared down at the courtyard below hummed in acknowledgement before pushing herself off and following Hedda back down the way they had come.

Lord Stannis conducted a ship change the moment we were out of sight of Dragonstone. The Fury was abandoned for the Wraith, another war galley of similar design that was usually commanded by Dale Seaworth, Davos Seaworth’s son and a trusted if young commander of my lord uncle’s. From here on we were travelling incognito to ensure my safety.

In the months that I spent in Lord Stannis care we visited more than two scores of ports. Places so different from the Crownlands with many new wonders for me to discover that the few days we anchored there were not nearly enough to sate my curiosity. Clegane was as always, faithfully at my side when I chose to explore these new places. My maid servant Maege mostly stayed on board, uneasy of the destinations and people we visited, though even she became more adventurous with time, haggling in markets for fabrics and other necessities.

Even now at the evening of my life I think back fondly on the days I climbed like a monkey from rig to rig, ever higher. I Scrubbed the deck alongside the other sailors, learned how to read the weather and the sea and was taught the bare basics of navigating by the sun and stars.
These days I know that it was the worst sort of foolishness on both my uncle’s and my own side to allow this kind of education. One bad fall from a rig would have robbed Westeros of its crown prince and probably cost Lord Stannis his head. Robert Baratheon was not a man who would have been able to react rationally in such a situation. But alas, I was fortunate enough to escape such a fate and finished my fostering unmolested.

295 AC, Westeros’ coastline, Fury

In the following months while they slowly made their way along the coast of Westeros Joffrey watched more than once as his uncle boarded ships and inspected the bilge for human wares.

Every five to ten days they anchored in a port to resupply and for Stannis to send messages to Dragonstone. There was a lot more to his position as master of ships than the title revealed at first. The sheer amount of paperwork without the actual paperwork was astonishing. Stannis checked the various sea routes for changes in conditions, noted pirate sightings and possible problems concerning this or that port and redirected the patrol routes of the royal warships to potential hotbeds. And he memorized all of that mostly without writing it down until he found a suitable port with ravens to his seat. From there on information was only passed on to King’s Landing when it was absolutely necessary. Stannis had an ingrained dislike for the capital and all its spies and Joffrey could only agree with his precautions, it was probably also the reason why their weren’t more people lining their pockets with gold that didn’t belong to them.

As an exercise, Joffrey tried to remember as many details about a port as possible and only write it down days later. It was rather difficult and much was lost, but Joffrey did notice that constant practice did increase his memory and observation skills.

Traveling by ship had both his up and downsides, Joffrey appreciated the sheer speed and smoothness a traveling war galley developed on the open sea when the weather was favorable. There was no real stink either, the wind blew it away before it could offend the nose.
On the other hand potable water was precious, so washing had to be done with seawater and that quickly led to painful inflammation of even the smallest cut. Which meant that most of the sailors did not bathe most of the time. Joffrey himself had to get used to the fact that he could not bathe regularly, except the occasional swim in the sea when they anchored close to the shore line. It certainly didn’t make him happy, but with all the other new tasks that now filled his daily routine Joffrey found it necessary to use wet rags and small amounts of soap for his daily hygiene.

The hard physical labor combined with the unforgiving sun that was additionally reflected from the water ensured that within weeks of leaving King’s Landing Joffrey was hardly recognizable. He had shot up another two inches and looked even more gangly than before, his muscles and bones clearly visible under his tightly stretched skin. He was also constantly hungry and from the way his minders and the ship cook presented him with snacks and meals in regular intervals, he looked the part. Joffrey knew that undernourishment as a child would stunt his growth, not something that he intended to let happen and so he ate every snack presented to him and then some.
His hair was now a mess of partially sun bleached white-blonde curls and darker roots with gold reflexes that were coming through and his skin had taken on a dark brown nearly bronze color that was not too dissimilar from Stannis own tan. In short, his physical changes were so pronounced that it served as a disguise in and on itself. He was sure that not even the regular courtiers in King’s Landing would recognize him like that.

Being aware of the danger that too much exposure to the sun could mean to his skin, Joffrey took some precautions. To mitigate the sun damage he made sure to apply a generous amount of thick almond oil and beewax cream that his mother had insisted he took ample amount with him once she learned he would spend a significant part of his fostering close to the sea. It was a special mixture the ladies of the Lannister family used during the summer at Casterly Rock and Lannisport. She was not wrong, it helped with minimizing sunburn and later on kept his skin subtle and well moisturized even while exposed to the harsh elements on deck of the Wraith. His uncle and Sworn Sword might scoff at the notion of regularly applying creams but Joffrey was not so foolish to dismiss his mother’s advice on that topic. She was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women in Westeros and clearly planned to stay it for a very long time, a strict diet and a variety of creams and lotions were part of her daily régime. At any case, it reduced the amount of sunburn he was exposed to and that alone was worth the application.

Between all the seafaring lessons Stannis also ensured that he had ample time to practice his sword and language skills.

“You are not neglecting your other lessons in favor of learning how to command a ship.” Stannis had bitten out one evening after the first week they had traveled on the Wraith.

And so Joffrey found himself often conversing in either high Valyrian or the dialects of Braavos, Pentos and Lys with his uncle or the sailors that used said languages regularly in various ports.
His normal sword training was also added to his daily regime. It took both Sandor and him some time to get used to the moving ground underneath their feet but once they had found their feet they were off chasing each other across the deck… well Sandor chased Joffrey.

Another part of his education that he really liked was listening to sailors recounting old sea battles. Quite a few that now traveled on his uncle’s ship had also sailed with him during the Greyjoy rebellion in 289 AC, the year in which Joffrey had ‘woken’.
His uncle never boasted about his victories other than pointing out the fatal mistakes that were made on both sides of the conflict, but Ser Seaworth and the 2^nd Mate, Ser Manfred Wylde, made up for his uncle’s silence in regaling Joffrey of the battles and skirmishes they had experienced under the command of Lord Stannis.

Like this the months flew by on the sea, regularly interrupted through port cities big and small. Twice they also revisited Dragonstone and made additional ship changes. It gave Joffrey the opportunity to learn about different types of ships. At the end of his fostering he had served on four different war galleys and various smaller types of ships that his uncle used to navigate the various island in Shipbreaker Bay and along the east coast of Westeros.

If he was honest with himself Joffrey could have easily lost himself in this type of life. Alas it wasn’t to be.

Chapter 15 Chapter Text

With my fostering coming to an end we had one last journey planned. My uncle intended to take me across the Narrow Sea to Essos. The name of the continent alone had filled me with excitement when my uncle discussed the route with me. Under normal circ*mstances, as crown prince of Westeros, I would have never found an opportunity to visit places this far away from my father’s seat of power. Or at least it would have involved far more time, effort and political drama.

I had come to find that traveling under a false name and banner was by far preferable to my true station. This last trip in my uncle’s care opened my eyes to a whole new world. I saw foreign customs and practices that were strange to me but were not the actions of savages as the Citadel and Most Devout decried them to be, just different. One must only look at the delicate and well thought-out construction of the Braavosian’ canals or the colorful tiled roofs and floors of Pentos to realize that their cultures are full of wonders.

From Pentos we crossed the Narrow Sea once more and undertook one last ship change just off the coast of Westeros. We once again were sailing on the Fury under Baratheon flag and doing away with our disguises.

From there on we made our way to the Parchments, seat of House Penrose.

The journey was more arduous then the outward one, we were caught in two separate bad bouts of weather within a week. As a result our stay at the Parchments was close to two weeks while the sails were repaired and the ship resupplied, a rather uncommonly long stay for my Lord uncle.

Even when not incognito Lord Stannis generally declined the invitation of the various noble Houses, not seeing any sense in delaying his duty to the realm. I couldn’t help but recognize that with this habit he did a disservice to his own person and standing with the noble Houses that had made their home along the coastline.

I can’t help but feel that this kind of behavior was in large parts responsible that my uncle never had many allies among his peers.

295 AC, Blackwater Bay

Joffrey stared up at the imposing walls of Dragonstone while they made their way up to the castle. It would be the second to last time they docked here during his fostering, soon he would return to King’s Landing.

Absentminded he pulled a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, securing it there for the moment. Joffrey had taken to bind his shoulder long hair in a ponytail or a high bun at the back of his head. He rather liked the hairstyle, it kept his head of curls well under control and out of his eyes.

It took them less than twenty minutes to fully dock and anchor the Fury in the port before they were climbing the stairs up to his uncle’s seat.

Just like the last few times Stannis and he were greeted by a grim-faced Seylse and a shyly smiling Shireen. After the first formalities were out of the way and Joffrey used the occasion to take a luxurious bath. He relaxed in the hot water after cleaning off the filth with rags and soap to not spoil his first proper bath in weeks. His muscles relaxed and he couldn’t suppress a contented groan. He dozed for some time before heaving himself out of the water and reapplying the almond cream generously. His mother had sent regular shipments along with letters with further advise on selfcare. Some of which he followed, though most of it was in his eyes unnecessary. He certainly wouldn’t bath in milk and honey on the regular.

Once he had ascertained that most of the oily cream had soaked into his skin he dressed for dinner and then made his way to the library of Dragonstone, to spend the last hour or so before the meal with his little cousin.

Shireen had come out of her shell during the last visits, and eagerly talked about whatever Master Cressen was teaching her this month or what books she was currently reading. At six years old she was a better reader than most nobles, including her mother, who had no interest in books other than the seven pointed star. Joffrey had noted the lack of Melisandre and her talks about the Lord of Light, apparently the red priestess hadn’t arrived yet. Which he was rather thankful for.

295 AC, Essos’ coastline, Wraith

Visiting Braavos had been even better than Joffrey imagined. It reminded him of Venice and Athens at the same time. A curious mixture of Italian and Greek culture, well into the renaissance phase, unlike Westeros that was still mostly stuck in the medieval times. Joffrey had taken the opportunity to taste as many foreign dishes as possible and practice the Valyrian dialect of Braavos. It had felt like a dream to wander between the colorful stands, look at costly fabrics beside jewelry, spices and many other wares. The way the incense smoke of a nearby temple had mixed with the cooking smells and the salty air from the sea had made Joffrey light-headed and he had felt like he was wandering in a dream world. It was one of the most visceral experiences since he had ‘woken’.

Even Stannis seemed to enjoy their stay and agreed to extend their visit from one week to 12 days.

In that time Joffrey took the opportunity to spend some money. The moment he had learned about the trip to Essos he had ensured that the ‘spending money’ that was sent to him every month from King’s Landing and had been accumulating in his rooms on Dragonstone was loaded onto the ship.
In Braavos he took the opportunity to buy the newest version of a pianoforte for Oak Valley Hall, which was about a quarter of the price of what his parents had paid the first time around. Other than some trinkets for his family, Joffrey also bought bolts of cotton, wool and silk all died in various purple colors which was far cheaper than in King’s Landing. One of his last visits before they continued to travel south was to an apothecary on the edge of a smaller market. From the rumors Joffrey had picked up during his wanderings in Braavos, the shop carried besides expensive perfumes from Myr and Lys, also medicine and in the last corner in the back, poison.

It would probably be the only chance for Joffrey to obtain poison without anyone realizing who bought it. Neither Maege nor Sandor spoke the dialect of Braavos and the shopkeeper only saw a young foreign boy of higher status before him. So Joffrey ordered oils and perfumes from Lys and Myr, as well as Tears of Lys.

The man paused at the last request, “The young master is sure that he wishes for Tears of Lys.”

Joffrey paused for a moment before he answered slowly, trying to pronounce the words as correctly as possible. “Tears of Lys is what my uncle said to me.” He wasn’t sure if he would be laughed out of the apothecary or some kind of law enforcement would be called, but he had to try.

After another moment of contemplation the shopkeeper nodded with a small smirk on his face and named an outrageous number of gold. Joffrey thought for a moment and then just shrugged and handed over the money. He wouldn’t get that kind of a chance again. The shopkeeper quickly counted the gold coins and then vanished behind the counter to collect Joffrey’s order.

His purchases were neatly set into a small wooden box that clearly could be locked if needed and carefully filled it with vials before he closed it in front of their eyes and pushed it in direction of Maege who wordlessly took it. And with that Joffrey finally had a deadly weapon that should keep suspicion away from him. And he had just the right person in mind on who he would test it.

XXXXXXXXX

Braavos weather was not unlike that of King’s Landing, though somewhat damper and maybe a few degrees colder. Once they were back on the ship and traveling south, the weather got warmer and warmer, until it was rather sweltering and reminded Joffrey of Turkey and Malta. When they arrived in Pentos a dry heat had set in that could easily lead to dehydration.

In Pentos, unlike Braavos, Stannis didn’t let him out of his sight, not that Joffrey was very surprised. The slaving history of the city as well as the continued practice of so called ‘free bond servants’ made him very uncomfortable and aware of the appraising looks of well-dressed men and women that followed Joffrey while he walked the streets.
His uncle had clearly picked up on that as well and they spent less than four days in the port. Just enough time to ensure that they had fresh supplies, visited the markets to buy some of the trinkets and then they were off, returning to Westeros.

The crossover went smoothly, the wind was in their favor and only a handful days later Joffrey could make out the coastline of Westeros. The anchored in a small bay, a few days away from the Parchments where they waited for the Fury and Dale Seaworth.

The ship change was once again done smoothly, the Wraith would continue their journey to King’s Landing where they would unload Joffrey’s purchases with detailed instructions to the Red Keep staff what should be done with which object.

Joffrey sighed while he stared at the coastline of Westeros.

“Deep thoughts, Jof?” the name that Joffrey had received as a cover rolled easily from the man behind him.

Joffrey’s lips quirked and he glanced at Ser Wylde who had several maps secured firmly under his right arm.

“Just thinking about how dearly I will miss this once I have returned to King’s Landing.”

“Truly? Mayhaps there will be other opportunities to board a ship in your future. The gods willing.”

“Mayhaps.” Joffrey agreed thoughtfully.

He didn’t think that very likely, not with the Long Night on its way, so he would enjoy these last weeks on sea to the fullest. And what was there not to enjoy, the stiff breeze that was running through his hair and the nearly cloudless sky above were nearly picture perfect.

XXXXXXXXXX

Joffrey took back his thoughts on how smooth everything was going, only a week after boarding the Fury they had been hit by storms twice within a handful days, and the sails and spars were in desperate need of repairs. So they had to make a stop at the small port that was part of the Parchments, the seat of House Penrose.

Lord and lady Penrose, an elderly couple with grey hair, greeted them at the pier. Stannis was his usual curt and perfunctory self and Joffrey scrambled to save the situation with charming platitudes that Renly had insisted he learned by rote, while at the same time not cause even more harm to Stannis’ reputation.

With the repairs of the main sail not finished within a day, Stannis couldn’t possibly reject the invitation of Lord Penrose to feast with them.

Joffrey took the opportunity to have the clothing that he had bought in Braavos adjusted to Westerosi sensibilities and his house sigil embroidered onto an assortment of cloaks. His taste in clothing was as always influenced by the need to have as much range of motion as possible, as well as choosing more muted colors. To make up for that Joffrey always made certain that the fabric they were made from was of the best quality and had elaborate patterns and designs as was expected of the crown prince. It would not do to break convention this early in his life while his position was still an unsteady one.

Chapter 16 Chapter Text

295 AC, Tarth coast, Fury

Joffrey couldn’t help the admiring murmur that escaped his lips, “Tis beautiful.”

“Aye.” Ser Wylde acknowledged, “The Sapphire Isle’s reputation is not misplaced. Evenfall will be in seeing distance within the hour.”

“Have you met Lord Tarth? My uncle Renly has said little about the lord of the Island, he spoke more about his daughter.”

“Brienne of Tarth? Aye she is hard to forget, that poor girl. Never seen a woman with more unfortunate features. It doesn’t help that her father let’s her romp around in the training fields.”

Joffrey kept from replying with a harsh rebuke. Ser Wylde’s words were discourteous, but he didn’t seem to have meant them meanspirited, just stating facts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Their party was welcomed and greeted as according to their station and Joffrey found Selwyn Tarth a pleasant man, maybe a decade older than Robert. At the welcoming feast he was seated as the guest of honor to the right of the Lord while Stannis sat on his left.

Brienne sat to Joffrey’s immediate right, as was proper and after the initial small talk with Lord Selwyn Joffrey finally had the opportunity to turn to the woman he only knew off through books.

“It is good to finally meet you Lady Brienne,” he said with a kind smile while he nodded to her, “My uncle, Lord Renly, has told me about you. He said that you are a skilled fighter.”

The blonde woman’s face heated and she seemed unsure what to say, simply bowing her head in acknowledgment, keeping her eyes downcast and turning her attention to the food in front of her.

The books were right, she was clearly socially awkward and there was something painfully earnest about her. Joffrey made a mental note to make an effort to draw her out in the next few days while they anchored at Evenfall Hall. Just a few hours ago his uncle had taken one look at the horizon and changed his plans about leaving the next morning. Apparently they were in for some typical Shipbreaker Bay storms.

Once the ship was back in order our route took us to Evenfall Hall, the seat of House Tarth and the home of a dear friend.

In these days, many a soul still mocked Brienne of Tarth for her looks, for holding a sword, for her ungainly manners. She was a youth of ten and six when we were first introduced. A woman nearly six feet tall and built more solid than many knights. By then she already knew how to use her strength and height in a fight, she even went toe to toe with Clegane and while initially defeated, she made him work for it. My uncle, Lord Renly, had mentioned her in passing, the atypical highborn maiden that was the only heir to Lord Tarth but to meet her in person was another matter. She was not traditionally beautiful, nor even plain. Brienne stood out wherever she went, be it because of her height, her width, the sword she was carrying or her unrefined features but she had a good nature. Innocent, my Queen described her after their first meeting, and somewhat melancholy even when she visibly brightened when in good company.
Three betrothals her father had arranged, two times she was rejected and the last time she spurred her suitor herself. I have to confess that it was pity more than anything else that made me offer her a position in my household, an action most fortunate, no matter the initial reasoning. I never once regretted having her by my side.

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Hedda hummed thoughtfully while she traced out the name Brienne of Tarth. A female knight of a sorts, and if she had interpreted that phrases ‘dear friend’ and ‘never regretted having her by my side’ right, a semi-important figure in Joffrey’s life.
But Hedda couldn’t recall any kind of female warrior that stood at Joffrey’s side. Only the men that by now had become much loved legends, his knights of the round table. History just seemed to have… forgotten her.

“Are you surprised?” Jeyne asked dryly, “To this day we have to fight for any kind of recognition in our field of expertise. How much harder must it have been for a women 1500 years ago? A woman that according to Joffrey’s description was not able to fulfill the expected beauty and personality ideal of a highborn lady.”

“We could be looking at a completely new facet of women in that period thanks to Joffrey’s descriptions.” Hedda murmured back, “Do you have any contacts to that Vale professor. You know the woman that specialized on feminism and gender studies in the late 17^th century? Would be interesting to cooperate with her on some earlier case studies.”

“I think I know who you mean. Cassana Ormund-Dragonseed. She is currently lecturing in Oldtown university as far I can remember. I can send her an email.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

295 AC, Sapphire Isle, Evenfall Hall

With the storms preventing them from continuing their journey, Joffrey used the opportunity to get to know Brienne better. He had charmed her father well enough and was given permission to explore the scenery around Evenfall Hall.
Brienne was a willing companion and guide, after first being rather quiet she tentatively began to talk about her home. She seemed to be waiting for Joffrey or his sworn sword to insult her appearance, when neither happened she began to slowly relax.

Sometime after a quick lunch on a cliff with a good view on the castle and the bay the topic of conversation turned to female warriors in Westeros. Brienne was clearly searching for likeminded.

“From what I have heard it is the North that boasts most of the warrior women, House Mormont for example.” Joffrey said thoughtfully.

At Brienne’s dismayed expression he added, “If you seek a place closer to home… well. Would you consider becoming part of my household? When I return to King’s Landing it will be expected of me to find companions of noble heritage. You have been good company these past days, lady Brienne. It would be my pleasure to welcome you in my household, if you so wish.”

Brienne looked stunned at that offer before she carefully answered, “You honor me, prince Joffrey. I cannot commit though, first I would have to talk with my lord father.”

Joffrey nodded at that and changed the topic to historical female fighters. Brienne clearly liked discussing the women that were a role model to her.

Four days they stayed at Evenfall Hall, and when they left Joffrey was sure that Brienne would follow him. Not now, not even next year but eventually she would find her way into his household. Of that he was sure.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

With the wind changing Stannis had adjusted their route. They were now making their way to the Rain House, the seat of House Wylde before they would travel on to Griffin’s Roost and then Storm’s End. According to Stannis it would take them far less time as if they had waited until the winds changed again and traveled directly to Storm’s End.

Joffrey was fine with it either way.

Ser Manfred Wylde was of course ecstatic by that change of route. He spend the next few days regaling Joffrey about the lands House Wylde possessed as well as quite a few stories what he and his cousins, including the current Lord Casper Wylde had gotten up to in their youth.
Joffrey felt quite amused by the adventurous tales of the Wylde boys building tree platforms in the woods behind the castle, daring each other to jump off cliffs or sneak ale and wine from the kitchens. They sounded like people Joffrey would enjoy spending some time with.

And just as Ser Wylde had promised, after the usual formalities had been observed, Joffrey was led up into the rainforest to tour the tree houses and hiding spaces that were now used by the youngest generation of Wylde children.

He had fun exploring the surroundings and even jumped from some of the lower cliffs into the sea. He didn’t quite dare to go to the higher spots, not that he thought that Sandor or his uncle would allow it.

Stannis was also in a rather benign mood, if there ever was such a thing, he and Ser Ormund Wylde seemed to have formed a kind of kinship and could be found talking about their shared passion, the sea. So it fell to Joffrey to converse with Lord Casper Wylde during the meals. A circ*mstance that he used to continue his PR campaign for his own person. The more lords liked him and felt him capable to lead them, the less likely it would be for a rebellion to succeed.

They continued their journey a handful days later, with their next destination Griffin’s Roost. The seat of the knightly house Connington.

They hadn’t made any problems since their demotion at the end of Robert’s Rebellion but Stannis was not a man that took potential threats lightly. Joffrey noted that a far larger number of men had taken up residence in the guest quarters of the Roost than in the Rain House. He was always shadowed by at least two additional men beside Sandor, who watched everything warily.

Joffrey was of a mind to protest this treatment, then thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

In any case Ser Ronnet Connington was eager to please the Baratheon party. He was a knight in his early twenties that just became the head of House Connington. He introduced his trueborn siblings Raymund and Alynne who were 11 and 10 years respectively before he also introduced his son Ronald Storm who was of an age with Joffrey.

Stannis wasn’t very happy about that, seeing it as an insult, but kept his tongue and only uttered several harsh words after the feast in their quarters.

Joffrey found the Connington children to be nice enough, but nothing to write home about.

In the training yard he found somebody that he recalled from another life. Balon Swann, now still a squire under Ser Roy Connington, an old distant relative of the current lord. Joffrey remembered Balon Swann as somebody who, once he had given his allegiance, would stay loyal even when the royal family showed signs of insanity. Which meant he was somebody potentially very useful to Joffrey.

For this reason Joffrey took it upon himself to exchange some words with the 16 name day old squire. He wasn’t very talkative, but he clearly paid attention and seemed pleased with the attention from Joffrey. He also held himself admirably against Clegane, even if he was unable to hold a sword for two days after their practice match. It was telling how his sworn sword nodded in his direction in visible approval. Yes, acquiring Balon Swan for his retinue would certainly be beneficial.

Their stay in Griffin’s Roost was otherwise rather unremarkable and Joffrey was eager to arrive at their initial destination.

Storm’s End.

Chapter 17 Chapter Text

295 AC, Stormlands, Storm’s End

The rowing boat carefully docked at the only pier in the waterfilled cavern and the rowers quickly jumped out to bind it to the Iron ring in the wall.

“Joffrey! Brother!” Renly called jovially from the only stair case in the cavern, he was clearly in the best of moods and quickly came closer, “Welcome, welcome!”

Joffrey smiled back, it was good to see Renly after such a long time apart.

“Greetings uncle. It is good to see you. I hope you didn’t wait too long? We had to make a detour to reach Storm’s End.”

“I thought as much when I heard from several ships that the wind in the Bay turned. You made good time anyway!”

“Renly.” Stannis said curtly and coolly.

“Why so dour brother? As far as I could see the Storm did not do much damage to your ship.”

Stannis just kept his lips pressed together and said nothing, instead he began the track up the stairs to Storm’s End.

Joffrey wanted to sigh, he had feared this, but instead to comment he just smiled helplessly at Renly who rolled his eyes and pulled Joffrey into a hug.

“I am glad that you finally get a chance to visit Storm’s End. Do not let Stannis ire color your visit. He always gets like that when return’s to our home.”

Joffrey just nodded and followed the younger of his uncles.

Joffrey felt for Stannis, he really did, but Renly was a good Lord Paramount. The Stormlords liked him and while he could be arrogant and entitled Renly also cared for the smallfolk. He rode out regularly with his knights to take care of bandit problems and didn’t overtax them.

Joffrey was pulled out of his musings when said Lord Paramount began to regale him with stories about the construction of Storm’s End. The stairs that led up from the small passage where the rowing boat had docked where roughly cut into the stone and slippery and Joffrey had to brace himself more than once to not slip on them while they walked.

XXXXXXXX

That evening they were treated to a feast with Stormland specialties, a feast quite a bit bigger than Joffrey had anticipated. Beside their party, Renly was also hosting various Stormlander lords or their heirs. An annual occasion since Renly became Lord Paramount, but one which he apparently had pulled forward. If Joffrey remembered correctly the next one should have happened at the earliest in 4 months.

Joffrey hadn’t been able to suppress the dry expression and raised eyebrow when Renly finally looked into his direction. Loras, a few seats on Joffrey’s right snickered when Renly sent back a beaming smile. Joffrey couldn’t help the small wry smile that appeared in response. Well, he should have seen that coming with the way Renly had been orchestrating his social life in King’s Landing.

After leaving Evenfall Hall we traveled to the Rain House, the seat of House Wylde and then to Griffin’s Roost where we were welcomed by Ser Ronnel Connington and his family. It was there that I made first acquaintance with Ser Balon Swann, than still a squire before we were off to the ancestral Baratheon seat, Storm’s End.

My families ancestral seat was… I remember staring up and up at the thick walls that defied the strong winds and stormy sea even while we were approaching. There was no conventional port where we could land. Instead we were collected in several small rowing boats by Baratheon servants. At first I didn’t quite understand where they were bringing us until only a few dozen meters away from the cliffs an opening became apparent. It was just big enough that one rowing boat at a time could slip through the entrance into a cavern that was somewhat sheltered from the sea. A single dock and a narrow staircase hewn into the rock was the only access to the castle above them. This passage was secured by two sturdy iron gates and the narrow staircase that would serve as a choking point for attackers.

We were welcomed by the younger of my uncles. Renly, by then more of a dear friend than uncle, spend the next few days showing me around Storm’s End and the surrounding villages. I have to admit I quite liked the picturesque surroundings and I would have gladly spent more time there, if there wasn’t the constant noise of the wind blowing and whistling in all corners. It is a wonder that most of the Stormlanders are not deaf by the time they reach their second decade.

Beside the ancient seat of my family, there was another reason why I had been eager to visit Storm’s End. It was also the home of my bastard brother Edric Storm.
Edric was conceived by my father and Delena of House Florent on the wedding night of Lord Stannis to his wife Selyse Florent. Something my uncle took as a great insult against his person. Especially because my father, drunk as he was, had the bad taste to bed Lady Delena in what should have been Stannis marriage bed. The whole affair was so ill done that I still cringe at the vaguest recollection.
Edric was the only acknowledged bastard of the two dozen or so half siblings that I had been made aware off throughout my life. He was a kind boy, boisterous and easy to delight and in later years a steady presence in the more tumultuous times ahead of me.
When we first met he was just 7 name days old and was just beginning to learn the skills of a knight.

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“Hoo boy! No wonder Queen Cersei was unhappy with her husband if that is the kind of behavior she was used to.” Jeyne said rather wide eyed when she finished reading the last of Hedda’s translation for the day.

“It certainly explains Joffrey’s tone at the beginning of his journal.” Tywin agreed dryly, “Not to mention Lord Stannis. Discovering his brother in his own bed on his wedding night must have been galling.”

“And once again Joffrey talks favorably about a sibling, even the bastard one.” Hedda hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you think that’s a reason why we know about some of Robert’s bastards? Because Joffrey tolerated them, maybe even had a good relationship with them?” Jeyne asked.

“Possibly. In any case, I won’t start to speculate until after the whole journal is translated, for now this is just conjecture.” Hedda said with shrug.

Tywin nodded in agreement before he showed her the dossiers he and Erenford had compiled of all the people mentioned in the pages that were already translated. They purposefully kept only to the information that was present in the journal. On the magnet wall he had drawn a bar that was divided in 79 sections, one for every year he had lived. There were footnotes under each section, as well as small notations and abbreviations here and there directly on the board. Proper researcher chaos.

“What are we going to do for dinner?” said red head asked into the round.

“I know a nice little Naathi restaurant. It’s a family business and their desserts are to die for.” Jeyne piped up, hands stretched over her head, trying to loosening up the muscles that had stiffened.

Hedda nodded in agreement, she never had authentic Naathi food before. It was rare to find immigrants from the isle group outside the larger cities of Westeros.

“Oh by the way, Clegane got back to me. He will arrive in two days, with Prof. Paenymion.”

Hedda’s head snapped up at that.

“Really? Meralyn is coming here? I thought she was in Asshai, taking part on a dig in the Vale of Shadows.”

“She was, she postponed it. Apparently this is more interesting.”

“I bet.” Hedda said with a grin.

Prof. Meralyn Paenymion was the oldest professor currently teaching at the university of Volantis, but nobody would believe it from just meeting her. She had just celebrated her 87^th birthday, but looked at least 20 years younger and she was an icon in the world of archeology and historic research. She had changed her field of study more often than anyone else alive and always with success.

When she had been asked about it in one of her countless interviews, she only answered that she got easily bored. She was also one of the most beloved lecturers planetos-wide. Students adored her incredibly interactive classes, Hedda herself had the pleasure of listening to one of her guest lectures about Stormlander architecture during her college time in King’s Landing.

In her post-graduate years Hedda was fortunate enough to come in contact with the older woman more than once. During one of the first conferences Hedda attended Meralyn had listened patiently to her theories about the formation of the Citadel, then offered her first name to a star struck Hedda before she proceeded to good-naturedly tear apart her theories. She did it kindly, but firmly and then proceeded to push Hedda into a research frenzy that had never ended. To this day Meralyn was one of Hedda’s absolute all time heroes.

“This will certainly speed up the translation a lot.” She mumbled while she thought about her role model.

295 AC, Stormlands, Storm’s End

The day after the feast Joffrey was finally introduced to Edric Storm.

His so called half-brother was only two inches shorter than him and far broader in the chest. Edric’s hair was jet black, like all the other Baratheons and his blue eyes were the exact copy of Renly’s. His whole body-type was far more stocky than Joffrey’s but thankfully their seemed to be enough similar traits in both their appearance that they could be related.

It was enough. It had to be.

So Joffrey finally stopped his inquisitive staring and looked the younger boy into the eyes.

Edric had a somewhat anxious expression on his face, Joffrey must have stared for too long. Time for damage control.

“I am pleased to finally meet you Edric.”

“Likewise prince Joffrey.” The boy replied formally.

“Joffrey is fine in private. You are my half-brother.”

That made the younger boy grin hopefully.

“Uncle Renly has told me about you.” He whispered shyly, “He said that you are good with both a sword and books. I like the training but not the books.”

Joffrey grinned back, “It’s not for everyone, but I’m glad that I do not have trouble with it. Unfortunately I see rather much reading and writing in my future.”

Renly, who had stayed some steps back to give the appearance of some privacy, chuckled at that.

“Ah the fate of a monarch. Paperwork and long meetings. I do not envy you your fate nephew.” He said with a wink.

Joffrey looked dryly back, they both knew that Robert did no such thing, but that Joffrey would have to, if he wanted to ensure that Westeros stayed in the hands of House Baratheon of King’s Landing.

The day was passed with pleasant, if superficial conversation and some bouts on the training field. Edric was easy to please, and soon he was sending Joffrey eager and adoring looks. A day or two more, to reinforce his work and Joffrey was certain that Edric’s loyalty would be his.

When they left to prepare for supper Renly accompanied him a bit on the way.

“Well done.” he simply said. “This will certainly go a long way to prevent any shenanigans if somebody ever tries to turn him against you.”

Joffrey glanced back and then simply shrugged his shoulders, “Edric is a nice boy. A bit too straight forward for my taste, but earnest and he will clearly be a very skilled fighter one day. It is no hardship to spent time with him or build a relationship through letters. He is also my half-sibling… incidentally one of many, if the rumors are true. I think, if at all possible I want to have a good relationship to my father’s bastards. None of them are responsible for the circ*mstance of their birth, and they do carry the same blood as me.”

Renly looked a bit conflicted at that, “It honors you to think like that, but I would caution against giving them too much station. Remember the tales about the Great Bastards of Aegon IV.”

Joffrey looked back dryly, “Maybe, but other than Edric no one was acknowledged or born to a noblewoman. As far as I am aware there are only baseborn bastards of my father.”

“Truth.” Renly said with a sigh, “I know of a boy that works in the shop of Tobho Mott and there is Mya Stone up in the Vale. Still Joffrey, I caution you from having too much contact with them, your mother and the whole Lannister House wouldn’t be pleased. Do not unnecessarily anger that side of your family, especially not concerning matters of honor.”

Joffrey sighed and nodded, Renly was right of course. At least he now had an excuse about knowing of Gendry. He hadn’t seen the boy yet, but this was one person Joffrey absolutely intended to have contact with, he would just have to be subtle about it.

Chapter 18 Chapter Text

Edric was a child that was easy enough to please. During our first meeting we spend carefree days together exploring Storm’s End and competing in the training yards. It was the start of a friendship that would last to the day he died of old age.

We did not always agree with each other, but Edric’s loyalty could never be questioned. He kept my secrets and protected both my right to the throne as well as that which was most precious to me, my family.

The older he grew the stronger the resemblance between my half-brother and our father became, Edric loved good fights, wine and women. Though he generally only partook in the last one when he was certain that he would not father a child. He was never interested in starting a family, too restless for it. For some years he roamed around Westeros and Essos, seeing and partaking in the world around him. He was a much beloved figure at court whenever he returned, regaling us with fantastical stories and gifting many a trinket to my children.
In his later years he became the senior guard commander of the Red Keep and teacher to my children and grandchildren, who affectionally called him uncle Ed.

His death in 355 AC at the age of 68 was a kind one, some three years after handing over his position as guard commander he passed away in his sleep. At that time he had still been able enough to partake in regular sword exercises and spent his days delighting my grandchildren with stories.
Learning about the death of my younger brother had hurt at the time, but these days I cannot help but feel comforted about the way he left the world. Edric had a fulfilled life and slipped away peacefully in the night, I can only hope that a similar fate awaits me.

295 AC, Stormlands, Storm’s End

They spent four more days in Storm’s End, which gave Joffrey time to explore the castle and surrounding woods. In that time he saw Stannis only a handful of times, most days he was to be found in the map room. A place not to dissimilar to a library where the sea maps of dozens of generations of Baratheon captains were stored. Dragonstone had a similar room adjacent to his uncle’s study and Joffrey suspected from where Stannis had taken the inspiration for it.

On the fifth day, bright and early they left, once again by rowboat to board the Fury.

The moment he was back on his ship Stannis relaxed and his face returned to his usual expression instead of the stormy one he had worn during their visit at the ancestral Baratheon seat.
Joffrey refrained from commenting about it and dutifully fulfilled the tasks that were given to him. By evening Stannis was back to his taciturn ways, grilling Joffrey on laws and conventions aboard the Westerosi war galleys.

Their journey out of Shipbreaker Bay was a bit more tumultuous than Joffrey’s taste but two days later they passed the Parchments once again on their way to more open waters. It would take them another four to five days to reach Dragonstone and after that Joffrey’s time in Stannis care was almost over.

Incidentally he had used the rookery of Storm’s End to write to his parents, siblings and Tyrion, to announce his approaching return to King’s Landing.

XXXXXXXXX

The welcome on Dragonstone was as perfunctory as always. Only this time the whole Seaworth family and a few other nobles loyal to Stannis were already in the castle.

On their second day Stannis even held a feast in honor of Joffrey’s departure, an exceedingly rare occasion as he had been told by everyone and their servant.

Contrary to his expectations Joffrey actually enjoyed this feast. The food consisted mostly of seafood with some red meat dishes in between and little alcoholic beverages. The people Stannis had invited were all experienced seamen with stories and cautionary tales galore. Joffrey found himself sitting long into the night listening to them regale each other with their stories.

The next day consisted mostly of the Dragonstone servants packing Joffrey’s belongings that had accumulated during his fostering. He also took one last long walk through the village at the foot of Dragonstone. Memorizing the layout of the island and ordering additional dragonglass knives. His first order had just been finished and he would be able to take it along on his trip home.

XXXXXXXXXX

“You will write?” Shireen asked uncertainly while they spent their last hours together in the library.

“I will write, little cousin.” Joffrey assured her with a warm smile.

Even if it hadn’t been political useful he would have still written her. Shireen was much more his own speed than Edric Storm. She was smart, well read and curious about everything around her. That she was also the future lady of Dragonstone and possibly Storm’s End was certainly not something he should disregard. Right now though she was just a smart little girl, desperate for a friend. If their good relationship continued she would be a formidable ally in 10 to 15 years. He also had vague plans of introducing her to Myrcella, his little sister was growing and could definitely use a friend that was not a Lannister cousin.

295 AC Blackwater Bay, approaching King’s Landing

“Are you looking forward to returning to King’s Landing, my prince?” Maric Seaworth, the oarmaster of the Fury asked when the towers of the Red Keep came into seeing distance.

Joffrey contemplated the question before he admitted, “It is a mixture of emotions. I am looking forward to seeing my family and household again, but I can’t say that I have missed court life or being bound to one place.”

Stannis who stood on the deck above them snorted derisively at the mention of court life and Joffrey grinned at him, his uncle was rather well known for his distaste of the royal court and all its yes-men.

They had made good time and were nearly a whole day early, so Joffrey wasn’t surprised when there wasn’t a large welcoming party visible. He was rather glad about it.

He took the time that the crew needed to dock the ship, to change his clothing to a far more royal outfit. It felt strange to don the finely embroidered white and gold silk shirt that Renly had gifted him before adding the black woolen surcoat. That particular piece of clothing had been commissioned by his mother over a year ago and depicted lions and stags in gold thread. In his absence the fabric had been finished and then sent to Dragonstone where it had been carefully packed away until they reached Storm’s End where Renly’s tailor finished fitting it to Joffrey’s current size. His new black trousers and leather boots weren’t worn in yet, but they were comfortable enough.

He was just closing his belt when Clegane entered the room after a short knock.

“We are 5 minutes out.” He grunted.

Joffrey nodded and grabbed the black leather tie that he used to secure his hair in a low bun.

The he turned expectantly to Clegane, “Am I presentable?”

Clegane just grunted and nodded before he left the room first.

Joffrey shook his head with a small smile and followed his sworn sword out.

XXXXXXXXXX

Joffrey hadn’t expected to feel nervous while he waited in the antechamber of the throne room for the herald to announce them.

"His Highness, prince Joffrey of House Baratheon of King’s Landing and the Master of Ships, Lord Stannis of House Baratheon of Dragonstone!”

Hearing his cue, Joffrey walked through the doors and up to the Iron Throne, his uncle by his side and Clegane as always a few steps behind him.

For once Robert sat on the monstrosity instead of Jon Arryn, apparently somebody had warned him about Joffrey’s arrival. His expression was hidden under his long beard, but his eyes didn’t leave Joffrey as he walked up to the bottom of the massive throne and then bowed formally.

“Greetings, your Grace.” He spoke formally, before he let a brilliant smile brighten his face and he added, “I have returned, father.”

“So you have.” Robert said uncommonly solemn, than he rose and walked down until he stood in front of Joffrey.

“Lord Stannis.” Robert than continued, strangely formal.

“Your Grace.” Stannis answered with a curt nod.

“I have given you my eldest son in good faith and health. He has now been returned to me. Tell me, has prince Joffrey comported himself according to his station?”

“Prince Joffrey has fulfilled all the tasks given to him with the care and mindfulness one expects from a prince of the realm. He has comported himself with dignity and acted with valor and chivalry during the time of his fostering.” His uncle replied just as measured.

Joffrey was more than a bit confused by the mummers play in front of him. Robert and Stannis never talked like this when they met, not even in a formal setting.

In that moment Robert nodded gravely and turned his attention back to Joffrey. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and just behind him he saw his mother nearly beam with pride.

Oh, oh damn. Joffrey had a suspicion, but he didn’t understand why. If they were really planning to confirm him as crown prince they were 3 years too early. Traditionally it was the 13^th name day at which princes of the Targaryen dynasty had been handed more responsibility.

“Prince Joffrey, you have shown maturity and a keen sense of understanding since an early age. I have contemplated and determined in accordance with the Small Council that you are worthy the conveyance of the title ‘crown prince of Westeros’ and all with its connected duties and obligations. Kneel.”

Joffrey numbly kneeled and stared up at his father as he gently placed a coronet on top of his head. It was far more ostentatious than the circlet that he and his siblings normally wore on the most formal of occasions.

“Rise prince Joffrey, heir to the Seven Kingdoms.” Robert called loudly into the nearly silent throne room.

Joffrey did as his father told him and stood and turned around to give the courtiers a chance to look at him. He was so glad that his teachers had already covered several variations of such royal coming of age ceremonies with him and he had a vague idea what to expect and how to comport himself. Really, couldn’t have somebody warned him in advance?

Looking back at Robert he had just time to register the big grin that the king wore, before he was embraced and unceremoniously pulled off his feet. Joffrey was dangling a few inches above the floor and could have sighed at the indignity.

“Joffrey didn’t cause you trouble, did he?” Robert asked now far more casually, still not letting go of Joffrey, who by now was red in the face because of the embarrassment.

From the corner of his eye he could see an amused Jon Arryn and his mother, who had her lips pressed together in disapproval.

Stannis looked at the scene in front of him with slight disapproval before he said, “Prince Joffrey is a quick learner and more sensible than can be expected of a boy his age.”

Joffrey couldn’t help but stare at his uncle, that was an enthusiastic and ringing endorsem*nt if he ever heard from Stannis. Robert apparently thought the same because his eyebrow wandered up before he burst into another gale of laughter.

“I’m glad you like my boy.” He said amused before he turned to the rest of the court, “Court is adjourned for today, tomorrow there will be a feast in honor of Prince Joffrey’s return and his ascension to crown prince.”

The nobles around them curtsy and bowed in the direction of the king before they slowly began to leave the Great Hall.

Joffrey finally escaped Robert’s arms to turn his attention to where his mother stood.
Cersei Lannister was just as beautiful as she had been when he left more than half year ago.

“Your Grace.” He said playfully before he kissed her hand and then her cheeks.

His mother’s arms came around him and she held him in a far gentler embrace than Robert.

“My beautiful son, my little lion.” She whispered softly into his ear, discreet only because of the public setting. “It is good to have you back.”

Then she took a step back to take him in.

“You have grown and you have become even more handsome.” She commented with visible approval.

Joffrey smiled and laughed, “If you say so mother. Myrcella and Tommen are well?” he couldn’t help but ask.

As they hadn’t reached 7 years of age and hadn’t been officially introduced at court, his siblings were not present in the Great Hall to witness his ascension to crown prince.

“They are with the septa. They have missed you as well.” His mother said with a soft smile.

Joffrey nodded, he would just have to steal his siblings for a day or two once his official reintroduction to the court was taken care off.

With a last courteous bow to his mother he turned around and made his way to Jon Arryn, time to learn what had happened in court while he was gone.

Chapter 19 Summary:

Hi, sorry for the late update, I got my vaccine this week and I had a reaction. Ugh it was really not fun, but I am slowly on the mend. :) - Enjoy

Chapter Text

295 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep, Small Council chamber

Four days later Joffrey took part in the Small Council session. Coincidentally it was about the financial situation of the realm. In Joffrey’s eyes there wasn’t a better topic to start with.

“Lord Baelish you have the word.” Lord Jon said with a nod.

Lord Baelish smiled back at his liege and took out to documents, one carried the crest of the Iron Bank, the other a seal that was unknown to Joffrey.

“With the last shipments we have cleared our debts with the Iron Bank and the Tyroshi trading cartel. The overall debt has shrunk to a million gold dragons that we owe Lord Lannister and 200.000 gold dragons that Lord Tyrell borrowed to us.”

Approving murmurs came from all sides, while Joffrey listened quietly.

“So when do you think the whole debt will be cleared then?” Lord Jon asked thoughtfully.

“If the current projection continues and there are no unforeseen setbacks, then we will have cleared the debt in another three years.” Baelish said neutrally.

Lord Jon nodded and said slowly, “Have the debt of House Tyrell paid first.”

Joffrey could only agree silently, it would be better not owe them money once they actually needed something from them, or their negotiation position would be even worse. Still, Joffrey thought, the current state of the treasury was satisfactory, with the debts outside of Westeros repaid maybe it was time for Lord Baelish to be relieved of his duties. After all he had no interest in finding out was ‘unforeseen setbacks’ would wait for them.

XXXXXXXX

On another note Joffrey’s diminished household finally arrived from Oak Valley Hall. Maege was glad to see her sisters again and Clegane used the opportunity to soundly trounce the guards.

Massey had used the time apart to fill the additional smallfolk positions in his household and train them up to his expectations. Joffrey was satisfied, they all looked neat and clean, even the lowest footmen seemed to have received a lecture about cleanliness. And most importantly they were doing their jobs discreet and quietly. He would have to find a free afternoon sometime soon to get a full report from Massey and reward her for her good work.

Their clothes though… after the first inspection Joffrey handed Massey some gold to equip everyone with new clothing and the crested waist belts that she and the remaining servants wore. He also tasked her with familiarizing them with the Red Keep and the more important members of its workforce.

Meanwhile Joffrey’s priority was talking to his purse. It took him a couple of days to go through the ledgers with Victaron Crabb and get caught up about the current state of his fortune.
The reduced expenditures had ensured that he had accumulated a bit of a surplus sum even with the allowance that had been sent regularly to Dragonstone. Joffrey ordered Crabb to use some of it to buy various shops and businesses in the larger port cities of Westeros. Money was always something he would need after all, especially with his household growing.

The rest of it was to be reinvested in the land he had owned for some years now. Creating more fields and setting up additional farm land with the, by now, tried and tested field rotation technique that had been developed in Oak Valley Hall. For the last two, nearly three years the fields had consistently produced better than similar fields that were farmed the conventional way. So much in fact that a few of the local farmers had approached Ser Wendwater for information. Joffrey was glad that he had given his castellan instructions to share the knowledge if approached. It would only be a boon if the farms on his lands were more productive.

Joffrey was also happy to note that the rabbit husbandry at Oak Valley Hall was taking off. One person had turned into half a dozen who now cared for the animals and did the processing. The meat had become a staple in Oak Valley Hall while the wealthy locals bought some of the meat for special occasions. The fur was processed in the local tannery and sold by them. Ensuring that the dirty and smelly work was kept outside the castle while still providing them with an additional income. From the summary Ser Wendwater had attached, the breeders were now beginning to select the animals for their size and fur, taking their clues from the horse husbandry that was practiced on the estate.

Once Joffrey had a satisfactory overview of his current holdings he turned his attention to the new ones that had been bestowed to him alongside the title of crown prince. They would pretty much triple his income, even without any improvements from his side. The problem was that they were scattered all over the Crownlands, the Reach as well as the Stormlands. It was a collection of small holdfasts and villages that had belonged to extinct houses or landed knights with no heirs and the land had fallen back to the crown and was now managed by some forgotten fourth son or impoverished knight. Victaron would need additional hands to run a comprehensive survey and root out the unsavory sort.

Thinking of the staff Tyrion was preselecting for him, Joffrey realized that there was also another person who would need help. Marwin, his assistant for social occasions, was pretty much swamped with missives ever since the crown prince announcement. The last time Joffrey had seen him, he had been in the middle of sorting through a plate of raven requests with another chest of handwritten missives waiting beside his table. He had even commandeered two additional rooms to accommodate all the gifts sent for Joffrey, which hadn’t been processed and categorized yet. Each of which needed a reply and acknowledgement. Marwin really deserved some assistants and maybe even a few additional scribes.

Hopefully his uncle had found people that could fill those positions.

Storm’s End was the last significant stop on our patrol route before we returned back to Dragonstone for a last time. Lord Stannis even held a feast in my name, an exceedingly rare occasion, and then two days later we were off to King’s Landing.

I was welcomed back at court with great enthusiasm. My royal father saw fit to bestow additional holdings on my person, as well as the honor of confirming my position as the heir to the Iron Throne in truth. To this day I am not sure what had given him cause for this early appointment, the Targaryen dynasty preferred to hand out such titles around the age of 13, instead of not yet 10 years of age. Though it occurs me that maybe that was precisely the reason, it could have been a whim of my father to not follow the old dynasty’s rules and instead confer new ones. In any case, I found myself more busy than ever after receiving said title. A confirmed crown prince had nominally more power than just a simple prince. I say nominally because how much more power you had, depended on several factors and varied widely in the history of Westerosi royalty.

In my case it meant that I was invited to more occasions in and around King’s Landing and more and more adult members of the nobility sought out audiences with me. Until then I had not realized how much my age had protected me of that kind of attention. The crown prince, 9 name days old or not, was another matter. My words held weight and authority and people as they are wont to do coveted this power for themselves.

Of course my family and Lord Jon were still powerful deterrents against that kind of opportunists, but I have to admit that I was far more alert these days whenever Lord Jon conveyed a lesson about politics or Lord Renly imparted gossip about this or that Lord. I also felt a marked difference in the way our lessons went these days. I was now encouraged to solve problems myself instead of being given a handful of options from which to choose from. Even if that caused some smaller mishaps and orders had to be redone. Lord Jon was clearly trying to show me that my orders had consequences, even if I did not intend certain outcomes.

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“He was confirmed as crown prince at the age of 9?” Tywin asked incredulous.

“If it helps, he was the exception to the rule. Afterwards they stuck once again with 13 and beginning with the 1750’s the age went up again. These days the crown prince is confirmed at age 18, once they reached their majority.” Jeyne said absentmindedly.

Hedda hummed absentmindedly while she marked up the glossary Edwin had compiled in the last two days from her footnotes. He had done a good job so far she could see, but there were several words and phrases were the meaning wasn’t quite correct. But all in all it was really good work for an intern.

She looked up and smiled at the young man in his early twenties, “Good work, there are just some minor adjustments to be done and then please print it out for all of us.”

Edwin nodded, smiling proudly at her, then he looked at his watch and winced.

“I have to hurry, my class starts in an hour.”

Hedda hummed and returned her attention to her first translation drafts. Like always they were a mess of annotations and crossed out sections and then at the neater second draft. That included the medieval sentences printed on top and the translation beneath it. It had less marks, but there were still enough to call it a mess. Hopefully the third draft would be cleaner.

From behind her she heard the vague goodbye of Edwin and when she looked up again only her and Jeyne were still in the room.

“Where is everyone?” she asked baffled.

Jeyne snorted, “Edwin is in class, Tywin had to take a call and I don’t want to know where Erenford is.”

“Edwin does well with the tasks I give him. How long has he been your intern?”

“Nearly 4 months now… and yes, he does good work. He also keeps me mostly on track. I think I will offer him a job as my part time assistant once his exams are over.”

At this Hedda looked up, “Are you serious? Ms. I-do-not-want-help herself is considering taking an assistant?”

Jeyne sent her a stink eye and shrugged, “It took some time to get used to him, but Edwin is good at what he does, and his questions are always thoughtful. He isn’t the most decisive about his specialization, though. He has been dithering around several areas for some time, but… well I took my time as well.”

Hedda nodded and smiled at her friend. Jeyne had been a bit flighty during their university years, jumping from one area of interest to the next and having to be dragged by the ears to finish projects and classes that she had lost interest in. Edwin might not be as bad as her, but she understood Jeyne’s need to help somebody who had the same problem as her.
Jeyne had had to fight tooth and nail to finish all the areas required for her doctor title and only after that she finally could work on the projects she liked. Thinking of Jeyne’s particular taste turned her thoughts to the reason why her friend could be so picky.

“So… I heard the first book of the Jonquil M. Edmure’s series is being turned into a movie?” Hedda asked terribly amused.

Jeyne looked shifty eyed at the door before she murmured, “It might.”

“I have no idea why somebody would actually want to do that.” Hedda continued to tease.

“Hey…” Jeyne said, trying to sound offended and failing, “Yeah, me neither. I mean I wrote those novels drunk off my ass or high on sleep deprivation after the exams…”

“… I know, remember. I proof read them before you sent them off to the publishing house.” Hedda commented dryly.

Jeyne had the habit of writing lurid romance novels whenever she was drunk. She tended to use her knowledge as historian to build believable settings for her story and surprisingly interesting side characters while at the same time the main pairing was having a horribly, horribly cliché romance. It was so bad that it was almost good. Though Hedda always needed alcohol to work herself through Jeyne’s, or better Jonquil M. Edmure’s latest master work.

Neither of them had ever thought that those books would develop into such a hit. Jeyne had sent the manuscripts to several of King’s Landings publishing houses on a dare from Hedda. Both had been really surprised when Jeyne had actually received a contract. Her nom de plume was another inside joke between them. Jonquil after Jonquil and Florian and also because it had the same first letter as Jeyne’s name. M for Marsha and Edmure for Ser Edmure Tully, a third son of House Tully in the 12^th century that had caught Jeyne’s attention and was the starting point for her specialization.

“The movie makers. They want to meet with me.” Jeyne whined.

“Are you?”

“Hell no. If it ever gets out that I am behind those books nobody will ever take me serious again.”

“Wise.” Hedda nodded.

Jonquil M. Edmure series was the reason why Jeyne had the ability to choose her projects and also afford a flat in downtown King’s Landing while only working part time at the Red Keep.

Chapter 20 Chapter Text

295 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s apartments

A week after Joffrey’s return Tyrion arrived from the Westerlands, Joffrey was more than happy to greet his uncle in his quarters.

“Good Gods, will you stop growing. You are not even ten years of age, if you continue like that you will be just as tall as the Mountain in a few years.”

“You are exaggerating.” Joffrey said with a grin and eagerly showed Tyrion to his solar.

They were sitting across from each other while Joffrey quickly went through the neat list of names for various positions and leaved through the short vitae attached at the back. Tyrion across from him was watching him thoughtfully, a glass of arbor red in his hand.

“I see that Stannis was unable to transform you into a smaller copy of himself. There is no scowl on your face, no grinding of your teeth…”

Joffrey ignored the mocking of Stannis and just said, “This list is fantastic, you really outdid yourself uncle.”

“I am glad that you see the value in my many and varied talents.” He mocked before he turned serious, “Mind you, this list is not fool proof. People can be suborned, you know that. Best to continue to be careful.”

Joffrey nodded, “When will they arrive?”

“As soon as I give the word. They might not arrive all at the same time but I think they should be here at the latest for your name day.”

Joffrey hummed in agreement and then slyly pushed a wrapped package over to Tyrion, “A gift for you uncle. I thought you would appreciate it.”

“A book?” Tyrion asked confused after carefully touching it.

“Just a little something that I found during my fostering.”

Tyrion quickly unwrapped it and then stilled, “Battles and Sieges of the Century of Blood.” he read reverently in perfect High Valyrian, “Where did you find that? As far as I am aware there are only two copies left in Oldtown.”

“A small port in the Crownlands. Gods uncle, you wouldn’t believe the treasures that are to find in small markets along the coast. Most of the merchants have no idea what they hold in their hands.”

In fact there was another copy, though in a slightly worse condition than the one he had just gifted to Tyrion, that was now sitting in his private library. Along with several other books he had picked up in the last few months. More importantly he had set up a bargain with several of the sailors in Stannis’ retinue. Whenever they anchored in King’s Landing, he would buy the books and journals they brought to him to a set price as long as they were in a reasonable condition. He hoped to significantly expand his library in that way, the others could be easily sold in King’s Landing.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Joffrey wordlessly let himself into Lord Jon’s solar and sat down in his preferred reading chair while he waited for the Hand of the King to finish his work so that they could start their lesson.

“My prince, what is occupying your mind?” Lord Arryn asked half an hour into their lesson, after Joffrey’s mind wandered for the umpteenth time.

With a deep sigh and careful rub over his eyes Joffrey bowed in acknowledgement, “Lord Jon, please excuse my distraction. My… visit to the city is still on my mind.”

“Visit to the city? The first since returning from your fostering, I take?”

Joffrey nodded before he finally said, “I never quite realized it until my fostering, but the condition of King’s Landing is atrocious if compared with other port cities.”

Lord Jon didn’t deny it and only waited for Joffrey to continue his thoughts.

“It is filled with sh*t and rot and begging smallfolk on every corner. A servant told me that there have been four different outbreaks of bowel illnesses in the poorer parts since I left. Four. Something has to be done to… to fix this.”

“Then what do you suggest prince Joffrey. There are alms houses and the septas and septons are of course helping to feed the poor, but maesters that will treat the ill are few and far between.”

Joffrey snorted, “The smallfolk needs a way to depend on itself, not more charity that could dry up any day.”

Lord Jon continued to look at him neutrally, clearly waiting for him to solve this problem by himself. Joffrey had noticed that ever since he had received the title of crown prince Lord Jon was no longer guiding his thinking but letting him find his own answers to problems.
He was only intervening when he felt that it would cause too much damage. Otherwise Lord Jon just supervised Joffrey when he corrected the messes he had caused and then talked with Joffrey about what had gone wrong.

Case in point. A careless remark to his sworn sword about the city guard had been picked up by a patrolling unit of Gold Cloaks which had led to somehow throwing the patrolling roster of the whole city into chaos for a couple of days. And that had just been an off-hand remark to one of his confidants not to the guards themselves. It certainly made clear how much power he had as the crown prince and how easily that power could be abused if he wasn’t careful.

When Joffrey came out of his thoughts the silence between Lord Jon and him had stretched to an uncomfortable length. His mentor was still looking at him neutrally before saying simply, “You are the crown prince, Joffrey. Taking charge of some charitable projects is more than your due. I am sure your father won’t stand against this.”

Well. That was the truth, wasn’t it. Time to do something useful with that power.

Joffrey slowly hummed before looking up again and saying firmly, “If you will excuse me, Lord Jon. I find I have another engagement.”

It was in these days that I first thought up the concept of the Royal Works, as they are called these days. At that time it was a simple refusal of accepting the state King’s Landing was in, after I had encountered the large port cities of Essos. I understood that the reason for its state was largely because of the rapid growth of its population some centuries ago, but the stench and squalor that could be encountered on each corner was unbearable to me. I simply refused to accept this status quo. So in the end of the year 295 AC I called onto the Tanner’s Guild to give my thoughts form.

296 AC King’s Landing, Tanner Guild

Joffrey looked at the 20 or so men in front of him. Those were the wealthiest and most respected tanners in King’s Landing. They were now also his business partners.

In front of them sat the just signed contract that had been drafted by Joffrey and completed by one of the scribes in Lord Jon’s retinue. In simple terms it meant that Joffrey would employ the smallfolk of King’s Landing to collect piss for the tanneries and sell it to them by the barrel. Ensuring that they always had enough ammonia at hand. In exchange Joffrey received all leather products the King’s Landing Guild produced at a 10% reduced rate. The contract was set to expire in 40 years and had a nice little exclusivity clause in it, which meant that they wouldn’t be able to buy the ammonia from anyone else who copied his idea.

For the Tanner Guild it probably looked like Joffrey was doing this mainly to get rid of the stench in the city and charged just enough to cover the pay of the smallfolk. The 10% reduction on all leather items were even an idea of the guild masters themselves. Not that Joffrey was complaining, that would certainly come in handy in the future when he had to equip an army.

Ah the rumor mill, Joffrey thought very satisfied, it was great when it worked in ones favor.

Before he had ever approached the tanners, he had let his servants circulate rumors through the whole city about how much he loathed the stench that clung to King’s Landing and was desperately trying to find a solution for it.

So when a few weeks later he had sent for the current head of the Tanner Guild and made him the offer, the guild members assumed to know the reason why he was offering them this contract.

Unbeknownst to the tanners, Joffrey should still make some profit per barrel, even after paying the smallfolk. Additionally the same workers would also collect the sh*t and transport it in wagons out of the city and to an area where it would be decomposing for a year or longer before it would be spread on the fields.

And that was where Joffrey would actually make bank. He had Crabb make inquiries in buying exhausted farmland close to the city. There were several stretches of bare earth not quite a day’s journey away from King’s Landing that the farmers had worked to death throughout the centuries, the soil was little more than dust these days. He planned to use these areas as exhibition sites. To show the farmers that sold their produce in the city how the land could be improved, and then sell the fertilizer directly to them. Joffrey figured that once word got out of the results the fertilizer would sell itself without any problems and by then his sanitation workers would be so established that other rival groups would have a hard time breaking into the market.

The nice thing about being a prince and having a good reputation was that getting the word out was as easy as mentioning it to one of the servants in passing.

Before Joffrey’s steward even had acquired the quantity of wagons that was necessary for their endeavor, all of King’s Landing had been informed about what Joffrey was intending to do. It certainly sent tongues waggling. But on the morning the first teams of sanitation collectors went from door to door, no one refused them. On the contrary, a week after the start there was already a marked difference in the worst areas of the city.

A month into the endeavor Joffrey bought a warehouse to store all the ammonia barrels that hadn’t been sold yet. And soon after a group of enterprising washerwomen approached one of Joffrey’s servants about buying ammonia from him. The servant tentatively broached the topic with Massey, who took her straight to Joffrey. A day later a shop was opened adjacent to the warehouse selling ammonia and lye products. A week later the news had circulated through all King’s Landing once again and Joffrey’s organization had another income stream and additional people employed.

By now the whole endeavor was called the Crown Prince Works and had grown so exponentially that Joffrey had handed over the day to day running of the business to a group of enterprising third and fourth sons that had been recommended by Tyrion. A necessary step, Joffrey had felt the judging glances of the nobles, especially the one of Lord Jon, who was known for looking down on merchants and money making schemes. Hypocrites the whole of them, but Joffrey knew better than to go against conventions, especially while he was still young and his power only nominal. He was well aware that his reputation would make or break him.

So the people sent by Tyrion were very much appreciated, his uncle’s comments on the other hand, he could have done without.

“Well nephew, I see your Lannister roots are showing. Your grandfather has been accused of sh*tting gold, you on the other hand will be known for turning sh*t into gold.” Tyrion quipped while he looked at him over his wine glass.

Beside him Jaime snorted into his own wine glass, Joffrey just rolled his eyes and drank his lemon water. And this was his family.

XXXXXXXXXXX

But the moment the whole endeavor became really profitable was when after a quiet suggestion from Joffrey the sanitation workers began to collect wood ash in separate barrels. Back at the warehouse they were using it to produce a variety of lye and soap products.

Joffrey had Massey pass along several scent suggestions that he knew off in his former life, as well as another good half dozen marketing strategies to sell them. Including specially carved molds. Soon there was even a research team made from several of the older washerwomen that tested new ideas and steadily refined the basic receipts of their main stock.

It killed two birds with one stone in Joffrey’s opinion. It ensured that a larger percentage of King’s Landing could now afford soap, while at the same time he massively profited from the more expensive soaps that could be mass produced at a relatively low price and exported rapidly to different ports.

On another note, he would also never run out of soap again.

Chapter 21 Chapter Text

296 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep, royal garden

“Joff! Look.” Myrcella exclaimed sweetly while she pointed at the sparrow nest in one of the old trees in the main Red Keep garden.

Joffrey turned his head over to find out what his little sister was so excited about and couldn’t help but smile.

“Looks like the mama bird is feeding her young.” He said softly and gently lifted Myrcella up on the stone banister beside the three so that she could have a better look. He made sure to keep his arms around her hips so that she wouldn’t fall.

“How many baby birds do you think she has?” Cella asked wide eyed.

“I’m not sure…” He said looking up and counting the hungry mouths demanding food “… but at least three.” before tickling her.

Cella squealed and Joffrey barely had time to gently let her down to the ground before she was already running to where their mother was resting in the shadow of an alcove listening to a lute player and drinking wine.

She looked first at Myrcella that was hiding behind her chair, still giggling uncontrollably and then at a smirking Joffrey who was walking leisurely into their direction and just shook her head at their antics.

“Myrcella, my sweet. Princesses do not hide behind chairs.” She said, while carding her hand through her daughter’s hair.

“But Joff will tickle me again!” she said high pitched, cheeks flushed with color.

“Possibly.” Joffrey agreed, very amused by how much joy Myrcella found in playing with him.

“I’m sure he won’t while I am here.” Cersei said with clear amusem*nt, “Won’t you Joffrey?”

“If mother wishes it, I suppose I could stop… for now.”

Myrcella giggled once more and then came around the table to catch Joffrey’s hand and pull him over to the area where carpets and blankets had been set out and Tommen was playing with his kitten. Joffrey had gifted the little ginger to him only a week ago and Tommen was seldom seen without it these days. He named her Bess.

Bess was currently batting at the feather Tommen was teasing her with and soon he and Myrcella were trying to see who could hold the cat’s attention the longest. Joffrey leaned back on his elbows while he watched his younger siblings play.

It had been worth rearranging his study time to set aside some hours for his siblings. Ever since becoming crown prince he had even less time for them. It unsettled him.

Not only because the thought of missing them growing up and worse, growing apart was something that didn’t sit well with Joffrey, but also because of the Queen's influence on them.

He loved his mother, Joffrey could freely admit it. He had grown to love the woman during the years he had lived in this world. Cersei Lannister had good sides no matter how she had been portrayed in his old world, but she also had no concept of moderation. And Joffrey was more than aware in what kind of disaster that could end in.

The way she overindulged her children… it was becoming worse the older they got. Joffrey was honestly afraid that no matter how sweet and kind Myrcella and Tommen currently were, with the way Cersei was encouraging the worst of their habits they would grow up into the worst sort of nobles. The ones with power and no self-restraint or care about what kind of damage their whims could cause.

Throw in some incest-based insanity and it was no wonder that the original Joffrey had turned into such a monster.

He really had to find a way to curtail her influence.

296 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s apartments

...firm hands on his hips…

Joffrey gasped and set up straight in his bed. What the…? A glance down made him groan in both embarrassment and frustration. Oh great. He had just turned 10 a few days ago, but he had been growing like crazy in the last few months. Puberty was rearing its ugly head and apparently he was due wet dreams. Just great.

Resigned Joffrey removed the soiled sheet and climbed out of his bed. He stripped out of the loose breeches that he preferred to sleep in and washed the evidence from his skin. Mind absentmindedly wandering to the aforementioned dream and froze.

That wasn’t a girl or woman that he had dreamed off. That was Loras!

Oh god, but he (and by that he meant Charles) had never been interested in men!!! Panicked Joffrey packed the soiled clothes into the chest meant for his dirtied clothes and practically fled back into bed, furiously trying to forget what had just happened.

No chance.

From that day on his hormone driven body made him notice both women and men and it was just… Charles never had any problem with gays and lesbians but he had always only been interested in girls. As Joffrey he was now noticing both sexes and was both confused and slightly alarmed. Not that he had anything against people who preferred their own sex, hell Loras and Renly were some of his closest companions that he had in this life but… well he was the crown prince. If anyone learned that he like men it could have horrible consequences for him.

At least the wet dreams and his revelation about his bisexuality hadn’t started while he was still on board of the Fury. Small mercies and all that.

It was… awkward. Until now Joffrey may have noticed when somebody was attractive but it hadn’t distracted him or influenced his actions. Now he was blushing whenever an especially pretty woman curtsied or smiled at him or a handsome man smirked at him. It was like a goddamn Pavlovian reflex. Joffrey begged whichever Gods were listening that nobody would notice his reaction to the men. He really, really didn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else.

He also didn’t appreciate the amused glances his guards shot each other whenever the blushing happened. Was he giving them too much freedom? In these moments it certainly felt like it. A curse on those damn hormones.
At least he didn’t seem to get off on pain and torture like the original Joffrey had.

And then the talk. Don’t get him started on the talk.

Somebody must have given Maester Arwick the heads up because only a day after his first wet dream Joffrey was forced to sit through the most embarrassing and at the same time confusing lecture he ever received. What medieval Westeros thought of sex and reproduction was utterly ridiculous. At least Maester Arwick was a Maester and not a Septon, and don’t even get him started on the High Septon.
Joffrey would have sunk into the floor and never come up again if he had been lectured about ‘lewd’ behavior by the old fat fossil that his mother sent him to now and then to receive absolution for his sins. He counted himself blessed that Cersei Lannister wasn’t a very pious woman and so only sent him to be absolved of his sins once or twice a year. He knew from other noble children in King’s Landing that he could have been subjected to daily praying and weekly confessions. Instead Joffrey had been mostly left alone after he had learned the prayers and how to read the Seven Pointed Star.

When he left the Maester’s rooms his head was practically smoking from all the blood that had accumulated in it.

“Clegane.” Joffrey conversationally.

“Hhhm?”

“Would you please hand me your sword so that I can run myself through with it?”

Clegane grunted amused before he growled, “Be glad that it wasn’t a septon. They would have made this even worse. If you have any questions I suggest you go to your father, he is the true master on the topic.”

Joffrey thought about this for a moment. Yeah, no.
His opinion about that piece of advice had to be blatantly obvious on his face because beside him Clegane started to chuckle amused, the f*cker.

XXXXXXXXX

To forget the humiliation and to deal with the reality that apparently he was now bisexual, Joffrey practically fled to Oak Valley Hall. Horses, hunting and finally getting to know his new household members on a more intimated level should do the trick.
Tyrion had been the right man for the job. The people that had trickled in in groups of twos and threes ever since his return, seemed to be competent enough in their tasks, trustworthy… well he would have to see.
Massey and her sisters were keeping a careful eye on them. In the first few weeks a lot of clarifications had been needed by Crabb, Massey and Clegane and certain protocols and hierarchies had to be sorted out, but most of that chaos had thankfully never reached Joffrey.

The new guards and men at arms had been put through a grueling set of martial drills by Clegane, as well as subjected to several more or less blatant loyalty tests from the rest of his original guards. Those that were not up to their exacting standards either quickly learned to keep up or found themselves without a job. A fact that was met with approval from his mother, his father and Ser Barristan. An occasion so rare that Tyrion mockingly had checked the sky for flying pigs, while Jaime just smirked knowingly at Joffrey.

In any case, all of that meant that Joffrey kept his distance while his new household members found their footing and assimilated into the group that had been watching over him for years.
In Oak Valley Hall it was far easier to converse with them. Joffrey made it a personal goal to learn as many names as possible, to establish familiarity between them. The belts with his personal emblem also helped with that, everyone from the new steward to the lowest washer woman wore them with pride. Within days he recognized a slight change in the relationship between the various members of different classes. They didn’t interact more nor did the orders change but there was a certain sense of comradery that eased the interactions and orders were phrased more politely. Ah the wonders of uniforms.

XXXXXXXX

He also finally gave the go ahead for the local stone mason, the brick layer and their people to turn the first stretch of King’s Road into actual paved road. He had let comments fall about the horrible state of the road ever so often in the last few years that his father had just shrugged his shoulders and given him permission to improve the road as much as he saw fit, as long as he did that with his own money. Though the last part was more a stipulation of Lord Arryn than his father’s, not that Joffrey had expected anything else.

The King’s Road, as well as all other ‘public’ roads in Westeros technically fell under the jurisdiction of the crown and so even if one of the Lord’s alongside said roads had a problem with Joffrey’s construction efforts they wouldn’t be able to stop him. Convenient.

For now the laborers had been charged with turning the first ten miles of the King’s road beginning from Oak Valley Hall into something Joffrey approved of. Oak Valley Hall was about 50 miles away from King’s Landing, which meant not quite four days of travel time at an average pace with most of the entourage on horses and in carts, and Joffrey really meant at optimal weather conditions. The one-time Joffrey was returning to King’s Landing during bad weather it took them nearly three times as long, to his chagrin.

The chief bricklayer estimated the construction time to be a year and a half for 10 miles with his current team of twenty-five, faster if he hired additional workers. During the last two years, he had gathered enough experience and practice on the roads that ran through Joffrey’s lands. The original paved road between the castle and the village held up beautifully and only a few parts had to be redone because of improper construction during the initial stage.

The estimated costs the small folk worker provided was about a quarter cheaper than Joffrey expected. Human labor was dirt cheap in Westeros and the various mines for the cement had agreed to further reduce prices in exchange for regular orders.

So Joffrey gave the go ahead with a few additional caveats that would hopefully stop the road crew from running into problems. He had some younger female relatives or wives of the workers come along to cook for the men. He also commissioned several large tents for them to bunk in, ensuring they were sufficiently rested and reduced the risk of them getting ill. The last precaution was a group of smallfolk guards, armed with crossbows and bows that would watch over them and patrol during the night. Joffrey wasn’t interested in losing his only road construction crew to bandits before they could pass on their knowledge to sufficient enough people.

Ser Wendwater was instructed to set aside a certain percentage of Oak Valley Hall’s revenues every year for the purpose of increasing the road crew and hopefully Joffrey wouldn’t hear about the project until they had reached King’s Landing in a few years.

Chapter 22 Chapter Text

296 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey’s return to the capital was perfectly timed with a bit of a break in the hot weather. It rained for several days, cooling down the earth and clearing away some of the last stink that still lingered in King’s Landing. No matter how much Joffrey’s action had improved the situation, as long as there was no city wide sewage system there would always be a certain stench in the air.

The cooling weather reminded Joffrey that the time until Winter came again was rapidly approaching. He wasn’t worried yet, but he knew that they were quickly entering the last years before the Long Night started all over again, and he wanted to secure at least a portion of the alliances, especially with the North and the Reach.

For years now he had been weighing the pros and cons of certain alliances. He would need the North to secure the Wall and be the first defense against the White Walkers and he needed the Reach to ensure that the kingdoms wouldn’t starve during the Long Night. Probably one of those two areas would have to be secured with his own marriage.

And then there was his own happiness. He really didn’t want some schemer trying to persuade him in this or that direction. On the other hand he also had no desire to marry a trophy wife, somebody completely submissive to him. He had to think about the generations coming after him, of his future children. What if he had a kid and got killed soon after? He didn’t want his heir to be ruled through somebody that didn’t have their best interest at heart.

Joffrey sighed deeply, leaning back and stretched his feet out in front of him while he rubbed his temples. He was developing a headache trying to think through all the possible options for a spouse that he hadn’t yet taken into account, including foreign brides from Essos. He really would have to start to compile a list, or something similar for later consideration. Personally Joffrey would like to table the topic until after the Long Night, but he got the feeling that people would try to force their own candidates onto him if war was imminent. Robert and Cersei being his most immediate concerns there, Tywin a looming third.

And there was the fact that he was apparently bisexual these days. At least he wasn’t completely uninterested in women, that would have been a fatal flaw for a crown prince that had to continue the blood line.

With another sigh he stood abruptly and walked out of his study. Clegane looked up from where he was polishing his sword.

“I need a distraction.” Joffrey grumbled, rubbing his temple to indicate his headache.

Clegane grunted and then motioned his hand to the sword stand on the far side of the room.

“You might as well go down to the armorers in the city. You have grown again. No sense practicing with a sword that is too light and short. Maybe even get used to wear armor, now that it won’t stunt you as much.”

Joffrey thought about it and then nodded, “That will certainly occupy some time.”

It took five minutes to change into a slightly sturdier overcoat and for his guard to assemble. They took an unadorned carriage, no sense in advertising that the crown prince was shopping. It was one of the more discreet of the royal carriages but people made way quickly enough.

Half an hour later Joffrey climbed out of the carriage and surveyed the upper parts of the Street of Steel. Well to do people were walking in and out of the shops lining the street.

“Where are we going?”

“To Tobho Mott.” Clegane grunted.

Perfect.

“Where have I heard that name before?” Joffrey murmured softly before answering his own question, “Right, Renly mentioned him… and so did Loras.”

Clegane snorted, “No surprise there. Both of them are dandies but not bad with a sword.”

Joffrey sent Sandor a dry look, Loras was currently earning himself a name as one of the up and coming knights of his generation, and Renly while not as interested in tourneys and warfare as his lover, was also not an opponent to be underestimated.

“So this Tobho Mott, he understands his craft then?”

“Learned in Essos. Knows how to reforge Valyrian steel.”

“Interesting…” Joffrey hummed thoughtfully.

Chapter 23 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Hedda stretched her arms over her head and then grabbed her cup of coffee. Tywin had returned from whatever important phone call he had received but Erenford was still nowhere to be found. Not that it really mattered to Hedda right now, a headache had once again set in. When she was working on something interesting, she always forgot how much of a strain decoding medieval texts were on both her eyes and mind. Right now it certainly felt like she had reached her limit for today and no matter how regretful, Hedda knew that there was no sense in forcing it, so she stood up.

Jeyne looked up from where she was assembling the first draft of Edric Storm’s life. She had found two documents that confirmed his position as well as where he was buried. Apparently his bones had been transported back to Storm’s End and he was added to the family crypt, another sign of how favored he had been.

“You feeling alright?”

“My eyes are dry and I’m trying to stave off a headache.”

Tywin winced in sympathy, Hedda knew that he himself was suffering from chronic migraines and was sometimes laid low for days. A reason why he only guest-lectured and had never taken a steady position in any of the universities of Westeros.

“Maybe we should quit for today it is already half past three and tomorrow Clegane and Prof. Meralyn will arrive, I am sure that will make things easier on you.”

Hedda nodded in agreement.

“Any ideas about what we can do for the rest of the day Jeyne?”

“Well… there is a fantasy fair in the Old Gate district. Just promise me you won’t start to fight with anyone about historical accuracy.”

Hedda smirked at her friend, “As long as it is called a fantasy fair and not a medieval fair, I have no complains whatsoever.”

It would be a nice break from staring at medieval font. She also was suddenly in need of something spectacular unhealthy, food wise. A fantasy fair should have what she needed.

“Let’s go.”

Tywin hummed in agreement.

296 AC King’s Landing, Street of Steel, Tobho Mott’s shop

The next time Joffrey visited the forge the shards had been molten down and shaped into two rather small blades. One had now a dull sheen while the other was greyer. Both were more resistant against a fall from the table than the original.

Joffrey hummed thoughtfully and listened to Gendry’s nervous explanation about tempering and compressing the material.

And this was new. Last time Joffrey had talked with Gendry he hadn’t been this nervous. Excited, yes and maybe a bit intimidated because of Joffrey’s status but not… terrified. As if he expected a blow from Joffrey at any minute.

He listened patiently until Gendry was done explaining the minute detail of his work as well as the caution about how too many falls could still weaken the knives until it shattered.

Joffrey then lifted the greyer version and held it against the fire shine of the forge to their left. The form was not unlike a small modern kitchen knife and would be perfect for dressing smaller woodland creatures.

“I’m impressed that you were able to make two knives out of the material. I also like the shape of the grip better.”

Gendry bowed stiffly, still nervous but slowly getting better.

“I have also sent for additional material from Dragonstone. I’m curious if there are other uses for dragonglass. Also here.” Joffrey said idly and handed over a coin pouch with 30 gold dragons, “Use that for any additional materials or tools that you need for your craft.”

“Your highness, that’s too much money. I’m just an apprentice.” Gendry panicked.

“Maybe for now, but not for long. Not with that kind of talent. I can see the helmets and breastplates you are working on…”

“I still can’t accept it. Your highness, that is too much money.” Gendry kept stubbornly insisting, again there was an edge of panic in his voice.

Joffrey sighed and glanced over where Clegane was standing at the far end of the forge, keeping an eye on Joffrey, but well out of listening distance. Joffrey had sent him away the moment Gendry had started to stutter, at first suspecting his sworn sword as the cause of his fear.

“You are scared of me.” He said softly, “You weren’t last time. What happened? Has somebody told you I would somehow punish you if you displease me?”

Gendry hunched into himself and cast wary looks at Joffrey.

“Your highness…”

“Joffrey.” Joffrey countered stubbornly, he was done with this farce. Who the hell had been destroying his reputation to Gendry, and why? “You are my half-brother Gendry, the least that you could do is look me in the eyes and call me by my name when we are alone.”

The part of being half-siblings was maybe a bit too hasty, but Joffrey was done with playing dumb. He needed for their relationship to advance if he wanted any chance of keeping Gendry at his side and away from anyone who could use him.

Silence… and then Gendry slowly relaxed.

“You know.” He said softly.

“That you are one of my father’s natural children? Yes, of course. You have his look. I knew the moment I saw you in your master’s shop. In fact you look exactly like our younger half-brother Edric in Storm’s End.”

“I… wasn’t sure you knew… and I didn’t the first time we met… trueborns are always wary of bastards. The royal family should be doubly so.”

Joffrey hummed, that was true enough.

“I suppose. Though forgive me Gendry but I don’t see you rising against me and Tommen in a new version of the Blackfyre rebellion.”

Gendry looked so horrified, Joffrey burst out laughing before he smirked, “Yes, I thought not.” Then he became more serious again, “Look, I am well aware of my father’s proclivities. We have a handful of half-siblings according to our uncle Renly. I… well I am not happy that he keeps on shaming my mother, but that really is not your fault, is it?”

Gendry nodded and then smiled tentatively at Joffrey, “I really can’t accept 30 gold dragons, it would just get stolen. Give me 5 at most at a time for materials.”

Joffrey bit his lip and sighed, “All right, but you will tell me if you need money.”

“I… why? Why are you doing this?”

Gendry managed to sound timid and suspicious at the same time.

Joffrey stared at him before he said, “You really do have talent, I didn’t lie about that. Having a skilled armorer in my acquaintance that is predisposed to taking my commissions over others would be a boon… but… you are right, my main motivation in giving you the dragonglass was to get to know you… I’m the oldest legitimate heir of our father… even if he doesn’t do anything, I think it’s my duty to look out for my siblings.”

“Even the bastard ones?” Gendry said somewhat sarcastically.

“Especially those without additional protection. Edric is safe and well cared for in Storm’s End, additionally he is also the only one that was recognized by my father. Our eldest sister Mya, lives in the Vale and according to Lord Arryn, she is well cared for as well. You are the first that I have run across in King’s Landing though.”

Gendry just continued to stare at him for a long time then he sighed, shoulder slumped, “Alright.”

“Alright? So you will come to me if you need anything?”

Gendry looked reluctant and vaguely pained, but he nodded slowly, “ I suppose so.”

Joffrey smirked at him and Gendry finally smiled back. The rest of the time Gendry talked about his apprenticeship by Tobho Mott, that started back in 290 AC, his tasks and that he was maybe 2-3 years away from becoming a journeymen.

Once Joffrey was back in the carriage Clegane stared at him.

“Contacting your father’s bastards, eh?”

Joffrey glanced at him and shrugged his shoulders, “I would like to avoid anything close to a Baratheon version of the Blackfyre rebellions, thank you very much. My father is the first of our line and there are still too many Targaryen loyalists around. Somebody could get the idea of using them against me. I prefer to know where they are and who has a hold over them.”

Clegane grunted and let the topic drop.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey could hear the screaming of his brother from nearly four hallways away. It was a long litany of No’s, which was the only reason why Joffrey was walking at a brisk pace and not outright running.

He turned around the corner and found his brother, who was lying on the ground and was throwing the fit of the century. A servant and two Lannister handmaidens trying to calm him down.

“Tommen!” Joffrey called the moment his brother to take a deep breath of air to continue.

Tommen’s head whipped around, his face was completely red and there were tears in his big green eyes.

“Joffrey!” He wailed and then scrambled up from the floor to throw himself at his older brother.

Joffrey obligingly caught him and lifted him up into his arm.

“What is the matter, Tommen?”

“Tell them no. Joffrey, I don’t want, I don’t want. Mother said I don’t need to.”

“What do you not want Tommen?” Joffrey asked softly, gently rocking his brother from side to side.

“Lessons.” He whined, “I want to play with Myrcella or with Bess! I don’t want to read and Mother said I don’t have to!”

He was working himself up again.

Joffrey hummed and continued to rock him gently back and forth until his breathing had calmed down again and he was burying his wet face in Joffrey’s neck.

“You know, I had to learn to read as well Tommen.”

“You had to?” he asked plaintively.

“Yes. How do you think I am able to read stories to you and Myrcella?”

Silence. It seemed as Tommen hadn’t thought about that.

“Stories?” he asked softly.

“Yes. And I also practiced so that I could write letters to you, Myrcella and Mother and Father while I was away with uncle Stannis.”

Tommen wiped his wet eyes and stared up at Joffrey and said still dismayed, “But I want to play with Myrcella.”

“And you can, but not now. Myrcella has her own lessons, remember? She started to learn her letters a few months before you.”

Tommen once more buried his head against his shoulder. Joffrey sighed softly and pressed a kiss in his blonde curls.

“Come, I will take you to your lessons and sit in for today.”

Tommen grumbled, but didn’t protest anymore.

The servant and the two handmaidens curtsied to him before they followed him into the rooms where Maester Ulrick was already waiting anxiously. The poor man must have heard Tommen screaming through half of the castle. Joffrey suspected that only his sense of propriety had stopped him from opening the door and trying to calm Tommen down himself.

Thankfully there was no other incident and after Tommen had bravely sat through his lessons and even answered most of his questions correctly, Joffrey took him down to the kitchens to get a small treat for him.

During all this Joffrey was contemplating a way to circumvent his mother’s bad influence on his siblings without showing his hand too early.

He would have to talk to Myrcella about her lessons as well. Find out how far she was along and what she was lacking because of Cersei’s arrogance. She would be 7 in another year and officially introduced to court. After that she would be invited to various noble children’s name day parties as he had been. He might need to arrange a visit from Renly for that exact purpose and maybe arrange for an independent etiquette teacher for her.

Chapter 24 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Old Gate, Fantasy Fair

Hedda contentedly munched on her apple turnover while her eyes wandered between the various stands selling fan memorabilia, food or miscellaneous things.

As far as she had seen it was a predominantly Tolkien-esque fair. Lots of elves, dwarves and hobbits running around. She had even seen a human Smaug. The costumes were also so-so to an astonishing high quality. Not that she was surprised, the larger cities always had the better fantasy communities.

Somewhere to her left was a group of teenagers hotly debating the origin of the universe before sequencing into various other topics. Hedda listened amused as they nearly broke into a fistfight about the architectural inspiration about the Tolkien elven kingdoms.

“That reminds me of some of our congresses.” Tywin said dryly from behind her.

“Exactly my thought as well.” Hedda grinned, then she noticed the poster that advertised a life re-enactment in 20 minutes.

“Oh, let’s go there!” Jeyne murmured happily, having noticed it around the same time.

Hedda nodded and then looked closer at the text and noticed the triangle pointing down.

“Wait, they have a hydromancer in the show?”

“Huh?” Jeyne asked and turned back to the poster, looking closer now, “Looks like it… though I’m a bit surprised, those aren’t cheap and hiring one for just an reenactment? Normally these kinds of fairs are run on a pretty tight budget.”

“It’s probably an apprentice or journeyman, the university dormers aren’t far away, students always need cash… or maybe it’s even voluntary. Being a Water Mage doesn’t exclude being a Tolkien fan.” Tywin interjected.

Jeyne nodded thoughtfully and then began to march in the direction of the show.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Maegor’s Holdfast, the King’s apartments

It was a couple of weeks after his return from Oak Valley Hall when Joffrey finally got an opportunity to maneuver the people around him into the direction he wanted. His goal - A visit to Winterfell.
Joffrey had decided that he somehow had to visit the North, preferably also the Wall and get to know the Starks before the Others returned to Westeros and attacked. He needed to build a rapport with them so that they would be inclined to listen to him if worse came to worse. Especially if he decided against choosing Sansa as his Queen.

Also, foreknowledge or not, Joffrey had never been further North than Oak Valley Hall. He didn’t know the lands close to the Wall and how the weather conditions were, what the people up there did to make a living. If he wanted to survive The Long Night and rule Westeros as king he needed to find a way to get as many people as possible through the winter so when Daenerys finally came knocking the people would be loyal to him.

The opportunity was given to him by Lord Jon himself. One of his lessons had ended with the old Arryn expressing some concern about Joffrey’s tendency to avoid nobles his age and all the connections he was not forming. Joffrey couldn’t have asked for better bait.

“Father?” Joffrey asked after their training.

“Hhm?”

“According to Lord Arryn I have progressed further in my book studies than what is expected of me at this age but that I am behind in the social aspects of my education…”

Robert raised an eyebrow at that but only motioned with a hand to go on, while the other poured some sour red into his glass.

“A son of a Lord Paramount would have met other young lords by now and maybe even fostered together with them… my stay with uncle Stannis afforded me to meet with some nobles in the Stormlands but that is only a small part of the kingdom… also it is expected that in only a few years I take companions into my service. Young lords and second sons that will accompany me… how can I choose when I haven’t met most of the nobles in the kingdom?”

Robert looked unconcerned about Joffrey’s statement, “I don’t really see the problem, but you have clearly given this a lot of thought. Spit it out boy, what is your solution?”

“I want to take something of an early lord’s progress through Westeros.”

Robert opened his mouth.

“Not alone, of course.” Joffrey hastily added, “I was actually hoping that you would accompany me? I have been away for months while learning under uncle Stannis and I would rather like to spend time with you while at the same time get to know the other nobles.”

Robert huffed thoughtfully at that, “That’s actual not a bad idea boy. I haven’t been out of King’s Landing since the Greyjoy rebellion. Jon can take care of the day to day business for a year or more without my input. Now that money situation is nearly fixed, he ought to agree. Your reasoning is also sound, as future king you should get to know your lords, make alliances and take on some young knights. My time in the Vale was the best of my life… and I did want you to be fostered with Ned but your mother screeched about it until I put the idea aside. So this will have to do… you know what, the more I think about it, the better I like it. I will inform Jon about my decision tomorrow. He should be understanding enough if he was the one who brought up the concern about your social obligations.”

At the last part Robert smirked and clapped Joffrey on the shoulder.

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Joffrey didn’t know what was said in private between Lord Jon and Robert but in the end the Lord Hand agreed, though only with several important caveats. One was that the progress had to be announced at least a year prior the actual event to give the Lords and Ladies ample time to prepare themselves. The other was that there would be a fixed budget and timetable for the progress, and there would be no spontaneous deviations from it. Lord Jon feared, rightfully so, that such a tour would once again throw the realm into debt if Robert wasn’t reigned in from the beginning. Especially when he wasn’t able to follow along and moderate the king in his spending.

It took a week from the day Joffrey had talked with Robert about the topic, to the day ravens were sent out to the Westerlands, Riverlands, the Vale and the North. It was announced as a Northern Progress, a diplomatic way of placating the Reach, the Stormlands, Dorne and the Iron Islands and implying that there would be another one coming, someday.

Not that Joffrey thought that Dorne or the Iron Islands had any interest in hosting the royal party, other than to murder them, but appearances had to be adhered to.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Maegor’s Holdfast, hallway

With the royal progress announced Joffrey knew that his opportunity to take out Baelish in a timely manner was shrinking with each day. So he began to pay extra attention to where and when Baelish was. The master of Coin hadn’t any predictable routine you could pin him too, but there were two constants that didn’t seem to change too much. Every other week Baelish took a personal afternoon to visit the various establishments that belonged to him and he returned late to the Red Keep. The other was that he regularly visited Lord Jon’s office for ‘advise’ or reports, interrupting Joffrey’s lessons and Jon’s work. Baelish was also partial to snacks if offered casually, more than once he had taken a pastry if Lord Jon or even Joffrey had offered it to him. Slowly an idea began to form in Joffrey’s mind.

Because he didn’t want to risk poisoning Lord Jon on accident he began to develop a habit of visiting the kitchen late in the evening. Often just to pick up some of the tarts, both savory and sweet left from the day. He was constantly hungry and it was a good excuse for his late night excursions through the Keep. Sometimes he even went without any of his guards. A risky business ordinarily, but Joffrey had no other choice.

He had taken to carry a few drops of the poison in a small flask that sat well cushioned in his coin pouch. The bottle of Tears of Lys had come with very specific instructions concerning the storage and dosage of the poison. A single drop would cause the effect he wished for, while three drops would ensure that the victim would die within a day.

While Joffrey waited for an opportune moment to slip Baelish the poison he had taken to always poison the top most pastry or food item that he carried when he knew that Baelish had left for his holdings. If his nightly wanderings didn’t yield an encounter with the Master of Coin he threw said pastry down his privy.

And then one night Joffrey found an opportunity.

“Isn’t it a bit late my prince? And where is your guard?” the jovial voice of Baelish echoed through the otherwise dark hallway.

Joffrey looked up and grinned at the Master of Coin, “I could say them same to you Lord Baelish… I was feeling restless and made a trip to the kitchens. My guards are sleeping most likely, this is the innermost of the Red Keep so I feel save enough without them.”

“Hhm, are those raspberry pies?” Baelish asked considering the sweets on Joffrey’s plate.

Joffrey laughed at that and wordless held out the plate to him, Baelish allowed himself a somewhat sincere smile and picked the top three cakes and stacked them on one hand.

“Do try to find some sleep, my prince, otherwise the council session tomorrow will prove to be rather long.”

“I will try, goodnight Lord Baelish.”

“Goodnight, prince Joffrey.”

Joffrey refused to feel guilty and just continued walking until he had reached the uppermost balcony. From experience he knew that Ser Barristan liked to pass it several times when he was on night patrol and he needed an alibi.

It was warm enough tonight that he didn’t need additional layers and so he let his feet dangle between the balustrade and enjoyed the fresh breeze that came up from the sea below him.

He took several sips of the mead and ate one of the pastries before he was discovered by Ser Barristan Selmy.

“My prince.”

It was always astonishing to Joffrey how Ser Barristan could make a greeting into a scolding.

“Ser Barristan.” He said with a small smile, “Will you join me? I felt restless tonight.”

“You really should be in bed prince Joffrey, where are your guards and Clegane?”

“Sandor is hopefully still sleeping, he tends to be rather easy to wake. Do not blame my guards, they are fulfilling their duties and watching the entrances to my quarters, I just took one of the hidden passages down to the kitchens. And before you ask, they only open one way so I am still perfectly save in my rooms.”

“My prince, may I remind you that you are not currently in your rooms…”

“You are here now, are you not? Pastry?” Joffrey said with an impish grin and held out the pastry dish.

Barristan sighed but set his sword aside and joined Joffrey on the stone floor. His bones were creaking, he really was getting old, wasn’t he? Gamely the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard took a pastry and a sip of the mead that Joffrey held out.

“You have a council session tomorrow.”

“Hhhm, I do. Something about the merchant guild and the new Essos tariffs if I remember correctly.” Here Joffrey let out a deep sigh, “Thank all the gods that we paid off the debt to the Iron Bank faster than expected… I still do not know what father was thinking.”

Barristan kept his mouth shut, but the way his lips quirked grimly Joffrey could imagine that he too wasn’t impressed by Robert’s spending.

Chapter 25 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Old Gate, Fantasy Fair

They were showing the journey from the Shire to Rivendell and Tywin had been right, it was clearly a student production, the logo of the university on one of the banners to the left of the stage. Hedda was impressed by their content choice, the horse chase would certainly not be easy to translate onto a stage.

The stage was set up rather cleverly with minimal props behind the small stream that was part of the Old Gate park. Beautifully colored backdrops that appeared from below the stage or were turned around to signal a scene change. The actors moved from one side of the stage to the other and every time they vanished behind the partition the next scene began. The climax was without a doubt when Arwen enchanted the river and the water rose and solidified between the two groups of actors. Hedda couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration at how lifelike the water horses looked that stopped the Nazgul horde from reaching Arwen and Frodo. The final scene was Frodo’s reunion with his friends in Rivendell.

The whole time an orchestra of seven musicians accompanied the scenes with fitting music and Hedda was pretty sure that they were students as well.

By the time the whole production team had gathered on the stage thundering applause could be heard from all sides. The performance had drawn quite a large group and was met with enthusiastic approval from all sides.

“Oh.” Jeyne said suddenly and pointed at one of the girls on the stage, “That’s Sara, she works for us at the Red Keep.”

Jeyne waited until said girl had exited the stage before hollering over the people that were still between them and her, “SARA!”

The young woman turned around and lit up, “Dr. Jeyne!”

Hedda was pretty sure that this Sara was the one that had been introduced as the director and screenplay writer.

“Hello Sara. I wasn’t aware that you were part of the Old Gate fair!” Jeyne called out when they were close enough.

The young woman laughed, “I always had a soft spot for the Tolkien books and a friend of mine sits on the committee and asked me if I was interested to do something with our theater group.”

“Hedda. This is Sara Black, one of our part-time guides at the Red Keep. Sara, this is Dr. Hedda Barath, she is currently working on a translation for us and this is Dr. Tywin Redwyne, who is assisting her.”

“Oh. Yes I heard about that! It’s nice to meet you Dr. Barath, Dr. Redwyne.”

Tywin just nodded in acknowledgement before slowly wandering over to the stage to take a closer look at the backdrops.

“You too, Miss Black.” Hedda returned, “It was a pretty impressive display. Both acting wise as well as the magic displayed.”

“Thank you! I wrote the script with Susan over there, she played Arwen. The whole production team is studying performing arts and it will get us some extra credit.” The young woman said cheerfully.

Then she introduced the olive skinned water mage that had been introduced under roaring applause.

“And this is Mariah, she has generously agreed to help us enhance the performance. Mari, this is Dr. Jeyne Marsha, one of historians I work with at the Red Keep and her friend Dr. Hedda Barath.”

The young woman, Mariah, was clearly of Dornish decent and was visibly amused at the excitement of her taller friend.

“Mariah Sandwind, pleased to meet you.” She introduced herself with a smile while beside her Sara quickly ensnared Jeyne in a conversation about their theater group.

In unspoken agreement Hedda and Mariah wandered some steps away to leave them to their discussion.

“Are you part of the Kingswood Guild? I have to say the water horses were very impressive.” Hedda asked interested.

Mariah laughed, “I am not officially affiliated. I am here on exchange from the Greenblood Guild. I met Sara and Susan in my theater elective and they convinced me to take part in this production.”

“Ah.” Hedda nodded, “Are you planning to go into the film and theater industry then?”

Mariah smiled back, clearly happy to talk about her talent and future plans.

“Yes, I think so. It wasn’t what I had in mind when I started with the Guild. You see my parents own an irrigation company in Salt Shore. When it became apparent that I had talent in hydromancy I enrolled in the Greenblood Guild so that we can expand our services… but the longer I study it, the more I am drawn to the artistic side of hydromancy. My parents aren’t happy about that but my younger brother is also showing the same talent and has just started with the Guild so I think they will get over it eventually.”

Hedda hummed in understanding. Now Mariah’s presence made more sense, because while there were a handful of hydromancers in the Crownlands, the majority of the Elemental mages were more focused on fire and earth and tended to work closely with the national guard or military. Dorne on the other hand, and more importantly the Greenblood Guild, was famous for their hydromancers and the disaster relief programs for drought stricken areas around the world.

“I am sure they will. It’s not like you cannot work in both areas, right?”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Mariah beamed, “Once I have passed my journeyman exams I plan to work for my parents’ company and also try my luck with the film industry. From the conversations I had with the professors here, there are always film sets in need of mages for special effects and they are willing to pass along my contact details to anyone who is interested.”

“So how long until your journeyman exams?”

“Another year or so, I think. I already fulfill most of the requirements in the practical areas but I need a few additional mage-history courses as well as some more electives to qualify. And with my interest in the performance arts the masters at Sunspear thought that an exchange semester here would be a good idea.”

“Once you have graduated you might also think about applying for jobs in Essos and the Summer Isles, maybe even Sothoryos or Yi Ti. It would be a day or two by plane at most and a lot of people speak Valyrian these days, do they not? Their film industries are certainly different but from what I know about film schedules, they are always compressed as tightly as possible no matter the country or continent. So if you are gone only a few weeks at a time, it should be possible for your parents to schedule jobs around that, right?”

Mariah beamed at that but before she could say anything Sara was back, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we have to prepare for the next show.”

“Thank you for indulging me Mariah. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you, Dr. Barath! Enjoy the rest of the fair.” The Dornish woman called over her shoulder before she and Sara vanished in the crowd.

“Well that was a nice surprise.” Jeyne said thoughtfully.

Hedda could only nod, then she side-eyed her friend, “You are already planning for them to give a performance at the next Red Keep festival, aren’t you.”

“It’s like you know me.” Jeyne said with a grin.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

The council meeting on the following day began at the normal time and the first thing Lord Jon asked was, “Does anyone know what could be delaying Lord Baelish?”

Everybody denied any knowledge.

“Hanrick, go to Lord Baelish’s rooms please.” Lord Jon ordered, voice as calm as ever.

The Arryn servant bowed and vanished, only to return twenty minutes later, bowing politely to the council.

“Lord Baelish has a sickness of the stomach, the maester is currently visiting.”

Several people raised their eyebrows but Lord Jon only nodded in thanks.

“Hopefully this is just a passing malady. We will postpone matters concerning revenues for now.”

And with that the matter was closed and the council session continued as usual.

Two days later they were informed that Lord Baelish had developed a dangerous high fever and the Grandmaester was not sure if he would survive.

“Lord Baelish is very ill in the bowels.” Joffrey said slowly, as if to sound out the concept, before asking, “How could that happen? He eats the same things as the rest of the Keep.”

“I do not know my prince, but the Grandmaester is doing his utter most.” Ser Barristan said grimly.

“I just saw him the day before he fell ill… right before you found me.” Joffrey added absentminded.

There was no sense in denying that, if somebody of the servants saw them it would be suspicious if he didn’t report that.

Ser Barristan looked up, now even grimmer, “And you are feeling well my prince? No ache in the belly or a sense of unwellness?”

Joffrey shook his head, “I feel fine. Nevertheless, I will ask the Grandmaester to take a look at me. Hopefully whatever Baelish has is not contagious and will heal quickly.”

That had even sounded sincere, Joffrey honestly couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he had become such a good liar.

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement before he absentmindedly asked, “About your encounter with Lord Baelish. Does anything unusual come to mind when you think back?”

Joffrey thought about it, did something unusual happen?

“Not that I can think of. He caught me on my way back from the kitchens. He enquired after my guards, as you did and then advised me to get some rest before the council meeting today.”

Ser Barristan nodded, but kept quiet for the rest of the walk.

When they arrived at Joffrey’s apartments, the old Kingsguard had a quick word with the guards standing outside the entrance while he slipped inside.

A handful moments later Sandor walked into Joffrey’s solar, a grim expression on his face.

“You were in the kitchens three days ago?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I was hungry and did not want to wake anyone. I used one of the hidden passages.”

Sandor nodded but didn’t look happy, there was a moment of silence before he said, “Next time, wake me up.”

Joffrey sighed, “Very well, I will.”

Not like he intended to sneak out in the next weeks and months. With Baelish gone his next target was Varys, but the eunuch could wait for now. Additionally Joffrey had no intentions of using poison against that man.

Lord Petyr Baelish died on the eight day after becoming sick, hallucinating and with a high fever.
Pycelle or better said Master Colemon, who was caring for the ill Master of Coin on Lord Jon’s command, could do nothing but give him pain-relieving potions. The Grandmaester had chosen to not enter the sick rooms of Lord Baelish once he had diagnosed him with a variety of the bloody flux.

Joffrey heard through Massey that the servants had been instructed to burn his bedding and the clothes that had been used by him in his last week. His personal quarters would also be cleaned thoroughly and everyone that was in close contact with him was quarantined for some days. Joffrey himself had already been declared healthy after he did not show any signs of sickness.

The quarantine was observed rather strictly once Robert heard about the matter and how the sickness could have potentially struck Joffrey. The king blew a gasket in the Small Council chamber, and only Pycelle’s repeated reassurance that Joffrey was well seemed to calm him down.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Joffrey was reading through a treatise of the Blackfyre Rebellions when Hilda, one of his handmaids hastily entered his solar and curtsied deeply.

“Well?”

“Ill news, my lord. There is talk that Lady Arryn threw herself off the Hand’s Tower… and she apparently took the little lord with her.”

Joffrey absentmindedly noted how quick Hilda had picked up the servant accent of the Red Keep, she really had a gift for imitation. Then Joffrey’s hands grew slack when he registered what she had just said and the book slowly slipped out of his grasp.

“The servants are also saying that she was cuckolding Lord Arryn with Lord Baelish and couldn’t live without him.” She hastily added.

“Gods be damned. Send out everyone not on duty and quiet that rumor. Threaten them if needed. Where is Lord Jon?”

How did that happen??? Lysa’s and Robyn’s death hadn’t been in his plans. Robyn was just four name days old, he was a year younger than Tommen.

Hilda could only shrug helplessly.

“Never mind, you did well. Tell Massey to get a grip on the common Red Keep servants but to leave the personal servants of my parents alone. This better not leave the castle. Clegane we are going to the Tower of the Hand.” Joffrey said grimly while he hastily slipped into a more subdued doublet, there was no need to appear garish.

Sandor was already standing at the door.

Chapter 26 Chapter Text

286 AC was an ill year for the Hand of the King. At the age of 78 name days he lost his lady wife Lysa Tully and their only son Lord Robert Arryn, nicknamed Robyn to an accident. Lady Lysa lost her balance while carrying the only four name days old Robert and both fell from the south balcony of the Tower of the Hand.

I only met Lady Arryn a handful of times and had seen Robyn even less, so I could not tell you anything of importance even if I wanted to, but I grieved the loss Lord Jon felt. Throughout his life he now had lost three wives and four children. With Robyn’s death Harold Hardyng, his nephew through his younger sister Alys, was once more the heir to the Vale.

Their death followed just days after the passing of the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish, who had died of the bloody flux after a visit to the city. Many of the nobles read ill portents in these deaths and rumors circulated through the city that they were only foreshadowing a larger calamity.

For me that was just the ill-done talk of the frightened masses but my mother was less sure. She kept my younger siblings even closer to her side and sent servants to inquire regularly about my health.

Knowing her temperament she would have liked to send me additional guards and servants for my household but my uncle, Ser Jaime, was thankfully able to talk her out of it.

In any case, the death of both Lady Arryn, as well as the legitimate heir to the Vale required more than a funeral in King’s Landing. Their remains needed to be escorted to the Eyrie, where they would join all the other Arryn’s before them. I also suspected that Lord Jon felt pressed to consolidate his power in the Vale and settle the succession.

My father reluctantly allowed it, he had grown very accustomed to Lord Jon running the kingdom for him, and the prospect of having to deal with whiny nobles for weeks on end did not appeal to him. I even suspect that had a I been slightly older, he would have handed me the position of temporal Hand to me. Not that I totally escaped taking action. A rather… peculiar problem fell directly into my lap only days after Lord Jon had left King’s Landing.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey sighed deeply, he was exhausted from the events of the last days and he felt guilty. He may have not intended the death of Lysa and Robyn, but he killed Baelish which was the trigger for Lysa. Joffrey really should have thought more carefully about what that would do to the mad Tully daughter. It wouldn’t have stopped his actions, Baelish needed to go, but it wouldn’t have cost him much to have the Lady Arryn watched.

Lord Jon had practically aged 20 years in the four days since his mad wife had killed herself and their four year old son. It was an awful affair trying to make sense of why she had done it.
Thankfully there had been no concrete evidence that she had an affair with Baelish. Instead Lord Jon thought that she was just upset about the death of an old friend and then lost her balance. A tragic accident according to Pycelle.

At least Joffrey hoped that Lord Jon thought that. In any case, it didn’t make it easier to watch him as he had to write letters to his in-laws as well as his banner men about the death of his wife and child. He looked defeated and tired, not at all like the powerful Lord Hand, Protector of the Vale.

When he announced that he would accompany their bodies to the Eyrie, Joffrey wasn’t surprised but it was far from ideal in the current situation. At least they all agreed to postpone any and all Small Council Meetings until Lord Jon returned from his journey to the Vale.

Joffrey stood beside Robert while they watched the Arryn party leave the Red Keep, the two caskets adorned with Arryn cloaks that contained the bones of Lysa and Robyn in the middle. Joffrey was really glad that Baelish bones had been sent to his keep by ship a day before and wouldn’t travel with the Arryn party.

“What a f*cking mess.” Robert grunted out.

And Joffrey could only nod in silence.

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

After the rather enjoyable afternoon at the Old Gate fantasy fair Hedda and Jeyne called it quits sometime before seven and returned to Jeyne’s apartment to get a full night of sleep. With their colleagues arriving soon, they wanted to start bright and early to get some work done.

Hedda once again read the sentence she had translated some moments ago.

Lady Lysa lost her balance while carrying the only four name days old Robert and both fell from the south balcony of the Tower of the Hand.

“I have been in the Tower before. I don’t know… this sounds… well I can’t put my finger on it, but it sounds… wrong.” She said to Jeyne, who read the passage over her shoulder.

“The south balcony… let me call up the information we have on it.” Jeyne said before she opened the Red Keep intranet and searched for the Tower of the Hand.

Soon there were several images about the various renovations and changes throughout the centuries.

“Hhm, it looks like the south balcony wasn’t changed since the initial construction of the Tower, only some repairs of the stone work.”

Hedda nodded, “Do you see what I mean. The balustrade is what, a bit over hip high for you? You are about the average size for women at that time. Even if she lost her balance, the balustrade should have stopped any kind of fall. Or at least slowed her down enough for a servant to hear her scream and help her. Don’t you think?”

Jeyne hummed thoughtfully, “So you think Joffrey is lying?”

“Not necessarily. Remember Joffrey is what, 10 years old at the time? If that’s the official story he was told I don’t think he would have investigated or even thought about it.”

…I only met Lady Arryn a handful of times and had seen Robyn even less…

“This passage here sums it up perfectly. He didn’t know them, so why wouldn’t he take this tragic accident as a fact… but Jeyne, I don’t think that this was what happened.”

“So you think she was pushed?”

“I cannot tell you … it’s just a feeling for now…I get those sometimes when a narration doesn’t quite… fit.” Hedda said softly.

Jeyne shrugged her shoulders, “It’s certainly something we could look into at a later date.”

…Their death followed just days after the passing of the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish…

“Another death.” Jeyne said thoughtfully, “Though not an uncommon one. Bloody flux, that’s dysentery right? It happened, even to nobles. Especially in a cesspit like King’s Landing.”

“The Master of Coin is an important position, that must have been a blow to the court… wait, didn’t Tywin say that he was a ward of Riverrun when he researched the Small Council around that time? Lysa and Petyr… they probably grew up together…” Hedda said slowly.

“And? He died of a disease and she days later from a fall… wait… do you think she killed herself and her son after his death. An affair?”

Hedda snorted dryly, “That’s just conjecture Jeyne… on the other hand, Jon Arryn was 66 to her 18 when they married. She couldn’t have been happy about that… and then she had trouble conceiving. Though not surprising with Lord Arryn’s age.”

Jeyne hummed thoughtfully and then opened the online version of Lineages, after a few moments of searching she said, “I found him. Petyr Baelish was the last of his House… Cause of death… the bloody flux.” Jeyne said, before she snorted loudly, “Oh man. You have got to see this!”

PETYR BAELISH, first of his name, born to YORBERT BAELISH and ALAYNE BAELISH in the year 268 after Aegon’s Conquest. Black of hair, brown of eyes. Named Master of Coin in the year 292 after Aegon’s Conquest. Died in the year 296 after Aegon’s Conquest on the bloody flux. Traitor to the Interests of the Crown. The Last of his House.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, the King’s apartments

With the Master of Coin dead and no successor chosen yet, the daily tasks of the office should have fallen under Robert’s purview. Of course the King had no interest in dealing with copper counting as he called it, but it was important. Joffrey needed Robert to take this seriously, especially with Lord Jon not here to keep all those greedy nobles in check. He probably overdid it, because with an annoyed hand gesture Robert said briskly, “Then you do it.”

“I… what?” Joffrey asked flabbergasted, staring in shock at his father and then behind him at Ser Barristan and Jaime.

“You do it. You are the crown prince. Find some people who know that stuff and go over the books.”

“Father…”

“I don’t want to hear about it until its finished. Go.”

So Joffrey went. Suddenly in charge of the treasury and overseeing the office of Master of Coin.

The first thing he did after returning to his quarters was to take several fortifying sips of the barely alcoholic Reacher mead that Loras had gifted to him. He was in the middle of his third glass when he heard the door behind him open, and his uncle was announced.

Tyrion sipped from his own bottle of wine and the resigned acceptance on his face was in no way encouraging. For a moment Joffrey was irritated about how quickly his uncle had apparently been informed of his new task, and then he recognized the wine bottle. It was a particularly expensive Harbor Gold with which Jaime liked to bribe his younger brother. The Kingsguard had probably sent a Lannister servant with a message the moment Robert’s attention wandered.
So maybe his family life was complicated, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate their good intentions.

Together Tyrion and Joffrey organized scribes and counters and ordered a full audit of the treasury and all the books of the Master of Coin, going back the last 5 years, further back than Baelish’ four-year tenure. Tyrion had also sent out a couple of ravens, probably arranging for additional reinforcement from the army of Lannister accountants they were related to.

When Joffrey had the Keeper of the Keys called to his rooms and showed them the royal decree his father had sent as an afterthought, more than one showed visibly signs of nervousness. Joffrey just knew that it would be a trying couple of weeks. Tyrion’s dry suggestion to double the number of guards only strengthened that believe.

Chapter 27 Chapter Text

1857 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

“What does this mean, Traitor to the Interest of the Crown. I am not sure that I have ever heard that phrase. Only High Treason.”

Hedda hummed thoughtfully, “It was rather popular under the Targaryen Kings and before the different crimes were codified more thoroughly. It could mean many things, the phrase is vague for a reason. The Targaryen’s used it to get rid of well-connected or too powerful nobles, for theft against the crown or whatever else they deemed it. It’s not High Treason though. So no assassination attempts or an attempt to dethrone the Baratheon line. I think… I mean he was the Master of Coin.”

“So stealing money then?” Jeyne asked with a dry tone.

“Probably. Though… it must have been a lot of money otherwise they would have just let it go. Let the dead rest and all that.”

“Do you think Lysa knew something and that’s why she was either murdered or killed herself?”

“Honestly Jeyne, I cannot tell you. We can speculate all we want, but there is too little information to come to a conclusion. Why the interest so suddenly?”

“She seems tragic to me. A Tully daughter sold to an old man to secure an alliance during the war… and when she finally has the living son after nearly 10 years of trying, they both die mysteriously. Only for some vague hints about a possible affair with her childhood friend to be left behind. Who was she as a person? Who did she love? Why did she have to die?”

Hedda side eyed her, “I see you have found the storyline for your next novel.”

Jeyne hummed and smiled sheepishly, “What can I say. House Tully has a special place in my heart.”

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, The Treasury

The treasury was a mess.

The gold was just loosely piled into chests, without an inventory list or something similar and the corresponding ledgers to the various rooms were confusing the situation even more. In the end Joffrey decided that it was probably done on purpose to disguise the true state of the treasury.

There wasn’t anything to be done but to completely overhaul the whole layout of the treasury and the inventory system. On Joffrey’s command the counters started to package the gold coins in easily countable units of 25 pieces per linen cloth roll. They were then stacked into small chests that contained the same number of coin rolls every time. The work was done by trusted servants that wore clothes without pockets and supervised by the chalk white Keeper of Keys and some of Joffrey’s own people.

Maege particularly had an eye for picking up on inconsistencies in somebody’s body language and pointing them out to Joffrey or her sister. She had developed an appetite for people watching ever since his fostering and these days he relied on her more and more to keep him abreast about the people around him. As a servant that was not assigned with a specific function she could quickly vanish into the background without arousing suspicion.

The initial counting was done within a week and the results had Joffrey breathing a lot easier. As it turned out there was maybe 1/3 more gold in the treasury than recorded in the books. He had feared that it would be the other way round. They had yet to look at the property and business ledgers that had been found in Baelish’ rooms and who knew what they would find there.

This deviation from the ledgers was thankfully enough evidence for Joffrey to go to his father and tell him about his suspicion that Baelish was stealing from the crown.

Robert, predictably, exploded.

He wasn’t a ‘copper counter’ as he liked to call it, but being stolen from so blatantly was not something he tolerated.

“You have done good work, boy. Jon will take another 4 to 6 weeks to return to this cesspit, so what have you planned until then?”

“I want to go through Baelish books and belongings, even the properties in the city. This isn’t just taking a bit of gold now and then. I fear this is systematically embezzling money on a scale that has never been done before. He has to have written down where he moved the money, nobody can keep all of that in their head. Additionally I ordered a full audit on the other objects in the treasury that aren’t coins, might as well make sure… Father, I don’t trust the Keepers of the Keys. If even one of them did the job properly that person would have had more coins written down in his ledgers than the others, but the additional gold was distributed evenly. They must be working together or for Baelish… probably both. I want to put them discreetly under arrest, letting them run around freely is too risky, but I also do not want to warn any of their accomplices before we are not completely aware of the whole situation.”

“Done.” Robert agreed grimly, than he grinned, “See, I knew giving you more responsibility was a good idea. If you were a few years older I would just hand you the position as Master of Coins directly, but unfortunately you are too young for the pissy lords in the court.”

Joffrey just shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t claim to have done much. I have little knowledge in accounting or reading such papers, nor did I even know who to go to for help. Uncle Tyrion was the one that organized the right people…”

“Even so, you noticed that something was off and got things done. That is the most important thing. The rest is just details.”

Details that were important, Joffrey thought dryly.

Joffrey sighed deeply before telling frankly, “Maybe.. but it wasn’t any fun at all, so I’m not unhappy about the age restrictions.”

Robert snorted and patted him on his shoulder.

“Right you are, but you will continue to look into this anyway? At least until Jon is back?”

“Yes. It’s better if we have an idea how much gold there is to our name and set up strict regulations about counting said money before the new Master of Coin can ‘adjust’ the numbers to his liking.”

“He better not, or my Warhammer will do the speaking.” Robert grunted before he dismissed Joffrey for the day.

To further ease his way, Robert decreed that all of Baelish’ officially registered properties in King’s Landing would go to Joffrey. After all Baelish was the last of his house and apart from his seat, which would return to the Vale, everything else was property of the crown. Doubly so if he had embezzled money from them.

With the sensitive part of their conversation pretty much at an end Robert called for his squire to bring more wine.

After taking another gulp he commented, “Do your search, but leave Baelish’s whor* houses to your uncle, at least on the surface. Otherwise your mother will never stop complaining to me.”

Joffrey sent his father an aggrieved expression, “Did she come to you?”

Robert laughed and took a deep drink from his goblet.

“She did. At first she tried to be persuasive, then she screeched that this is not something a prince should do, when I didn’t relent. I shut her up with the fact that you are excelling at the tasks given to you and that it is good training for when you are king. She hasn’t stopped preening since then.”

Joffrey closed his eyes. At least that drama was avoided. He had not looked forward to his customary visit with his mother tomorrow.

“Thanks.” He said softly.

Robert snorted, “Your mother is a lot of things, but subtle about her opinions what a prince should be and do, she is not.”

Joffrey winced and took a sip of his lemon water, “I know she means well, but…”

“It’s not what you want. I know, so leave your mother to me. I actually enjoy when she is wroth with me. You don’t.”

Joffrey hummed in agreement, his gaze fell on Lancel who was refilling Robert’s cup and Joffrey waited until he could catch his eyes. The older boy winked at him, indicating that he wouldn’t report the more incriminating parts of the conversation to his mother.

It had been a good investment when he decided to spend time with Lancel and Tyrek after their arrival some months ago. The two squires were pretty easy to win over. A few hunts and invitations to his solar had ensured that they would keep his secrets and only reported to his mother about things that he wanted her to know.

Thinking about the Lannister part of his family made his thoughts turn to his siblings, he might as well use this opportunity to talk about them while Robert was amiable, only slightly drunk and willing to listen.

“Tommen has recently started his education.”

Robert grinned at that, but didn’t say anything, just waited for Joffrey to make his point.

“I want him to have the same lessons as me. In everything.”

“He is not the crown prince.” Robert pointed out.

“True, but neither was Lord Stark meant to take over as Lord Paramount.” Joffrey threw back.

“You are not dying Joffrey.” Robert growled.

Joffrey smiled at that, “I do not intend to, but I want Tommen to be prepared should something happen to me. A good and strict education will help. Mother… mother has been excessively indulging him.”

“Your mother always excessively indulges you three.” Robert said with a shrug.

Joffrey thought for a moment how to best phrase what he wanted to say and then threw caution into the wind.

“I do not want my siblings to grow up into self-entitled, delusional brats.”

At that outburst Robert actually raised an eyebrow.

“You think your mother is spoiling them too much.”

“I know so. I had to intervene a few times already, but I have no idea how to direct mother’s misguided intentions without drawing her ire.”

Behind Robert Lancel winced, he had already been present for some of Cersei’s less amiable moods and knew how unreasonable she could be.

Robert grunted and took another long drink from his cup before slowly saying, “Arrange what tutors you think are best to be ready in six moons. When we leave on the Northern Progress your siblings and mother won’t be joining us all the way. Cersei thinks they are too young. I don’t know about that, but I agreed. No sense dragging them around Westeros unnecessarily. They will travel with us to Casterly Rock where they will stay until our return. Until then your mother will be Tywin’s problem, the old lion is probably the only man alive that can shut her up. If you clear it with him, she won’t have any chance to interfere, no matter her opinions.”

Joffrey nodded, that was actually a sensible solution to the whole dilemma. Now there was only the problem of Tywin himself. Joffrey wanted his siblings educated, not indoctrinated as Tywin Lannister’s newest minions. He probably would need to impress his grandfather enough that cultivating Myrcella and Tommen would take a back seat for the next couple of years. And who knew if Tywin was still alive then.

“Well. I see you have important things to be doing. Like sampling the newest Arbor Gold. And I will return to accounting hell.” Joffrey joked to break up the serious atmosphere.

“Brat.” Robert chortled, “Don’t forget Baelish’s properties.”

Joffrey nodded before addressing his cousin, “Lancel could you please call in Hilda?”

Said teenager simply nodded and vanished to retrieve the girl, who should still be waiting outside the King’s apartments.

His servant arrived in due time, offered a deep curtsy to Robert before glancing at Joffrey to await orders.

“The chest, if you please.”

Hilda nodded and took the box with the documents and then walked several steps back to once again fade into the background, very conscious to never show him or the King her back.

“Another pretty one.” Robert couldn’t help but comment, letting his eyes run up and down her curvy body.

“Yes.” Joffrey said simply and pointed.

“Yes, yes. I know, you do not share. But I will look, that’s my right as King.” Robert teased.

Joffrey allowed himself a small grin in return, “That I will concede to… I will see you at dinner?”

“You will. Off you go, boy!”

Time to find out what Baelish had hidden in his pleasure houses.

Chapter 28 Chapter Text

296 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep, Tyrion’s apartments

Tyrion was rather chipper when he learned what his next duty was. Joffrey just hoped that his uncle wasn’t acting too creepy and left him to it. Tyrion’s weakness for whor*s was at times rather worrying, especially when he recalled what Shae could potentially do to him. Both the book-Shae and the TV-Shae. Joffrey could honestly not say which one was worse.

Several days later Tyrion returned with a wagon cart full of documents, two blackmail ledgers and a beautiful whor*. No money though. Well that would have been too easy.

Joffrey listened to Tyrion while he reported about his search and how helpful the woman beside him had been once he had shown her the property deed to Saffron Rest, the most expensive brothel in Baelish’s possession.

“Introduce yourself to prince Joffrey, my dear.” Tyrion encouraged with a smile.

The red haired woman had stayed quiet ever since Joffrey had entered the room. She didn’t seem to be older than mid-twenties, maybe even as young as 16, Joffrey could never tell with small folk. She was wearing a conservative gown in the style of the wealthier merchant class that would not have drawn attention on any market place in Westeros.

She curtsied well enough before she said in a pleasant voice, “Greetings your highness, I am Ros. Lord Baelish has been training me these last few moons as majordomo for Saffron Rest.”

Joffrey nearly jerked when he heard the name. Wasn’t she a TV series only character? Joffrey until now was of the opinion that he was in the Westeros that had been described in the books, not the TV show.

“Can you read and write? Count?”

“I can.” She said simply.

“With the training you received, do you think you will be capable to run the day to day business of the brothel?”

The woman hesitated, before saying carefully, “I would prefer additional instructions in how various situations are to be handled now… but… yes, I do. My family was of the merchant class, I am aware how to run a business.”

Joffrey could only agree with Tyrion’s decision of bringing her to him. She certainly seemed to have the right qualifications to run the brothel, maybe she would even be a good choice for heading the spy-network that he was intending to implement, but he would have to see.

“Where are you from Ros? And how old are you?”

“I am originally from Winter Town in the North, your highness. I will be nine and ten this year.”

“That’s far away.” Joffrey couldn’t help but murmur.

A slightly bitter smile appeared on Ros face only to vanish a moment later, “It is. Two years ago when I was married for less than six moons, my husband died in King’s Landing and I found myself in Lord Baelish’s brothel. There was no other way to survive.”

“Do you wish to return home to your family?”

Ros visibly thought about it before answering truthfully, “While it certainly sounds enticing at first, no, thank you. I am well aware how people will look at me once I have returned. I would be an outcast after surviving on my own for two years and have no other choice but continue my current profession. No, I think I will stay in King’s Landing. The position as majordomo will afford me a certain power and I will have a more comfortable life here than what would await me in the North.”

Joffrey hummed thoughtfully before he sent his uncle a quick smile and nodded, “I have no objections to Ros’ appointment.” He said before continuing in the woman’s direction. “Know this Ros, all of Lord Baelish establishments have been written over to me. For the sake of propriety and to avoid my mother’s wrath I have temporarily handed the dealings of the brothels to Tyrion… but my uncle has currently no time for additional distractions, so you will continue to report directly to me.”

“Yes, your highness.” Ros nodded.

“For the sake of a good working relationship I will be frank. While having additional spending money is certainly nice, it is not the primary reason why I have asked for the deeds. Lord Baelish has always struck me as a… well informed man.”

Ros’ eyes widened before she nodded in agreement.

“People like to talk in bed.”

“I will have to take your word for it.” Joffrey said with a shrug, “In any case, I would like you to put a priority on gathering information from the brothels’ clientele no matter how insignificant it seems. Only for my ears. You are aware of Varys’ little birds?”

Ros nodded, “Lord Baelish had us keep quiet in their presence, but we were also instructed to leave them be.”

Joffrey hummed and nodded at that, “Continue that practice for now. Please make it clear to your staff that selling information will not be tolerated. Though I am also prepared to pay bonuses for especially interesting information. Developing a reputation for discretion is the goal here. Also nobody but you should be aware that you report to me.”

Ros nodded thoughtfully.

“I do have some questions myself Ros.”

“I will try to answer as best as I can, your highness.”

Joffrey nodded, “I have no idea what is considered a fair wage for this kind of work or how much is too much?”

“It is considered fair for the whor*s to keep 2/3 of the set price, as well as additional tips. From the money we earn we pay for food and board at the brothel. Lord Baelish had us work in a five day rhythm with one day off. For work on holy days there was an additional bonus, but nobody was forced to work on those days.”

“What about hygiene?” Joffrey asked curiously, if a bit uncomfortable.

“We wash daily, your highness. Bathing water is always kept hot in the kitchen and Lord Baelish insisted on washing between clients if possible.” Ros said frankly, not at all bothered by the question.

“Ailments and pregnancy?”

“We have to pay for the maester ourselves, but we often pool money together and then he checks on several women at the same time. The workers that got pregnant even after taking moon tea had the option of keeping the child or giving it to the Silent Sisters.”

“What about violence and unwelcome guests?”

“There are eight guards working in the brothel. Generally two are on duty at the same time. Lord Baelish did not permit violence against the girls, unless the client paid for it and the whor* agreed. People that misbehaved or became violent were removed as quickly as possible.”

Thoughtfully Joffrey nodded, that actually sounded reasonable.

“Continue to run the brothel like that, the only difference is the maester. Set up a contract with whomever you trust for checkups every moon or two. Tyrion or I will find you somebody to teach you how to run the books and what to watch out for… also I want you to prepare yourself for additional work. Baelish’ other brothels will have their own majordomos, but you will be responsible for the coordination of the information up to me.”

Ros nodded, clearly delighted with what she had just been told and left after a last curtsy in their direction.

“Setting up your own spy network, nephew?” Tyrion couldn’t help comment once Ros was gone.

“It seems prudent after what happened with Baelish.”

Tyrion hummed while he poured himself a glass of wine and Joffrey some lemon water.

“Not a fan of Varys then?”

“It strikes me as rather odd that the Master of Whispers was not aware of Baelish’ dealings. I would rather move my own people into place than having to rely on him for everything.”

Tyrion nodded in agreement, “Wise. Though make sure that this does not reach the ears of my father or Lord Stannis. Neither have much patience for these services.”

“That’s why the brothels, once we have all of the documentation about Baelish’ wrong-doing, will be sold back into the holdings of the crown and ostensibly managed indirectly through merchant sons in our employ.” Joffrey said softly.

Tyrion stared at him and then chuckled, “And supposedly that will give Ros some time to gain a firm grip on the operation and she will continue to report to you.”

“It’s the best case scenario.” Joffrey agreed, “So what else did you find?”

Tyrion grimaced and took another fortifying drink before he expanded on the rather short report from before. He hadn’t found any substantial amount of money hidden away, but after several more in depth inspections of the rooms he had found several hidden caches with documents, letters and ledgers and more disquieting, several empty cells behind a fake wall.

Joffrey felt ill from the thought alone.

The other properties, which included two taverns, a bakery, two cloth shops, a cobbler and various street stands all over King’s Landing, were searched as well. At first glance they looked legitimate and unrelated to Baelish more shady dealings, but Joffrey wasn’t quite convinced. Still, with no obvious signs of wrong doing he could do nothing but hand them over to Victaron Crabb to add to his holdings.

And then he finally turned his attention to all of Baelish’ ledgers and documents that had been gathered in the late Master of Coin’s office, under constant guard from his personal men at arms. Joffrey was not taking any chances with that kind of evidence. He was rather glad for the Lannister assistants with merchant backgrounds that Tyrion had acquired for him and knew these kinds of documents. Within the following days they slowly began to assemble the puzzle that was the crowns finances and Baelish involvement. It did not take long for him to send for the ledgers of the 10 years before that for comparison.

Some days after Lord Jon’s departure it occurred to me that with the Lord Hand on his way to the Vale and the Master of Coin dead, the Treasury was in a rather vulnerable position. There were enough nobles with access to it through ceremonial titles that were currently unsupervised through the still empty office of the Master of Coin and theoretically could have helped themselves to a bonus. Especially with my father being more interested in the next barrel of Arbor Gold than state craft. I honestly cannot say what possessed me to try to make the gravity of the situation tangible to my King father but apparently I annoyed him so much that he put me in charge of it.

To this day I still consider it one of the most foolish actions of my father, ever. I shudder at the idea of putting one of my 10 name day old great-grandchildren in charge of the Treasury of the Realm. In any case, I had the devil’s luck on my side, with my Lannister uncle Lord Tyrion. A man who had experience and more importantly the contacts to the more mercantile- inclined Lannister branches.

What they uncovered was probably the most daring financial fraud in the history of Westeros. Lord Baelish, who had always been considered a financial genius with how he seemed to conjure money for the King out of thin air, had run a long-con on the Treasury that would have seen it emptied at an ever faster rate until we would have been several millions gold dragons in debt with the Iron Bank, the Tyrells and my grandfather. At the same he would have profited with every transaction going in or out.

As callous as it sounds, his death could not have come at a more opportune time.

Chapter 29 Chapter Text

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Master of Coin office

“So what you are saying is that between 284 AC when my father was crowned and 291 AC the treasury shrunk from 4 million to barely 100.000?” Joffrey said slowly while he massaged his aching temples.

Lorence Lannister across from him nodded, gesturing at a list of dates, events and corresponding numbers that he had neatly put together on parchment. A bit over two weeks after Tyrion had sent that raven, Daven’s youngest brother had finally arrived from Lannisport. He immediately took charge of the people working on this mess and began to establish a timeline of what had happened.

“Yes, my prince. The numbers are quite feasible, the costs of Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy’s Rebellion depleted the coffers rather significantly. You have to further consider the reduced tax income because of the devastated fields across Westeros, as well as King’s Landing destruction and the Burning of Lannisport.”

Joffrey hummed thoughtfully and nodded, alright that sounded feasible.

“Additionally there were the rather excessive tourneys my father has ordered for his entertainment.” Joffrey added dryly, then he asked thoughtfully, “Dare I ask about my mother’s dowry?”

“The Queen’s dowry was worth about 1.2 million gold dragons when she married. A third which was actually paid out in gold dragons while the rest was paid in jewelry, land deeds and shops with their own bailiffs. Her Grace than also received the shops and land deeds that were traditionally reserved for the Targaryen Queens, which are also not insignificant and are taken care of by crown bailiffs. As far as I could find, Baelish had no opportunity to access those funds yet.”

Joffrey breathed out in relief. He didn’t even want to think about the epic fit his mother would have thrown if Littlefinger had gotten his hands on her dowry. Which under the current law Robert, and with that the Master of Coin, was well within his rights to do.
It also put the story-Cersei’s desire to stay Queen into perspective. If her initial dowry or a part of it had been eaten up by Robert’s spending and she only became aware of the debt looming over the Iron Throne after Robert’s death… Well, she would have suddenly been faced with losing the royal land deeds and shops with which she financed her luxurious life to the next queen. To Margaery. Losing both power AND her financial security would be unbearable for his proud mother. Because having to ask Tywin for financial help would be galling to her.

Joffrey turned his attention back to the accountant and the current situation.

“So when Baelish took over there was barely any money left. Alright, I can understand why he borrowed it initially. Investing in properties and shops and then paying back the debt with the interest would work.”

“Yes, and that was what happened initially while the Small Council was still unsure about his capabilities. The treasury began to grow again, until the next large tourney, where he had to borrow money again to finance it.”

Joffrey closed his eyes, “I can see where this is going. He continued to incur debt while skimming off the interest made of the properties he bought for the crown… and with that money he did what he was really good at, investing… presumably under his own name?”

“Yes and no, he used a rather astonishing variety of aliases for the majority of those businesses. In the beginning the sums he embezzled must have been rather small, but with the number of royally owned properties and shops the interest began to grow.”

“And with that also the sums that he stole and could reinvest… until it was so much that he needed help.”

Lorence hummed in agreement, “Hence the Keeper of the Keys, harbor masters, tax collectors, the commander of the Gold Cloaks, various minor nobles, etc., etc.”

“We have the names of these people?”

“Lord Baelish was most thorough in keeping records.” Lorence said viciously.

“How fortunate. See that there are enough men and then arrest them as simultaneously as possible. If this leaks out and people get the idea that they can just steal from the crown, we could be in deep trouble.”

Joffrey was thankful that Tyrion had thought ahead and had sent for another 50 men, all experienced knights and men-at-arms, along with Lorence. They would certainly come in handy now.

“Yes, your highness… oh one more thing.”

“Yes.”

“The Tyroshi trading cartel he borrowed money from was actually in his name.”

Joffrey stared blankly for a moment before slowly saying, “So we paid interest to him for stealing our money?”

“One could see it as such.”

Joffrey had to hand it to the bastard, that kind of blatant robbery took balls.

“There is one bright side, my prince.”

“Bright side? Please any good news are currently more than welcome.”

“As far as I could see from the numbers and documents, Baelish had not yet moved the money he embezzled out of our grasp. He continued to invest in new properties and businesses to strengthen his base. If he had maybe another year time to continue his scheme, he would have certainly started to move the profit to a place we could never reach it.”

“And you mean…”

“The Iron Bank. There were several letters in his latest correspondence with a keyholder about opening a personal account with them as well as a storage vault, presumably for all the documents and property deeds. Though thankfully nothing had been finalized yet.”

Gods. Joffrey shivered at the thought, he had dodged that bullet by just a hairsbreadth, it seemed.

“Those are indeed good news. Thank you Lorence, you have been indispensable. I will see you rewarded handsomely for this. Now is there a way for me to keep you in my employ?”

The young man bowed his head deeply in Joffrey’s direction and admitted, “To be honest your highness, ever since my brother has become your teacher he has urged us younger siblings to find employment with you. The letters he has written as character reference sound more like the ramblings of a lovelorn maiden, than an instructor about his student.”

At that Joffrey couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. Of course he knew that Daven was rather happy with his progress, but he hadn’t expected that his teacher would brag to the rest of his family about him. Go figure.

Lorence seemed to take his reaction as a positive sign because he continued, “So when Lord Tyrion sent for me, I treated this whole endeavor as a test of my capabilities to gain employment with you.”

“How fortunate.” Joffrey said with a satisfied grin, “I have certainly plans about all the businesses that have suddenly landed in the possession of the crown. There are still some details to iron out with Lord Arryn, but be assured that the position that I have in mind for you will be challenging and of utmost importance. Hopefully without the typical political backstabbing attached.”

“I look forward to it my prince.” Lorence said with another bow.

The arrests happened two days later, coordinated by Lorence and Tyrion and carried out by a mixture of Baratheon and Lannister knights and Red Keep men-at-arms. Wisely they had kept the true nature of the razzia quiet until the last possible moment. Informing the men of what they were to do only half an hour before they rode off to capture the people involved. The Master of Whispers was also kept in the dark and only informed once the first people were hauled into the dungeons. Joffrey had to applaud Tyrion’s and Lorence skills, that they had been able to keep it from Varys for several days was certainly an accomplishment.

They did not catch everyone. Some had slipped away days or hours before, but most of them had been completely caught off guard when they were arrested. Many of them were small merchants from King’s Landing, but even more were landed knights or minor nobles of the Crownlands, a fact that infuriated Robert to no end. To Joffrey’s silent relief he finally acquiesced to leave the judgment and punishment to Lord Jon. Once he had calmed down Robert admitted to him that there were too many nobles involved that they could allow themselves to just execute all of them for stealing from the crown, not without public trials.

While all of this took place Joffrey made sure that he kept detailed accounts of their findings and summarized everything for Lord Jon. The Hand of the King was expected any day now and Joffrey would hate to make even more work for him. After all it would be Jon who would have to sort out the imprisoned and reappoint the more important positions.

“Alright. Now how do we separate the various duties so that people cannot steal from the Crown so easily? And how should I phrase it that Lord Jon will agree?” Joffrey asked after another long meeting about the Royal finances.

Tyrion and Lorence looked at each other and then grinned at Joffrey. It was rather terrifying.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Lord Hand office

“… and he just… gave you responsibility over the Treasury?” Lord Jon asked weakly, pale faced and very tired.

Joffrey sighed deeply, feeling guilty for giving his mentor even more cause to worry.

“I wish I could say otherwise, but yes. Uncle Tyrion and some of the more mercantile-inclined Lannister branch members were most helpful in that aspect… and it seems that we have just barely avoided a calamity.”

Lord Jon sighed and allowed himself to massage his forehead. Every one of his 78 years were showing.

“Walk me through it.”

Joffrey nodded and placed the timelines in front of him, narrating a summary of what Tyrion, Lorence and he had put together over the last few weeks.

Afterwards Lord Jon leaned back in his seat as he studied Joffrey, a cup with lemon water in his hand. During Joffrey’s report his expression had slowly turned thoughtful and less drawn, until he regained his normal mask of polite interest that gave nothing away.

“I have to admit, Joffrey. This is a feat well done.”

“I am ten name days old… I shouldn’t have to do it.” Joffrey allowed himself to complain.

Lord Jon continued to watch him with a tiny smile now.

“Maybe, but you are the Crown Prince and for better or for worse you will deal with similar situations your whole life.”

Joffrey just sighed before he turned the topic back to the office of the Master of Coin.

“We have to change the duties in some way. This cannot happen again.”

Lord Jon nodded, “Quite so. Now let’s hear the ideas that you have no doubt been working on.”

Joffrey sighed but complied.

“…and you think keeping these shops and businesses in the ownership of the crown is wise?”

“Baelish wasn’t wrong in this. It is far more profitable to have the money of the crown work than just sit in chests. It will also… curtail my father’s ability to spend all the money in the Treasury at once.”

“So similar to your Crown Prince Works then.” Lord Jon mused.

Joffrey nodded, “And I would like to have people with actual skill in charge, not some lord who had enough money to buy this position.”

Lord Jon grimaced and cautioned, “My prince, this might cause a lot of upheaval in the court.”

“I am not talking about the position ‘Master of Coin’ or the ‘Keeper of the Keys’, let the noble lords squabble over who will receive the ‘honor’ for all that I care. Just word their duties differently so that they will no longer have any true power to cause damage to the income of the crown. Leave that to the people with the mind for it.”

Lord Jon, reluctantly, seemed to agree.

“Joffrey. The duties of the Master of Coin are well known in Westeros…a sudden change would lead to just as much problems.”

“The Master of Coin is responsible for collecting taxes and customs, overseeing the officers and the royal mints and borrowing money for the crown. Just have the scribes and accountants that assist him trained here in King’s Landing. So that even when a new Master of Coin is named, there are enough people that know how the daily work is to be done. They will serve as first line of defense against embezzlement. There should be no replacing them with the Master of Coin’s own people.”

“And the businesses owned by the Crown?”

At this Joffrey grinned up at Lord Jon.

“This was never really the task of the Master of Coin, was it? Baelish invented and implemented this practice himself. If this becomes a separate office, say only accountable to the King himself, nobody could protest it, right? And of course the Master of Coin will be informed about the revenues and taxation of said businesses, but he will not have any authorization to make changes or sell them.”

Lord Jon hummed thoughtfully and then asked dryly, “And I take, you already have a person in mind for this new office.”

Joffrey grinned unrepentant and said, “I do. He is already working on a curriculum for any future scribes and accountants in service of the Master of Coin.”

Lord Jon nodded slowly and then sighed deeply, “Very well. I will concede to these changes and so will your father. Now about the next Master of Coin.”

Joffrey grimaced, yes, who was going to follow in Baelish footsteps?

Chapter 30 Chapter Text

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

The next Master of Coin had to be Tyrion.

In Joffrey’s opinion there was no other choice than to name the one person to the office that would not make a mess of the Realm’s finances for the next few years and would reinforce the policies they had agreed with together. The one after Tyrion would be a problem for a future Joffrey, who hopefully had survived the Long Night.

In the end, Lord Arryn had agreed with Joffrey’s reasoning. The Hand of the King might not be very fond of Tyrion himself, the whoring was a rather large detractor. But he was well aware that Tyrion loved Joffrey and would do his very best to ensure that the Treasury would stay full for when it was time for him to ascend. He could also not protest appointing the queen’s brother to the Small Council, when already a brother of the King was part of it.

At first Tyrion was reluctant about taking the thankless job, but Joffrey begged until he agreed with several deep sighs and a fond pat to his back. Joffrey was also pretty sure that Tyrion was flattered by the offer and the acknowledgment it brought him. As any Lannister worth his salt, he also loved the power it gave him.

Jaime was elated to have his younger brother permanently in King’s Landing, Cersei was furious and Tywin, Tywin was suspiciously quiet. Joffrey wasn’t really sure what he should read into that, but he promised himself to keep his eyes open for any moves his grandfather could make.

In any case, a part of the Lannisport party that had been summoned by Tyrion would stay in King’s Landing to create a far more transparent way of reporting and collecting taxes, as well as establish the Royal Accounting and Commerce Academy.

With Tyrion in charge of the treasury and taxation, Joffrey finally allowed himself to return to his usual schedule, with additional time spent on his martial lessons that he had somewhat neglected in favor of the Baelish Situation.

A part of that was his first jousting lesson against immovable objects. Joffrey had decided that it would be alright to practice the motions of the sport, but there would be no way that he would ever participate in a Tourney. There were far too many ways things could go wrong. Willas Tyrell was the best example.

It was from this jousting lesson he returned when noticed the commotion in the hallway that led to the office of the Hand.

Robert was laughing. He was laughing while he was leaving Lord Jon’s new office.

“Good for you Jon! Tell me when the lass arrives.” He called over his shoulders before he left in direction of his apartment.

Now for a moment Joffrey considered continuing on his usual path and ask his old mentor at a later date, but in the end his curiosity won out.

Lord Jon looked up when he was announced and gave him a small wry smile.

“Prince Joffrey, what can I do for you?”

“Might I ask what is amusing my father so much?”

“Ah…” then Jon sighed and indicated to the seat across from him, “As you are aware with Robyn… gone.”

Here Lord Jon choked on the sentence and Joffrey regretted asking him.

“With my boy gone, I once again need an heir… I had hoped that Harrold, the grandson of my sister Alys would be suitable… he is only 5 years older than you and I had planned to take him to King’s Landing, to educate him on ruling the Eyrie… alas he has turned out to be … unsuitable for the position and I once again am in need of a wife.”

Joffrey had a hard time controlling his expression. What the hell had Harrold Hardyng done that Lord Jon thought him unsuitable? But that could wait, the other part was far more interesting.

So Joffrey nodded and then asked carefully, “Have you given any thought on who you will marry?”

Here Lord Jon smiled sardonically, “I have already agreed to a match. I will wed Myranda Royce, the daughter of Nestor Royce.”

Joffrey hummed, “He is currently acting as the High Steward of the Vale, is he not?”

Lord Jon nodded appreciatively at him.

“It is the best solution. At my age, any possible child I will sire will not have yet reached adulthood by the time of my passing. Nestor has been taking care of my lands faithfully these past years. He knows the Arryn history and values well. He will be able to assist and guide his grandchild.”

Joffrey nodded before he hesitatingly added, “Lord Jon. This might be impudent of me… but I wish to assure you that should you have another child I will make certain that they will know of you… and if necessary I will foster them, to ensure that they are raised in the way you would wish it.”

Lord Jon’s expression was hard to read but when he finally spoke and his voice was just slightly hoarse, Joffrey knew that he had done the right thing promising to protect Jon’s legacy.

“You are a good boy, Joffrey.”

To change the heavy atmosphere Joffrey asked, “May I ask when Lady Royce will arrive?”

“In six moons. In respect of Lysa, Robyn and House Tully, I will adhere to the mourning period and will wed Lady Myranda in a small ceremony… that will also give my household more than enough time to move to the Maidenvault.”

Joffrey nodded at that, after the tragedy Jon had not stayed a night longer in the Tower of the Hand and instead moved into guestrooms in Maegor’s Holdfast. Apparently he and Robert had finally settled where Lord Jon would live now. The Maidenvault was not a bad idea, especially for someone as devout as Lord Jon.

Out of respect the small council sessions now took place in different chamber as well. Joffrey doubted that Lord Jon would enter the Tower of the Hand again during his lifetime.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s solar

Joffrey absentmindedly paged through his social calendar and all the engagements planned for the next couple of months. He would have to tell Marwin to prepare some gifts for both the arrival of Lady Royce and the wedding of the Hand. Better to have those ready as early as possible.

A knock and Joffrey watched as Maege quietly slipped into the room. She was carrying a stack of linen bound packages, a sight very common in King’s Landing. Household servants like her were often sent on errands to pick up finished clothing or knickknacks for their masters. She set the first two packages down on the chair, they really did contain things he had commissioned in the city, before she sat down the smallest parcel on top of his desk. With deft fingers she unbound the twine and presented him with a leather binder that contained a few loose pages. It was this week’s summary from Ros. The majordomo of Saffron Rest had taken to pass on the information through handing over discreet packages in shops all over King’s Landing, and verbally giving Maege a location for the next pickup. Clever. Nobody would find it strange if a servant slipped into a shop only to leave it a bit later with an additional package. No one would stop her, doubly so because she was of the Crown Prince’s household, who was widely popular in King’s Landing.

Joffrey looked amused at Maege, who clearly had fun running those secret tasks for him.

“Thank you Maege. Ros is well?”

“Yes, my prince. She indicated that she would like to meet with you when the moon is full again, for further instructions and ways to keep the information hidden.”

“You two are clearly enjoying this, aren’t you.”

Maege beamed at him, “It is certainly thrilling.”

“I am glad you think so. How are your reading and writing lessons?”

Maege sighed, “Slowly, my prince. With all my other tasks it sometimes falls to the wayside.”

Joffrey nodded, “I would prefer that you would gain some literacy. So that in later years if this whole endeavor grows, I have a reliable assistant who can help me with it. You and your sisters have become indispensable to me, Maege. I hope you know that.”

“We are glad to serve you, my prince.” Maege answered with a smile.

“Please take the clothing to the Keeper of the Wardrobe and afterwards I would like you to go down to the kitchens for supper. Maybe you can find out what Harrold Hardyng did that Lord Jon is suddenly in the need of a new heir?”

“Certainly.” Maege agreed before she curtsied prettily and swiftly left the room.

Another knock a quarter of an hour later made Joffrey look up curiously and then smile broadly.

“Greetings uncle.” He said, honestly delighted to see Renly standing there.

“Greetings nephew.” He replied with a warm laugh, behind him, as always, stood Loras.

“When did you two arrive?”

“Just an hour ago… we have heard that the last few weeks were… eventful.”

“You could call them that.” Joffrey said darkly.

Renly and Loras glanced at each other and then Renly asked tentatively, “I heard the position of Master of Coin has already been filled… I had hoped to offer myself as a candidate to the office.”

Joffrey sighed and rubbed his temples. Joffrey was quite aware that while Renly and Loras both liked and trusted him, the interests of House Tyrell always had precedence.

Joffrey gave them an abridged version of what had occurred in the last few weeks, along with the explanation why he had insisted on Tyrion, who was far and wide known for his wit, taking the position.

“How… daring.” Renly said wide eyed.

“Daring… that’s certainly a word for it. We barely escaped a catastrophe of epic proportions.” Joffrey sighed, taking a sip of his lemon water.

Then he turned his attention to Loras.

“Loras, I know you will probably pass that on to your family… just please leave your father out. The crown really does not need this getting out. Let your grandmother handle the information as she sees fit.”

Loras looked for a moment like he would protest his innocence and that smiled wryly at him.

“I would have gone to her first anyway. My grandmother… well she has been expressing a desire to meet you in person.”

Joffrey hummed thoughtfully and then offered, “Maybe once the Northern Progress is over. By that time I should be able to take longer trips out of the sight of my parents.”

Loras nodded and then fell silent again.

“How have you been, Joffrey?” Renly finally asked after drinking from his cup.

“Being crown prince… it’s a lot of work.” he finally admitted quietly.

He was tired, this whole thing with Baelish, while expected, had been exhausting. He just wanted to spend some time without having to keep to his crown prince persona.

Renly after another moment of contemplation sat his cup down and then stood up to wander over where Joffrey was sitting. With gentle hands he lifted the 10 year old up and deposited him into his lap, holding him tight to his chest.

Joffrey thought about protesting before he just admitted defeat and let himself be coddled by his uncle. So few people touched him these days, even less since his confirmation to crown prince. He missed it.

“Robert should have waited with that title.” Renly said softly, slowly running his hand through his curls, “You are already taking on more responsibilities that you should at such a young age. I remember that I still felt like a child, right up until my six and tenth name day, when I became Lord Paramount. He could have waited until your three and tenth nameday.”

Joffrey just sighed and kept quiet. He didn’t quite dare to look at Loras, who was surely watching them, but he also did not want to move. It felt good to be held, to be protected from reality for a little while.

Chapter 31 Chapter Text

Lord Jon returned with an additional retinue of Vale knights, a grim expression and the news that his betrothed would arrive within the next six moons, while alluding that he found the current heir, Harrold Hardyng, unsuitable. It had taken quite a bit of digging from my own household to get to the truth of the matter. Apparently Lord Jon had taken a detour to Ironoaks, the Seat of House Waynwood, where Hardyng was fostered by Lady Anya Waynwood, to meet his heir and discuss his future.
Because of the quick advancement of Lord Jon’s party the Waynwoods had not yet received news of the impending arrival of their liege. The Lady herself, and two of her sons were currently not in the keep when Lord Jon arrived. As was Hardyng who had been on a hunt with several nobles of the same age. Lord Jon was of course greeted with all honors by the Ser Wallace and accommodated accordingly while he waited for the return of his heir.

According to one of the Arryn manservants Lord Jon left his rooms to seek out Hardyng the moment he was informed about his return What exactly happened and what words were exchanged will forever remain a mystery, but the general conclusion of the Arryn servants was that Hardyng was found by Lord Jon in a rather compromising position, he also seemed to have reacted dismissively to Lord Jon’s consternation. I am of the opinion that Hardyng did not recognize his liege lord and only saw a stranger. I do not think that he would have acted like this if he had been aware of who stood in front of him.

In any case, as a result the Arryn party left the keep not even an hour later. Three days after arriving at the Eyrie Lord Jon’s engagement to Myranda Royce was announced.

To this day I can only explain this atypical and impulsive reaction of Lord Jon’s as the byproduct of the grief and devastation he felt at the loss of another wife and child. After all he generally tolerated my father’s dalliances with a stoic face and much patience.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s solar

Joffrey stared at Maege while he tried to make sense of the report. Harrold Hardyng must have the worse luck in Westeros. It took a lot for Jon Arryn to lose his patience.

“That’s… certainly quite the story. Good work Maege.” He told his servant before he dismissed her.

It was slowly developing into a routine that once a day, after his sword practice, but before dinner he received a report of the going-ons in the Red Keep. Most of the time it took less than 5 minutes for Maege to inform him what was happening, but that was the point in condensing information. With time, Joffrey intended to train her to make decisions on her own, once he was King he did not want to have to micromanage everything himself.

With that report done Joffrey turned his attention to the drawings of the royal wheelhouse that was currently being constructed for his and his father’s use. Robert had no interest in taking one, but Cersei had certainly made her opinion clear about Joffrey sleeping in tents along the road, especially in the North.

So now Joffrey had to deal with this annoyance as well.

At least he had quickly nixed all the unnecessary decorations of the wheelhouse. Instead of a double decked carriage with 40 draft horses there was a single level, though high enough that his father with his six feet could stand without a problem. The carriage was made out of oiled oak but instead of gilded metal, it was simply blackened. The only decoration on the outside hull were the complex wood burning pictures that depicted the Baratheon House sigil and various scenes of their history, otherwise the outer surface was one smooth plane. The wheelhouse had two sleeping chambers that were located on either end of the carriage and a solar in the middle. This main living area had two windows on each side that could be locked down from inside, with the door in the middle on the left side.

Joffrey, knowing Robert’s character, made damn sure that the walls, as well as the ceiling and floor were insulated on all sides with several inches of sheep wool. Not only making the wheelhouse more heat efficient, but also sound proof to a certain degree. He really didn’t want to listen to Robert having sex two rooms away.

To make up for the additional weight Joffrey chose to avoid additional wooden paneling, other than the outer shell and instead had wall panels made from fabric that were mounted on a stick frame. They displayed hunting scenes in the solar and forest scenes in the bedrooms. Throughout the whole wheelhouse there would be the same hardwood floor that was easy to clean and durable, though Joffrey also planned for one or two decorative carpets to be placed underneath the upholstered leather furniture in the solar that would look more like a traditional English sitting room in his old life than something of Westerosi-make. Joffrey had given the tanners the idea of padding furniture with horse hair before covering it with leather and fabric, when he ordered several of such sets for his own sitting rooms. After some quick negotiation about ensuring that Joffrey would receive a cut for the invention, the tanner shops in cooperation with the carpenters were now producing them en masse for nobles and rich merchants. Joffrey was actually interested how quickly they would develop the design while he was on Progress.

To heat the wheelhouse there were two brass carriage warmers, designed after Yi Ti hand warmers, bolted to the walls in the solar that would be able to carry coal and charcoal and spread the warmth throughout the rooms. Joffrey was too wary about hot coals in the sleeping areas.

The bedrooms were windowless for security reasons and the beds took up most of the space. They were built into the room and ran the whole width of it, making them a bit larger than king sized. Sideboards ran along each bed side that had a few shallow bowls to place things in and two cupholders on each side, to secure cups even while the wheelhouse was moving.

Light was provided through beautifully crafted lanterns with glass sides to stop the candles from falling and causing a fire. There were two such lanterns per bedroom which should give ample light to find the way, though not for reading.

Opposite the bed and also built-in was a modest wardrobe that was filled with a handful of outfits at the most and had two drawers for knickknacks. The majority of the clothing would be transported in the baggage train behind them.

Joffrey carefully went over the construction drawings as well as the explanation on the side. It seemed that they had finally incorporated everything to his specifications. Satisfied he put the papers to the side, to look over the preparations for his household.

Massey had been organizing supplies and compiling lists about the current inventory for weeks now. She was still unable to read well, but with the help of the scribes and Thaddaeus Lantell, the second steward in his household, she was more than capable in getting the information needed for her job.

On her recommendation Joffrey had had all the carts equipped with the Westerosi version of oil cloth and issued new shoes for all of his staff, as well as sturdy blankets. After some thought he also commissioned all-purpose daggers with the Baratheon crest burned into the hilt. All these preparations would hopefully ease the journey a bit. Joffrey had Massey also give out warnings about the extremes in weather they would probably encounter. From what he had noticed quite a few of his servants were now sowing additional clothing for themselves or others.

Joffrey read through Thaddaeus’ neat script next. It summarized their inventory and supplies that would be taken along, as well as the estimates for the acquisition of additional supplies on the progress, even with possible inflation taken into account. Thaddaeus even recommended pre-ordering certain items at various larger settlements for additional convenience. Joffrey was just about to call for said man, to approve of the numbers and recommendations when a sharp knock on his door made him look up.

The woman that curtsied to him was one of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting that primarily took care of Myrcella.

“Your highness. May I announce her highness, princess Myrcella?”

“Please.” Joffrey agreed instantly, curious what his little sister wanted, after all she should be in her deportment lessons with Melissa Algood.

The Lady Melissa was an exceedingly graceful dancer and conversationalist with lovely manners, if average looking, and so not considered a threat to his mother. While it had been not long since her debut at court she was considered the ideal lady and had many suitors as a result.

The door opened completely and Myrcella walked in, for the first time in a dress fit for court.

Joffrey stood up and came around his desk to watch as his little sister curtsied appropriately and greeted him formally. Behind her stood Lady Melissa and another of his mother’s handmaiden.

With a large smile, he returned the greeting before he quickly grabbed her and whirled her around. Myrcella giggled delighted and hugged him.

“That was very well done, little sister.” Joffrey praised her, “And you are wearing a court dress. Is this the first time?”

Myrcella nodded and squirmed until he let her down, so that she could show him her pretty new dress.

“Lady Melissa says that we practice now that I know what to do at court once I’m old enough!”

“She is right. I had to practice as well. Did you have fun?”

Myrcella nodded, clearly happy to talk about her lessons. Joffrey happily pushed his own responsibilities a bit back to chat with his 6-year-old sister about her etiquette lessons and growing literacy.

“Well, then I will soon rely on you to read to me, Myrcella.” He teased her gently.

In turn his sister pouted up at him, “But you are better at the voices than me.”

Joffrey smirked at that.

“Here, look what I made.” Myrcella said and ran off to one of the handmaidens.

Jocelyn or Joanna, Joffrey wasn’t quite sure, she had arrived a few months ago along with his cousins. His sister whispered something in her ear and was rewarded with a small letter that the girl fished out of one of her skirt pockets. Myrcella took the letter and ran back to Joffrey, though two steps in she seem to remember that she was supposed to act like a proper lady and slowed down to walk more sedately.

Joffrey opened his arms and pulled her into his lap. She unfolded the letter to show it to him.

“I wrote this for cousin Shireen. You said she is all alone in Dragonstone. I want to be her friend, just like you.”

Joffrey hummed in agreement and kissed the curly head of his little sister, careful not to shift the complex set of braids one of the handmaidens had weaved in. He turned his attention to the letter and began to read. It was a sweet introduction, partially following the rules of correspondence between nobles before abruptly veering off topic to the flowers in the garden and the story Joffrey read her a few nights ago. She had signed it with her name and then drew a childish flower at the bottom.

“That is very thoughtful of you, Myrcella. I will include your letter with mine and hopefully in 10 or so days we will have an answer.”

As promised Joffrey had kept up the correspondence with Shireen and wrote a letter every other week or so. By now the ship captains that regularly made the trip between Dragonstone and King’s Landing were in the habit of asking the harbor master if a letter needed to be carried to the island.

His sister stayed in his apartments for maybe another half hour before she left to return to their mother’s rooms and show off to her as well.

“Remind me to look for a piece of jewelry for Myrcella the next time I am in the city.” He said absentmindedly to Mab, who had quietly entered the room to remove the cups that had been used.

“Yes, my prince.” She said with a small smile.

Mab, the youngest of the three, was 13 years-old by now and the best reader and writer between her sisters. She had used the time he had spent fostering away to work on her literacy and Joffrey had her now apprentice under Marwin when she was not on rotation to serve in his rooms.

In a few years or at the latest when he became king, he would need more staff that could be trusted to sort and read his mail.

Chapter 32 Chapter Text

1857 AC Red Keep, King’s Landing

Hedda snorted softly while she reread Joffrey’s musings about Harrold Hardyng. From what Jeyne had found out, he hadn’t distinguished himself much in his later years either.

Said woman was currently frantically taking down notes and ideas for her newest master work. Petyr Baelish’s live story had clearly sparked inspiration in her. Hedda saw quite a few co*cktails nights in her future. Not that she was complaining.

A knock at the door let her look up and then a broad grin spread over her face. In the doorway, followed by a smiling Tywin and a surprisingly silent Erenford was Meralyn Paenymion. Her hair, like always, was silver grey and in a short bob. She wore a flattering turquoise shirt and coral jewelry, as always looking effortlessly elegant no matter what she wore.

“Meralyn!” she greeted her older colleague, standing up.

Meralyn laughed and came quickly over to hug her, sneakily peeking down at her notes.

“I see you have been hard at work. How far have you come?”

“Look at this.” Hedda said with a grin and shoved her translation into Meralyn’s hands.

There were an additional four copies, Edwin had printed them out in anticipation of their arrival.

Hedda was so occupied with watching Meralyn’s every expression that the clearing of a throat startled her. When she looked up she was confronted with the sight of Dr. Clegane in front of her. She had completely forgotten how quiet he could be.

“Barath.” He grunted in greeting.

“Clegane.” She answered with a nod before she heard a huff behind her.

Uh oh. Jeyne was already gearing up for another clash with Clegane and said man was clearly looking forward to it, the arrogant grin spoke volumes.

“Why if that isn’t Jeyne Marsha.” In that particular tone that always got a rise out of her.

“You… you.” Jeyne face was turning red in fury and he hadn’t said more than a handful of words yet, just great.

“Me.” He smirked back at her for a short moment, before turning his attention back to Hedda.

“So Barath, have you found any evidence about my ancestor.”

Hedda sighed and then pointed at the page that first mentioned Sandor Clegane.

Howard begin to read and then began to grin, “I will be damned, so grandfather was right.”

He then grabbed the briefcase he carried with him and deposited it on Hedda’s primary work desk and pulled out a box made from black leather.

It contained medieval knife cushioned in black velvet. At a closer look Hedda recognized an elaborate stag head burned into the hilt. It was visibly old and well used.

“Is that…” Hedda gasped before whispering, “Is that a knife of Joffrey’s retinue?”

She couldn’t believe it. Why the heck was that not in a museum? Or at least a climate controlled depot?

“It is.” Howard agreed smugly, “It has been in my family for over 500 years.”

“Howard, why is that not in a museum?” Tywin asked beside her, sharing her opinion.

“Because it is a family heirloom? And don’t insult me, this is a climate box and we have appropriate facilities for artifact storage back home. I had my sister send it to me when I heard about the journal. There are several other things stored there as well. Including a dragonglass knife and Sandor Clegane’s longsword.”

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s solar

The next five months went by exceedingly fast. It was business as usual for Joffrey, most of the days he was in private lessons with Lord Jon or shadowing the man at court with additional theoretical lessons from Daven and of course his martial lessons occurred every day but Sunday without fail.

Jousting was turning out to be one of his least favorite exercises. He wasn’t abysmal at it, but with his current size it was very hard work to keep both the horse and the lance under control. Not to mention that it was hard to create enough force to be able to hit the targets presented to him and absorb the shock and not be thrown of his horse.
Joffrey’s frustration with that martial skill was a source of endless amusem*nt for Ser Jaime. His uncle had taken it upon himself to oversee that part of his training, being an excellent jouster himself. Tyrion later told Joffrey that Jaime was also worried about possible accidents, especially with what happened to Willas Tyrell.

Otherwise Joffrey was invited to various outings and celebrations around the city and attended a carefully curated handful. He made sure that he was seen walking the streets by the smallfolk and patronizing shops of all kinds of professions as well as giving alms to the poor.
He had his Crown Prince Works set up carts on holy days where they handed out soups and stews for free. The Crown Prince Works were also expanded into other profitable areas. Offering work to widows and the very poor, while also including free daycare for the mothers. They produced small everyday things like clothing, candles or crockery from which a percentage was given to the orphanages around King’s Landing and the very best was sold in various shops. Joffrey made sure that all the businesses running under the name of Crown Prince Works had an aspect of charity to them and visibly served the betterment of the smallfolk. From the rumors and the general positive attitude towards him, it was noted and appreciated.

This in turn painted a rather large target on his back for Targaryen and Blackfyre supporters.
A fact that Joffrey was aware of, but which he accepted as a necessary risk. He needed as much support and trust from even the lowest ranks of society if he wanted to survive the next decade.

As a precaution though he avoided any further trips to Oak Valley Hall, he would not offer anyone a chance to attack him outside the well-guarded Red Keep, at least not while the spider was still alive. Varys was a rather looming threat to Joffrey these days, from the books he knew that the eunuch was more than capable of killing him should he get Joffrey alone. Thank everything Joffrey hadn’t been left alone since the incidence with Baelish, Sandor had taken exception to him sneaking down to the kitchens without protection.

On another note, Lord Harwin Langward, the Master of Laws died peacefully in his sleep. Ensuring that Renly finally got a seat on the Small Council as he had wished. Though other than in the books and TV series, this was a duty that his uncle would have to take seriously.

Joffrey ensured that with the simple action of taking an interest in the position.

Renly who never had any true interest in book learning, wisely, took the advice of Lord Jon and employed the scribes that had been working for Lord Langward. They would take care of keeping the appropriate records for the office and sort through the boatloads of correspondence filled with legal matters from all the Crownlands and a few letters from further afield.

Renly in turn presided twice a month over court cases that did not reach the Hand of the King, otherwise he left that task to the people underneath him. Joffrey’s interest in the proceeding uncovered additional corruption, but in no way as bad as what had happened in the office of the Master of Coin. Lord Langward had been dutiful enough and the people he employed were at least not incompetent.

In a clearly desperate attempt to actually find something that suited his interests Renly took a special interest in the Gold Cloaks. After Janos Slynt’s execution for working together with Baelish, the position had been given to Ser Jacelyn Bywater, who had been considered a strong contender for the captaincy of the Mud Gate. Ser Bywater had, in the last months since his appointment, begun to reform the Gold Cloaks and was now enthusiastically supported by Renly, who along with Loras had worked out a training program for the City Watch.

Wading through the corruption had been, like so many times before, left to Lord Jon. Joffrey really would have a problem if he did not find a competent hand once he sat on that throne.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Joffrey’s apartments

Joffrey was reading his weekly allotment of law treaties on his balcony when noticed Massey coming through the door.

With a curtsy she said apologetic, “My prince has given the order to inform him at once the moment certain people of interest enter the city. Ser Swann arrived this morning by ship and is in turn seeking an audience with your highness. He will be given an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, if that suits?”

Joffrey nodded at that, “Where is he staying?”

“An reputable inn along the docks, my prince.”

Which meant that Balon wouldn’t be at risk of being murdered in the night. Good. Joffrey could guess what the freshly knighted man wanted. In the last few months a large variety of people had gathered in King’s Landing to await the start of the Northern Progress.

After the route of the Progress had been announced many of the lords and nobles had in turn announced tourneys and celebrations. A fact that had quite excited the nobility around Westeros and many a knight had publicly entreated the King to allow him to ride in the Progress. Which Robert of course had granted jovially. By now their entourage was easily in the thousands and Lord Arryn had started to put restrictions on who could join in the main host. Swann was probably trying to land a place through his acquaintance with him. Joffrey was planning on granting it.

The next day, after his normal lessons Joffrey made his way to the public solar he had received after his appointed as crown prince. It was in the lower parts of the Red Keep and once a week he met with a careful curated number of petitioners. Marwin was, as always, working in the adjourning room, listening with one ear, while at the same time sorting through mail.

“Ser Balon Swann, your highness.” Mab announced, before she discreetly faded into the background.

Joffrey rose when the 17-year-old entered the room. He had shot up even more in the year they hadn’t seen each other.

“Your highness.” Balon greeted him solemnly with a deep bow, “I thank you for the audience.”

“Sir Balon, welcome to King’s Landing. I take it you have arrived for the Progress?”

Sir Balon seemed a bit embarrassed by that and bowed his head low, “My prince is not wrong… but it is not the only reason. A year ago when we first met… you… indicated an interest in taking me into service?” he explained, voice becoming unsure to the end.

Even better.

So Joffrey nodded and let a smile grow over his face, “I did. May I take this as your acceptance, then? Your Lord father agreed?”

Ser Balon relaxed in turn and nodded, “My lord father has given me dispensation from our line of succession. Should my older brother be unable to succeed my father, my younger brother Clifford will be next in line.”

Joffrey allowed himself a surprised expression, “You mean to swear fealty to me directly. Not become a temporary companion or sworn sword? This path… are you aiming to become a Kingsguard?… are you certain? Such an oath is for life.”

“I am aware, your highness. Tis a decision that I have debated for moons. If you will have me, I will be yours to command.”

To his left Clegane shifted slightly and Joffrey let his eyes wander to his protector. The man gave him a small, sharp nod before his eyes turned back to Balon. So he clearly approved of the young knight.

“Very well. I accept your fealty Ser Balon. I will arrange for an appropriate ceremony in the coming weeks. Where are you currently staying?”

“The Mermaid Inn, at the Mud Gate.”

“Then please collect your belongings and return to the Red Keep. There will be a room ready at your return.”

Ser Balon nodded, the solemn expression vanishing for a moment while he smiled at Joffrey before he left the room with another deep bow in his direction.

“Mab, please arrange that.” Joffrey addressed the girl across from him.

“Across from Master Clegane?” she clarified.

“Yes.” Clegane agreed gruffly.

Joffrey was certain that this was mostly so that Sandor could keep an eye on the young knight.

Chapter 33: Chapter 33

Chapter Text

1857 AC Red Keep, King’s Landing

Hedda was torn between being elated about the historical artifacts currently present, and horrified at the cavalier way Clegane was handling such priceless treasures.

Jeyne on the other hand just exploded and began to lecture Clegane in a furious voice that was more a hiss than anything else. Clegane stood there and just took it, smirk firmly in place while he watched as Jeyne was coming closer and closer until she was physically stabbing her pointed finger into his chest. By then he was practically looming above her… and was he ogling her?

Hedda’s eyes found Tywin’s and she rolled her eyes at him. Her friend and colleague just grinned back at her, clearly very much amused at the sexual tension that was nearly visible.

Erenford had thankfully left the room to do gods know what and behind Hedda sat Meralyn who was completely unbothered by all the noise. Her hero was attentively reading the already translated pages with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Ah… Dr. Barath?” Edwin asked quietly from the side, clearly uncomfortable with Jeyne’s atypical behavior and trying not to draw attention to himself.

“Edwin, Hedda is fine….” Hedda said soothingly, feeling pity for Jeyne’s intern.

“Ah, yes. Dr. … Hedda. You asked me to organize a hotel room. I found one just across from the Stark Park. Gertrud’s Garden. Is that alright?”

“Oh that’s perfect. I know where that is. Thank you Edwin.”

The young man just nodded and then went back to his notes, while also keeping an eye on his irate boss and the smirking Clegane who was now leaning into her personal space.

“50 bucks on next week.” Tywin murmured from her left side.

“No deal.” Hedda declined.

As if she would fall for such an obvious sucker bet.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Once Joffrey informed his father about Ser Balon’s intention, the oath of fealty ceremony was quickly arranged to take place in a handful of weeks. That would give the members of House Swann enough time to make any necessary preparations and to take a ship to King’s Landing.

Lord Gulian Swann arrived with his other sons and his wife, Lady Joanna. Balon’s father was going grey at the temples and walked with a slight limp. He was also beaming proudly while he watched as Balon took his vows to Joffrey in front of the court. Afterwards there was a feast held in honor of Ser Balon and Joffrey noticed Lord Swann talking to various Crownland lords. Just as many of his peers he was using the opportunity to network, maybe even look for potential brides for his other sons. The Swanns spent three more days in King’s Landing before they returned to their seat. So Joffrey gave Balon leave to spend time with them before he began his new duties.

As knight directly sworn to the crown prince, Ser Balon was entitled to food, lodging, weapons, armor and a weekly stipend from Joffrey’s purse. Currently Ser Balon was still wearing the armor and swords that his birth family had commissioned for him, but Joffrey had already given the appropriate instructions to the royal armorer of the Red Keep.
Joffrey may prefer armor and weapons from Tobho Mott, but his prices were only affordable for lords, and Joffrey cringed at the thought of having to equip all of his knights and men-at-arms with armor and weapons forged by Mott. It would not bankrupt him, but it would certainly hurt.

Ser Balon was also outfitted with clothing and various accessories that carried Joffrey’s personal insignia, those would be worn in addition to the Swann symbols to mark his dual allegiance to anyone knowledgeable in heraldry.

Balon was also put through the ringer by Clegane and the rest of Joffrey’s knights and men-at-arms. All of them wanted to assure themselves that Joffrey hadn’t made a mistake with taking on the young knight. With satisfaction Joffrey noted that Balon was meeting every challenge head on and impressing the people around him. It was evident that he would be one of the finest fighters in his retinue.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It was during these first weeks of Ser Balon’s new duties when Lady Myranda Royce arrived in King’s Landing. She was escorted by a retinue of Royce and Arryn guards and accompanied by her father, Nestor Royce as well as several personal maidservants.

Myranda Royce was six and ten years old, short, buxom and had a permanent smile on her lips. Standing beside Lord Arryn she was the very picture of youth and vitality. That impression didn’t change when Joffrey took it upon himself to introduce Lady Myranda to a variety of court ladies. A task that should have fallen to his mother, but Cersei was clearly unwilling.

Myranda, or Randa as she preferred, was a bit of a gossip but Joffrey thought that her cheerful demeanor and her clearly well-meant comments easily made up for that flaw. He had the feeling that nothing would keep her mood down for long. A trait that would hopefully let her survive well enough in this viper nest.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep, Great Hall

The new Lady Arryn was married to Lord Jon in a short ceremony only two days after her arrival. The small feast afterwards was rambunctious as were many Red Keep celebrations. Lord Jon was used to the capital’s way and tolerated it ever so patiently. His bride didn’t seem to mind either, she was cheerfully conversing with members of the Vale party that had been placed around her and seemed not at all bothered by the lewd direction the feast was taking.

Joffrey, well versed in the pacing of King’s Landing weddings, had already moved his guards into place, so when the call was taken up for the bedding ceremony, Ser Hoster Algood and Ser Kennos of Kayce were quick to block the path to Lady Randa. Her brother, realizing what opportunity Joffrey’s guards had given him, hastily joined his sister and with Vale guards on all sides he escorted her to the wedding chamber with barely a tuck on her skirt.

“Joffrey!” Robert complained good naturedly, “You are taking all the fun out of this tradition.”

Joffrey smirked at his father and shrugged his shoulders, “Lady Randa is to be Lord Jon’s wife. She has made a very favorable impression in the last two days. Out of respect for both of them, I will not let people paw at her.”

Nestor Royce and quite a few knights in his employ beamed at that statement. Obviously flattered that the crown prince was honoring the new Lady of the Vale.

His father on the other hand threatened playfully, “Don’t think you will get away with this at your own wedding.”

“That’s still a long way off.” he shot back and hastily made for his own rooms.

His exit was followed by cheerful laugher and Robert’s playful threats of arranging a match for him rather sooner than later.

With luck Robert would forget his threat and by the time it was Joffrey’s turn, and hopefully he would once again get away with such a maneuver.

296 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

The New Year celebration following the lowkey wedding of the Hand of the King was far more sumptuous than in the years before. Not only was it the first semi-public occasion for the new Lady Arryn, but it was also the last feast before the start of the Northern Progress.

Joffrey had to admit that the cooks and stewards of the Red Keep had outdone themselves. There were 14 courses presented to the 600 members of nobility. The entertainment was a tasteful mix of music, various acrobatic groups and mummer plays, and there were no sideshow acts or grotesques to amuse the masses.

That was something Joffrey had made quite clear to the stewards of the Red Keep after Tyrion had become Master of Coin. There would be no mocking of his uncle or making him uncomfortable, not even from his mother. A fact that his father was aware of and had gleefully backed with a royal degree. His mother was furious with Robert, conveniently forgetting that Joffrey had been the origin of the idea.

Once the formal part of the feast was over, Joffrey leaned back and let his eyes wander over the tables and through the garden. Everyone seemed to have a good time, or at least that was what he thought until his eyes landed on Stannis who was at the edge of the merriment, grinding his teeth.

Wincing Joffrey stood up from his seat and walked over to the elder of his uncles. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clegane slowly making his way over as well. Baelor too watched him, but he stayed at his seat once he saw Clegane moving.

“Uncle. Is something not to your taste?” Joffrey asked quietly once he had reached Stannis.

“One would assume the king would have a bit more restraint after the near debacle with the Treasury.” Stannis grunted just barely audible, his cup with lemon water clenched in his fist.

After his latest patrol on sea Stannis had been informed about the Baelish situation when he had arrived for the Small Council session. Joffrey had not been privy to what his uncle had said in private to Robert, but according to Lancel who had stood outside, the brothers had nearly come to blows. Since then they had exchanged maybe a handful of words.

“I had an eye on the budget, uncle.” Joffrey murmured back, smiling pleasantly, “We can afford it comfortably.”

Stannis snorted, but his mood was not as dark as it had been before.

The two began to wander closer to the battlements that hemmed in the royal garden on the seaside, a place where they would see anyone trying to listen to their conversation well ahead of time.

“How is Shireen?” Joffrey asked, desperate to change the topic.

“Well. She is taking an interest in the construction of ships. The books you have sent her and that leather organizer are never far away.”

Joffrey beamed, “I am glad she finds use for it.”

Joffrey had come up with the design for it while remembering the modern pencil cases and organizers used for school. It had been a nameday gift for Shireen and had on the left several compartments for quills, inkstone and well and other miscellaneous things, while the right side had several separating sheets that could store documents and letters. It was reinforced with thin wood and the overlapping closing mechanism would ensure that nothing would fall out once it was closed. The outer cover was decorated with the Baratheon sigil and books and ships, all things Shireen liked.

He had received an enthusiastic thank you letter in return and ever since their correspondence had been geared to seafaring.

“How are her swimming lessons? And did you have the opportunity to take her on a short trip around the island?”

Stannis grunted again before he sighed, “Fine. She has been practicing diligently in the Dragonstone Bay. Tell me Joffrey, why do you find all this necessary?”

“You live on an island uncle. I feel much better with my cousin learning to swim… also… she is currently your heir. Shireen is very intelligent and hardworking, teaching her about your domain until you have son cannot hurt.” Joffrey coaxed.

“She is likely to remain my only heir.” Stannis finally said after a long while.

Joffrey was surprised that there was no bitterness audible.

“…would that be so bad?”

“She is a girl.”

“She is intelligent, thoughtful and willing to learn. That makes her already a better prospective liege than many of the male heirs present in King’s Landing.” Joffrey said frankly while watching the feast happening in front of them.

Stannis snorted, clearly in agreement with him, but he added, “Again. She is a girl. Some lords will think her not fit to rule… especially those damn Targaryen loyalists.”

Joffrey turned his head to look his uncle in the eyes and slowly said, “If anyone tries to take my cousin’s birthright away from her. I. will. destroy. them.”

He whispered the last part softly while for a short moment Joffrey allowed Stannis a glimpse at the well-hidden temper he was concealing under manners and a cheerful demeanor.

Let him see Joffrey’s willingness to defend Shireen's rights, even if he had to use violence.

As far as rebirths went, his was turning out to be rather fortuitous, even with all the backstabbing and a zombie war looming, Westeros had become his home. He had gotten horribly attached to these people, flaws and all. Joffrey had long since decided that he would allow himself to be selfish and partial concerning certain topics. He would ensure that the people that he loved would get what they wanted and more. So when he promised people like Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon that he would take care of their children, he damn well meant it.

Stannis stared at him and then chuckled softly. His shoulder relaxed incrementally and then he turned his head to look over the calm Blackwater Bay.

“And here I thought Jon Arryn succeeded in taming the Baratheon temper in you. My mistake nephew. It seems as if it is just better hidden than in Robert and myself…”

Chapter 34 Chapter Text

297 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

The days after the New Year celebration were busy while the last preparations for the Progress were underway. Robert had decreed that they would leave on the 15^th of the month and it seemed as if every day more and more people were arriving in King’s Landing. All the taverns and guesthouses were full and prices across the city had risen between 50% and 300%. All the businesses that Lord Baelish had invested in were making profit and in turn the Treasury was resupplied after the spending during the New Year feast and all the other celebrations of the last weeks.

Tyrion and Lorence were well pleased with the revenues and even Lord Arryn, who had been dreading the Progress and all the expenses that it would incur, was in an affable mood once he had seen the bottom line for the last month.

On another note, the leather organizers that Joffrey had commissioned for Shireen had kicked off the launch of dozens of similar products created by the leather craftsmen and carpenters. Joffrey himself had bought a bulk of these products for his bailiffs, scribes and various assistants, all adorned with his personal sigil.

He was rather pleased that providing a sketch or an idea here or there had started an avalanche of new inventions and adaptations to old products that helped boost the economy. No matter if he held a patent or not, with all the businesses he had a stake in these days, he would certainly profit.

Joffrey used the last days before their departure to make his rounds with the people that would stay in King’s Landing. His uncle Tyrion being one of them. The poor man was still working through the aftermath of the Baelish fiasco even six months after it had happened and finally found a series of the man’s bolt holes only weeks before. Tyrion at least didn’t seem too upset about the missed chance of seeing the northern parts of Westeros.

“While I would like to visit these places, I will gladly miss the posturing of various lords in front of the King. Maybe once I have spent some years as Master of Coin and have trained up some reliable staff I will catch up on those travel plans.” Tyrion said with a shrug.

Joffrey nodded and made a mental note to ensure that Tyrion would receive reports from Joffrey’s budding spy operation to keep up with Varys. That would hopefully go a long way to hinder the spider from spreading too much chaos while he was out of the capital.

The Crown Prince Works on the other hand would stay firmly in the hands of the mercantile Lannister cousins that had been developing Joffrey’s budding ideas into a large business empire and publicity stunt. Joffrey rather doubted that they would need help from his uncle. He had left them with enough options and ideas to expand and diversify for the next four years and the only thing that he was a bit frustrated by was that he would miss them starting up the permaculture farms on the eroded farmland he had bought about half a year ago. On the up side, by the time Joffrey returned they should have the first viable results of using natural fertilizer on exhausted fields.

“Before I forget, I have a little early nameday gift for you. Rumor has it that you have become fond of Valyrian steel objects… I made an astonishing discovery in one of Baelish’ bolt holes in the city.” Tyrion said between sips of his wine glass and indicated to the chest on one of the side tables.

Curious Joffrey got up and wandered over, the chest was not locked and contained various miscellaneous objects made of Valyrian steel. Including a dagger, a breast plate and a left knee protection that was from a completely different set of armor.

“Baelish had this? How did he… never mind. You are really gifting them to me?”

Tyrion laughed and toasted him, “You made me Master of Coin, nephew. Do not deny it, Lord Arryn would have never suggested me… it might be a lot of work but it certainly has its benefits. Most importantly it gives me freedom from my father and so you bloody well can have whatever you want from me… though I am curious, what do you intend to do with it?”

Joffrey slowly traced the engraving on the breastplate before he answered, “I am going to melt it down and make myself a sword.”

Joffrey was certain that he would need it in the near future.

Tyrion stared at him and then began to laugh, a bit hysterical, “Why my father never thought of that, I wonder.” He murmured softly.

Joffrey looked at him and whispered with a wink, “Then it will stay our secret until I have the sword assembled. Grandfather can do the same AFTER I have my own sword.”

Tyrion snorted and raised his cup in a toast, readily agreeing to keep that bit of information from Tywin as long as necessary.

Later that night Joffrey hummed softly while he carefully stored the Valyrian objects along with the pieces he had already collected. He couldn’t be sure, but with the stash he had received from Tyrion he should have enough to create at least one sword. For a long moment he thought about commissioning the work right away before he decided against it. It would be at least a year until he returned to King’s Landing, the sword could be very well stolen if anyone found out about the commission. Instead the chest was simply locked and covered with an ornate throw blanket and some pillows to give it the appearance of another seating arrangement along the wall.

With the skeletal servant and guard crew he was leaving behind, Joffrey was certain that sooner or later one of Varys’ little birds would find their way into his chambers and solars. For that reason his correspondence and ledgers were transported to Saffron Rest where they were stored in heavy chests in some of the hidden dungeons of the brothel. Ros would carry the key to the cells at all times and the key for the chests would be in the hands of Massey, who would travel with him.

Marwin and Maege had strict instructions to compile the more sensitive correspondence in a separate ledger and after passing on the information to the right people it would be handed over to Ros in regular intervals to fill up another chest.

Joffrey was under no illusion that some information might find its way to Varys, but he could at least make it as hard as possible for that man.

Leaving Maege behind had been a difficult decision. She was one of his most trusted servants, a fact that was well known in the Red Keep and which would make her a convenient target for Varys. Joffrey feared, rightfully in his opinion, that something could happen to his budding spy master. On the other hand removing her now while she was in the process of establishing herself in King’s Landing and the Red Keep would potentially set the whole operation back by several years. So he hardened his resolve and instead gave the guard captain that would stay behind strict instructions to offer protection to the people working for him. That Maege was their top priority was a given.

297 AC, King’s Landing, Tobho Mott’s workshop

Joffrey smiled at Gendry who had set up the various Dragonglass knives and daggers he had been working on for the last half year.

“We will certainly find a use for those on the hunts that are scheduled. Thank you, Gendry.”

“My pleasure.” Gendry answered with an awkward smile.

The smith apprentice had changed his attire slightly. He was still wearing that worn leather jerkin and wool undercoat that protected him during his work with an open flame, but his boots were of much higher quality, as was the linen shift peeking out beneath the wool.

“I made something else.” Gendry admitted after a moment of silence and pulled at a small leather pouch that also sat on the work bench.

He held it out to Joffrey who curiously pulled it opened and took out a small stag head pin made from steel with an oval dragonglass stone between the antlers. It was obviously carved with care and polished to a shine and the red-black stone was reflecting the light beautifully.

“I thought… well, you will be gone for your nameday and…” Gendry stuttered.

Joffrey bit his lip and sent a genuine and open smile at the older boy.

“Thank you, I like it very much.” Than he couldn’t help but ask, “I didn’t know you could make pieces that fine. This looks more like the work of a goldsmith.”

Gendry grinned sheepishly, “Well, many lords and knights want embellishments on their plate armor. Normally the older apprentices are responsible for that, but we have been swamped with orders this past year. So everyone that has a bit of talent in working the finer details has been given additional lessons and then put to work. I have been practicing a lot.” Then he looked around at the other people in the forge and slightly lowered his voice so that nobody would be able to hear him, “Master Mott has been very satisfied with my work… he might… he said that he might teach me to work Valyrian steel if I keep up the pace at which I am developing my craft.”

Joffrey stared at him wide eyed before he grabbed Gendry’s callused hands and squeezed them.

“You will. I have no doubt.”

Gendry smiled back, clearly embarrassed but also rather pleased about Joffrey’s conviction.

Hidden from the eyes of the other forge inhabitants Gendry gently closed his fingers around Joffrey’s smaller ones and squeezed back for a moment before he let go.

Joffrey left the forge with Gendry’s weapons, gift, well wishes and a lingering warmth in his heart.

297 AC, King’s Landing, Red Keep

Two weeks after the New Year celebration the Northern Progress finally began.
They said goodbye to Lord Jon in a grand ceremony, Robert officially named him ruler in his name until their return. Then the royal party headed a procession through the streets of King’s Landing to the Lion’s Gate where they would take the road in direction of Lannisport and onto Casterly Rock. They were followed by a train of about 2000 people made up of nobles, knights and other hangers-on.

Joffrey was elated at how enthusiastic they were greeted in the streets. There was even a shower of flower petals for the royal procession when they finally neared the Lion’s gate. Out of the corner of his eyes Joffrey could see Jaime twitch his hand to his sword before he let go again. His uncle had been careful to keep himself between the crowd and Joffrey during the whole ride through the city. Sandor was behind and to his left, just as vigilant. Ser Balon rode further behind, mixed with the various household guards and sworn knights to the royal households.

The moment they crossed the city limits a vanguard of riders separated from the main train and made haste down the Gold Road.

Beside him Jaime let out a sigh, relaxing his posture a bit and ordering a group of royal men-at-arms to fan out to Joffrey’s left and in front of them.

Robert grunted and waved at another two sets of men-at-arms to mirror the action on the other side, ensuring that a large group of guards was surrounding them from all sides.

Robert then rode a bit closer to Joffrey and put his hand on his shoulder, “You will keep to Clegane, your uncle or me at all times boy. Especially on this part of the road. The forest makes it nigh impossible to see anyone coming from a distance.” He muttered gruffly.

Joffrey nodded and then turned his attention back to the Blackwater Rush to their left. It was about the size of the Mississippi River in Minneapolis and from the stories he heard from his teachers and uncles, there were stretches of it that were even wider. Only the Mander in the Reach was bigger.

Chapter 35 Chapter Text

Lady Myranda was of a cheerful and kind disposition. Her marriage to Lord Jon, while unfortunate because of the age gap, was a blessing for House Arryn. She fulfilled Lord Jon’s most fervent wish and gave him an heir. In later years she proved to be a faithful executor of her late husband’s intentions and helped guiding her son until he reached maturity.

Their wedding was also the last festive occasion until the New Year celebration of 297 AC. The feast which was the unofficial start of the Northern Progress. A journey that brought me many of the friends and companions that would follow me throughout my life.

On the first stretch of the journey we were accompanied by my mother the Queen and my younger siblings. We traveled along the Gold Road and spent the nights in various Crownlander and Reacher holdfasts and castles. The long journey was dispersed by various tourneys and celebrations that delighted my family, but which soon became a blur of pomp and pageantry to me.

The one boon these tourneys granted me was the virtual flood of likely candidates for positions in my household guard. Any likely man was taken note of and given a ranking for further consideration, while about two dozen or so were offered positions on the spot. This expanded my retinue to the size that it should have been when I returned from my fostering and was confirmed crown prince.
The vacancies still open at the end pf the progress were then filled after we had returned to the capital. They were chosen from said pool of candidates that my guard captain had put together. A handful others, if willing, were then taken into the households of those that were near and dear to me.

297 AC, Crownlands, Gold Road

On the first day they continued to travel for another 6 hours before they reached their first destination. Hayford.

They were greeted by Lord and Lady Hayford, the latter a noble woman of six and ten that was just newly wedded a month ago. Her husband, Lord Elton Hayford was closer to Robert’s own age than his bride. Still, they seemed to get on well enough and welcomed them with all formality and pomp into their home.

House Hayford, being a Noble House of the Crownlands was expected to host as many Nobles of equal or higher station as fit inside their walls. Everyone below was afforded accommodations in the villages around their seat according to their rank and the rest of the progress pitched their tents around the Hayford.

Joffrey found himself wandering the castle with Clegane after the official part of the welcoming feast was over. They steadily climbed up the battlement until they reached a tower from which Joffrey could see the surrounding forest as well as the Blackwater Rush bathed in moonlight.

“In two days we will reach the Field of Fire.” He mused softly, his eyes directed West.

Sandor grunted beside him, “Expect to see a lot of Reachers. Can’t see them missing an opportunity to show themselves in front of the King.”

Joffrey hummed softly.

“Have you seen the Field of Fire on your journey here?”

“Yeah. It’s used as a tourney space several times a year. Should be big enough to accommodate the whole progress. Heard that a two day event was planned.”

Joffrey chuckled and nodded. That was true. Tyrion, after settling into his position as Master of Coin, had taken the Northern Progress to organize crown-sponsored tourneys along the route wherever there was enough royal land. Lord Jon nearly had a heart attack at those news, only the estimated profit had kept him from forbidding this outright. Tyrion was estimating quite the tidy amount of it, even deducting the various costs and the price money offered to the participants.

In the end all those newly planned tourneys nearly doubled the length of the progress, much to Lord Jon’s consternation and Robert’s obvious delight. Only the fact that this would ensure that the costs of the progress would not fall onto the royal treasury, or at least not completely stopped their Lord Hand from protesting violently.

Three weeks later they were finally on the last stretch to Casterly Rock and Joffrey already had enough of tourneys. If he wasn’t the crown prince he would have used the time wasted to read through the newest books his people kept acquiring for him. But alas, he was the heir to Westeros and this was first and foremost a publicity tour to better his image and ensure the loyalty of nobles and smallfolk alike.

Joffrey had the hope that once they arrived in Casterly Rock, where they would stay for some weeks, he would finally get a moment to read in a quiet corner.

That evening after another feast in the presence of the local lord Joffrey returned to the wing the royal family was occupying and he couldn’t help but complain a bit.

“This is the 16^th lord’s daughter I have been seated beside and we are barely three weeks from King’s Landing.” Joffrey muttered defeated while he sat down on one of the rather comfortable chairs.

Beside him Robert laughed, “Is looking at pretty girls such a chore, boy?”

“That’s not it, father. I just want to look, not to marry them.” Joffrey answered honestly and then winced when the king began to laugh. Robert had to be audible through half of the holdfast.

“Right you are, boy. Marriage can wait a bit until you have sampled what is on offer.” He said lewdly.

“So… no betrothal yet?” Joffrey asked hopefully.

Robert grinned and hummed, “Very well. As prince and my heir, you will have to marry one day, not yet though. You are still only eleven. So it is understandable that you haven’t quite acquired the taste for women yet.”

Joffrey very visibly let out a breath of relief before he muttered, “Not to mention that the interesting ones are all at least a head taller than me.”

“Size doesn’t seem to stop your uncle.” Robert shot back, clearly amused by the conversation.

“… True.” Joffrey conceded thinking of Tyrion and his penchant for whor*s.

The next day Joffrey used the opportunity to get a few hours of sword practice in before they continued their journey. Today he was facing Robert after warming up and it was going as well as Joffrey had expected. Which meant poorly. So nothing new there.

Robert snickered while he watched as Joffrey righted himself once more.

“You remind me of Stannis as a lad. Just as lanky, just as stubborn.”

Joffrey grinned back at him, “I can only hope I will have the same growth spurts as him. Just… let’s hope I can keep my hair a bit longer.”

At that Robert guwaffed loudly before he rotated his sword and then attacked again.

“Sword up, boy. Let’s see how long that stubbornness will last.”

Joffrey took a step to the side before he lifted his sword in defense, resigned to the fact that the rest of the day would be far from comfortable.

Since the start of the journey Robert had lost at least a quarter of a stone and was visibly fitter than before. He still wasn’t the fighter that he had been during the Rebellion, but regaining more of his former battle prowess would only help when they would go to war in a few years.

It was also intriguing to watch Robert charm nobles and smallfolk alike during the Progress. You wouldn’t think so but when he was in a good mood, Robert Baratheon had something magnetizing about him, you just wanted to be his friend. Wherever he went people were smiling and having a good time and in turn Robert seemed to soak up that kind of positive attention like a sponge. He was in a far better mood than Joffrey had ever seen him in King’s Landing. Robert was downright mellow and didn’t even seem to mind holding judgement a handful of times in various larger settlements when he was begged to.
Lord Jon had been wise to send along two of his closest staff to advise the King on matters of the law.

Cersei meanwhile was also in a spectacular good mood. The moment they crossed into the Westerlands she began to point out holdfasts and castles, as well as other interesting landmarks to them. She even deigned to ride on horse for short stretches, mostly beside Joffrey while she softly whispered her skewed sense of the world into his ear. Joffrey just smiled and tuned her words out, enjoying the attention she was paying him. Those occasions had become rare, both to his relief and consternation.

Shortly after they had entered the Westerlands Joffrey had pulled Sandor aside and asked him quietly if he wished to visit his family’s keep. To which he received a rather violent no as an answer. It was what he had expected, but not asking would have been also rude. So Joffrey simply nodded and then changed the topic. The fact that Gregor Clegane would be present for their stay at the Rock was no comfort to either of them.

297 AC, Westerlands, Lannisport

The first thing Joffrey saw when they were finally in seeing distance of the Lannister Seat were the large walls of Lannisport and then behind and above it, Casterly Rock.

The walls of both were whitewashed and formed a stark contrast to the green and grey surroundings, the roofs of the various buildings were all covered with dark blue slate. They were the same color as the stone he had seen in a quarry cut into a hill only an hour ago.

And everywhere Joffrey could see there were red banners with golden lions on them.

“This my love, is the might of House Lannister.” Cersei said softly, obviously filled with pride.

Joffrey could only nod, it was an impressive sight.

He was just about to ask her how it had been like growing up here when he noticed a large amount of men pouring out from the Lion’s mouth.

“Looks like father noticed we are here.” Jaime said amused before he grabbed Joffrey’s shoulder and whispered in his ear playfully, but with a serious gaze, “Do not show weakness in front of the old man. He has been known to eat those that show weakness.”

Joffrey turned around and nodded, grateful for the concern his uncle was showing.

Cersei scoffed at that before she gently carded through his wild locks, “Joffrey is a lion, there is nothing for him to fear or concern himself with.”

Jaime and Joffrey’s eyes met, clearly disagreeing with the statement but both kept quiet.

Chapter 36 Chapter Text

1857 AC Red Keep, King’s Landing

Hedda sighed in relief when the majority of the historians present decided to split up for the day. Look, she was happy about their company and contributions, Erenford being the only exception, but when she translated she mostly needed some peace and quiet and not people speculating or arguing in the background. Yes, having a second opinion was important, but that’s what second, third and fourth drafts were for.

Meralyn after reading the already translated pages and taking in the atmosphere of the room, had clearly picked up on that and then excused herself after some hours. According to her she had scheduled dinner with some of her friends in King’s Landing and there were also some phone calls she had to take care of. Not that Hedda was really surprised about that, after all Meralyn had practically abandoned a dig for a more interesting project and tempers would have to be managed and meet ups rearranged. She would probably rejoin them in two or three days once everything was smoothed over.
Clegane meanwhile had been browbeat by Jeyne into leaving his artifacts in the climate controlled security vaults of the Red Keep during his stay… Hedda was pretty certain that the director would insist on having them scanned and cataloged in turn but that was not her problem.
Tywin on the other hand had a guest lecture tomorrow morning and still needed to prep for his class.

Which meant that she should have at least one day of translating in peace before they were back to looking over her shoulder.

My first visit of my grandfather’s dominion filled me with awe. Of course I was told countless stories by my mother and uncles about the Westerlands, but it was something different to experience it. When we finally arrived at the coast I could barely tear my eyes away from the imposing sight in front of me. Both Lannisport and Casterly Rock were impressive in their own ways.
Unlike King’s Landing, the city had been planned with expansion in mind and developed less rapidly. As such there was not the same space problem that King’s Landing had faced in the time of my youth. The city was in a location that was as beautiful as it was advantageous, with a port equal in size to King’s Landing, maybe even bigger. Well maintained streets, large homes and well-dressed people told a story of wealth and privilege. And so did the red banners and golden lions present everywhere you looked. Lannisport certainly lived up to its name, situated at the foothills of Casterly Rock, it displayed the wealth and power of House Lannister without them ever having to open their gates to those they considered lesser.

Casterly Rock… it certainly made an impression on anyone approaching it. The castle towered above everything around it and was the largest castle I had seen to date. With countless walls, gates and watchtowers it dwarfed the Red Keep by leagues.

It was seemingly impregnatable, imposing and the irrefutable seat of power in the Westerlands. No wonder my mother’s arrogance knew no bounds.

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, northern training yard

“Joffrey, you are wide open on your left.” Jaime called and brought the prince back to the here and now.

“I’m sorry uncle, my mind wandered.” He answered before he concentrated back on his opponent.

They had arrived yesterday and the feast that had been given in honor of their arrival had certainly been extravagant and sumptuous in ways even Joffrey rarely experienced. The entertainment was sophisticated and appropriate and their accommodations outrageously lavish. Those parts were all things Joffrey had expected. It was what hadn’t happened that unsettled him more.

Tywin Lannister had spent all his time talking to Robert and the various more influential lords accompanying them. Joffrey and his siblings had been greeted and studied for a moment before clearly written off as inconsequential for the moment. Not that Joffrey had anything against escaping scrutiny, but it certainly put him on something like tenterhooks. He was quite sure that sooner or later Tywin would test the next generation of his family and Joffrey would rather know beforehand and not be caught off guard.

He had found it hard to fall asleep that night, thoughts racing of possible ways Lord Lannister would test him. In the end he had given up out of sheer exhaustion and vowed to himself to NOT change anything about his normal behavior. There was no point, clearly Tywin Lannister would meet him on his own terms, with no input from Joffrey whatsoever.

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, library

So after morning practice Joffrey took a quick bath and then found himself in the library of Casterly Rock. A large room, well-lit through a series of high placed windows. It was quiet other than the dull roar of the water crashing against the cliffs and the sound of the sea gulls flying by. Joffrey could understand why Tyrion had sought out this environment, far away from the disapproving eyes of his father. It felt comforting and Joffrey let himself relax, he had so few opportunities for some quiet reading ever since leaving King’s Landing so he should make the most of this, who knew what the next days would bring. To his right Sandor found a place half hidden in the shadows of an arch and settled into guarding him.

“Found anything interesting?” a deep voice asked from beside him.

Joffrey just barely refrained from jumping out of the chair and stood up to show his respect to the man addressing him.

“Lord Tywin… grandfather.” He greeted before his eyes wandered to the book he had been reading about the various rocks and precious stones, “It is an interesting read I have to admit. There are a lot of books here that cannot be found in the Red Keep’s library.”

“You enjoy your reading then, Joffrey?” Tywin asked neutrally.

Joffrey laughed, “Depending on the topic and the author, but yes I’m a rather fast reader according to master Devan. I have been told that I am to thank you for sending him to King’s Landing?”

Tywin’s expressionless face stayed the same while he enquired, “He has been a good teacher?”

Joffrey nodded easily, “I was unaware that I was not challenged enough in my studies until master Devan began teaching me economics and mathematics.”

Tywin nodded, a satisfied glint in his eyes though his cold expression did not shift for a moment, “Devan has been full of flattery for you since he arrived in King’s Landing. He is not known to give undue praise, but I find his assessment somewhat hard to believe. You will follow me to my solar, I will determine your progress myself.”

“Yes, grandfather.” Joffrey nodded, what else was there to say. It was time to find out if the old lion found him worthy or wanting.

In any case, Joffrey would not find a more opportune moment of solidifying his position as the desired heir. He just had to hope that he met the expectations of Tywin Lannister, otherwise things could become a lot harder for him then they needed be.

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, western solar of the royal apartments

“So I heard you spent your time with father today?” Jaime asked while he sank into the chair opposite Joffrey, eyes curious.

“He wanted to ascertain the progress of my education. He was not quite convinced of Daven reports.” Joffrey said with a sigh and leaned back.

The afternoon had certainly been highly stressful. Tywin Lannister was not someone that was satisfied with rote learning and had made Joffrey explain theories in other terms than the ones that were the most commonly used ones in texts. He had also viciously attacked various of Joffrey’s opinions and conclusions, never showing even a sliver of approval or indication that Joffrey had answered something correctly.

Glancing at his uncle sprawled out across from him, he had to wince. Jaime was most definitely dyslexic, he generally avoided books like the plague and preferred to dictate his letters to an acolyte or maester instead of writing them himself. It must have been hell growing up under a demanding taskmaster like Tywin Lannister.

Joffrey sighed deeply and put the book aside, he had been staring at a page for a long while now without being able to grasp the words on it. His mind was still to occupied with his exam.

Jaime grinned across from him, “Sounds like you had fun.”

“I have no idea if I met his expectation, or passed a minimal threshold, he did not show any indication. Every question he posed to me was followed up with additional ones that grew so convoluted and esoteric that I could barely keep my wits. He took apart my answers and challenged my arguments ruthlessly, so much in fact that I still cannot concentrate on anything else. Whatever test he gave me, I have most certainly failed it.” Joffrey bemoaned, one hand massaging the back of his nose, he was developing a headache.

So much for solidifying his position as an capable heir to the throne.

Jaime actually grinned at that, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. My father doesn’t suffer fools. That he kept on testing you for longer than a handful of minutes is a good sign. Otherwise he would have not wasted his time.”

“I certainly hope so.” Joffrey grumbled, “At any case, if I want to have any chance at reading anything else in the next weeks without my mind wandering, I have to reread Maester Unwin’s treaty of the wars of the three Daughters again and puzzle out was Lord Tywin meant. Hopefully that will give me some peace.”

Jaime actually laughed while Joffrey left the room in a huff.

On the way to the library Joffrey took a side trip to the rookery where he penned a short message to Tyrion.

Uncle Tyrion,
your father is impossible.
JB

There. Hopefully his uncle would suffer some of the same confusion he was currently experiencing. Maybe he even caught Varys with that cryptic message as well. Joffrey had no problems with spreading the wealth.

By the snort from Sandor he certainly was entertained by the whole situation.

One long research evening later Joffrey leaned back in the hard, not upholstered leather chair and sighed deeply. His grandfather had a point about the Wars of the Daughters and damn all of it to hell, now Joffrey was questioning several of the conclusions he had come to about various wars and trade embargos in the last two centuries. He let the graphite pencil drop and put his head into one hand. He was not pouting, he was not.

Behind him Clegane cleared his throat and stepped up to the table. Joffrey glanced up at the unusual interruption.

“You should go to bed. This headache can wait until tomorrow.”

Joffrey sighed, glanced back at his notes and slumped further into his seat. Then he pushed back out of the chair and stretched. His sworn shield meanwhile pulled his notes and writing utensils together and settled them into his binder before closing it.

“Time for bed.” He repeated, taking the leather binder under his arm.

Joffrey hummed and yawned but obediently followed Clegane out of the library and let himself be led back to his rooms.

Massey sat in one of the seats close to a candle and was mending something. She looked up and then without any comment helped Joffrey remove his clothing and offered him the wash basin. As one of Joffrey’s two main stewards these tasks were no longer part of her duties, but that didn’t stop Massey from occasionally lending a hand. She often took the time as opportunity to report to him things of a more sensitive nature. Though today she didn’t seem to have a topic to discuss.

Massey took the fireplace tongs and fished out a small copper can that had been sitting directly in the flame. The boiling hot water inside warmed the rest of the water in the basin so that Joffrey didn’t have to use cold water to do a quick wipe down.

Clegane meanwhile completed his nightly check of his bedroom and the attached balcony before he once again practically melted against a wall.

By the time Joffrey had slipped into his night clothes and climbed into his bed he was only half awake. Tiredly he noted that Massey pulled the blankets further up around him and then doused the candles. She banked the fire and then quietly left the room, shortly followed by Clegane who was sleeping in the next room. As always in shouting distance.

Chapter 37 Chapter Text

Meeting Lord Tywin Lannister for the first time since my toddler years was an experience.

For the first two days after our arrival I was practically ignored by my imposing grandfather. A fact that I was actually relieved by, as it gave me time to observe him and those closest around him.
He was aged, true enough, but he made a far fitter impression then Lord Jon, this man could still wage wars if he wanted to. And then there was his demeanor, Lord Tywin was self-assured and resolute but there was no additional pomp. Why would there be? He was the undisputed lord of the Westerlands and an equal to the King in terms of charisma. Which was something I had experienced rarely up to that moment.
Lord Jon was political powerful, but he was a scholar and an administrator at heart, he did not have the bearing of a true king. Not like Robert when he was in a good mood, and not like Tywin to whom it seemed to come naturally.

From all the stories and comments of my uncles I had deduced that he was a difficult man to please, so I was not the least bit surprised to find myself in his solar, once he deigned it convenient, where he inspected my academic progress. I was confronted with ever more difficult questions while many of my conclusions were put into question. It was a harrowing experience, one that haunted me in the days to come. At that time I was only 11 name days old and Lord Tywin seemed like an intellectual giant, somebody who I would never be equal to. I felt exposed, rattled and insignificant in his presence even if I did my best to not show it. Maybe he did that on purpose, maybe not. It was certainly a formative experience, one of many that helped me prepare for my ascension to the throne.

In any case Lord Tywin Lannister was without a doubt a brilliant politician with a knack at finding pressure points and obtaining the best possible outcome for himself and his goals. It was no wonder he had been the Hand of the King for nearly 20 years, even under such an unreliable ruler as King Aerys. I am quite certain that the only reason the Mad King had lasted this long without a rebellion on his hands was because my grandfather guided and ran the realm for him. The moment he resigned from his position, everything spiraled out of control for the Targaryen dynasty.

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, royal apartments

The morning after the impromptu exam with Tywin, Joffrey discovered that he had slept in somewhat. For a moment he panicked before he realized that today was one of his off days from exercise and he fell back into his pillow, staring up at the lavishly embroidered ceiling of his four poster bed.

Now that he had slept and was no longer frantically reconsidering theories that he had been certain of, he felt a little bit silly. So what if he had overlooked an aspect of the whole situation. True, that wasn’t ideal from a researcher point of view, but Joffrey wasn’t. Joffrey only needed to know that such a thing had happened and that it was a possibility and how to circumvent the consequences for Westeros. What the cause was didn’t make much difference in the long run. And just because Lord Lannister had made a good point did not devalue a sound strategy to fight the symptoms of the cause.
In fact he was relatively certain that his grandfather had done this on purpose. Gaslighting Joffrey and cementing himself as an undeniable authority figure would certainly help if Lord Tywin wanted to influence royal policies in the future.

Joffrey sighed deeply after that realization and turned to his left. Some of his servants must have already been here this morning because there was a set of clothing laid out for the day.

He pulled himself out of bed and stretched while he considered his options in dealing with his grandfather carefully. In the end he came to the conclusion that his grandfather would take action as he saw fit and Joffrey could not change that just with his behavior. Instead he would need to remind himself to stay vigilant as to not fall into a manipulation that harmed his overall plans.

Joffrey sighed deeply while he rubbed his temple thinking about how easy it was for him to fall into the trap of just living in the here and now with all the excitement happening around him. He needed a way to remind him of the coming hardships, as well as what had already happened.

A journal would probably be helpful. Still Joffrey hesitated for a moment longer. He had purposefully avoided that option until now out of the simple reason that spies were everywhere in the Red Keep.
But maybe now the benefits outweighed the risks, especially if he kept it to the bare minimum and used English instead of Common. After another moment of contemplation Joffrey finally walked over to the study and plucked a new journal from a chest and began to summarize what had happened on the Northern Progress up to now. Already he was planning to start a second journal that would contain his childhood years and fostering, but that would have time. He speedily completed his task and locked the journal back into the chest and left his rooms to find breakfast, for today Joffrey was done with being responsible. For the rest of the day he wanted to explore Lannisport and take a look at the famed goldsmiths and enjoy the sights around him.

Tomorrow was his 11th nameday and he was certain he would have to do enough politicking then.

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, tourney grounds

Joffrey’s 11^th nameday celebration was as opulent as he had suspected. His grandfather held a tourney in his honor outside of the Lion’s mouth. With the participants of the Progress and most of the Westerlander nobility in attendance, it was a crowd of thousands that watched a variety of competitions that happened at times simultaneously. There was everything, from sailing competitions over archery to horse races as well all the typical events like melees, mock battles and finally the joust.

During the events Joffrey had found the archery competition especially entertaining with the increasingly difficult tasks they had to accomplish. To the surprise of the audience, the trick shot that finally won had turned out to be a young woman in very loose clothing and short hair. Joffrey sighed deeply when he noticed that the announcer was hesitating to award her the price money. The man was clearly about to make a fuss, so Joffrey had Clegane bang his reinforced glove against the dais to call attention to their party.

When he was certain that the announcer had recognized who he was, Joffrey raised an eyebrow and gestured negligently, “What are you waiting for, hand her the price money. She certainly earned it.”

There were soft murmurs around them, but now nobody dared to speak contrary and the announcer hastily did what Joffrey demanded.

The woman turned around and bowed deeply to Joffrey before she took her winnings and vanished in the crowd.

Joffrey thoughtfully again and then turned to one of the sergeants in his retinue that stood close to the stairs, “Tell the captain to also pay attention to the women participating. It would be a waste to dismiss somebody competent just because of their gender.”

“Yes, my prince.” The man murmured, expression unsurprised.

In the late afternoon the finale of the joust took place. Joffrey was rather excited because it was Jaime against Balon Swann. He hadn’t even realized that Balon was so good at jousting.

His great-uncle Ser Kevan had hummed in approval when the match was announced before commenting, “You certainly know how to pick your companions, few as they seem to be.”

“Thank you great-uncle.” Joffrey murmured back, smiling, “I have plans to rectify those numbers in the coming months.”

Kevan nodded thoughtfully, “Tis certainly a very interesting way to go about it.”

Uncle Jaime won in the end, after a thrilling 9 lances. His experience had given him the smidge of advantage that was needed to defeat the younger and slightly stronger Ser Balon. It was also obvious that Jaime delighted in the match. Without waiting for the announcer he slipped of his horse and walked up to Balon to help him to his feet and clap him on his shoulder. Joffrey couldn’t quite make out what Jaime said to him, but it must have been a compliment because the normally so solemn Balon was practically beaming.

Afterwards the flower crown and the title of Queen of Love and Beauty was of course awarded to Cersei, who graciously let herself be crowned by her brother. His mother was visibly pleased with the outcome and all the attention that was paid to her.

XXXXXXXXX

That evening under the eyes of nearly 800 nobles Joffrey was presented with a, what seemed to be, never ending line of gifts. Because of the sheer number Joffrey was just expected to take a quick look before the next gift was presented to him. To the side he saw two of Marwin’s senior assistants and Mab adding discreet labels with the names of the nobles that had given the various gifts to him before they were carried out by Casterly Rock servants to be stored somewhere secure. Joffrey was certain that it would take them weeks to write out thank you cards to the various nobles that were in attendance today. His public relations team could certainly use some additional help. Hopefully Marwin was already training up additional assistants in King’s Landing to handle Joffrey’s correspondence and social obligations, after all they wouldn’t become less the older he got.

In any case that night Joffrey received a plethora of precious fabrics, rare wines, jewelry, ornate books, furniture, weapons, horses, even small objects made from Valyrian Steel and a large amount of miscellaneous knickknacks that were made from one precious material or another.

One of the highlights that stood out to Joffrey was the naming of one of the galleons in the Lannister fleet after him. The Prince Joffrey was a gorgeous ship that was currently being built in the shipyard of Lannisport and one of the bigger ones to date. Quietly Joffrey promised himself that if there was no war looming when the ship was ready, he would definitely take a trip on it. For now he could only look at a miniature made from wood that had been presented to him when the gift was explained.

That presentation of the gifts took nearly two hours and was happening in the back part of the Lannister Hall, the front part was used for entertainment of the guests and especially the king.

Robert was surrounded by knights discussing the events of the day, as well as the plans for the coming days. There were several hunts planned in the Lorenwood. A walled in, wooded area that was about four times the size of Lannisport and had served as the Lannister hunting grounds for centuries. They had several dozen retainers and their staff taking care of the game there. Joffrey had been fascinated to learn that this included animal husbandry, so that there would always be enough game on hand to hunt for House Lannister and any visiting nobility.

After the last gift bearer had made his bows Joffrey slipped out of the chair and made his way to the front of the hall to rejoin is companions.

“Joffrey. Finally finished? Come here, this concerns you as well.” Robert’s voice was easily audible over all the other noise in the hall.

Joffrey adjusted his path and soon found himself seated on a bench between the King of Westeros and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

Robert beamed down at him and clapped him on the back, “You may be only 10 and 1 name days old, but you are tall and handy enough in the use of a bow. So tomorrow you will experience the pleasure of hunting large game.”

Joffrey couldn’t help but stare up in shock. In Westerosi society, boys of noble station only began to hunt large game around fourteen or fifteen years of age. And that with good reason, hunting always bore a risk of the hunters being wounded or killed by injured prey. At eleven Joffrey was at a higher risk of getting seriously injured, but Robert seemed unconcerned.

“Your uncle Renly, the cad, has already taught you how to hunt small game without my permission, so he will have to watch from the sidelines as we hunt for deer!”

Joffrey snorted, so that was the reason, and beside him Renly sighed theatrically, “Did I not tell you that Robert would hold this against me once he learned about it?”

Joffrey looked amused at the man on his other side, and then his smile became grateful when Renly discreetly handed him one of the few alcohol-free drinks available on the table.

“You warned me.” Joffrey agreed after taking sip, suddenly quite thirsty, before he turned his attention back to Robert who was loudly bemoaning the fact that his brothers had been taking up so much of Joffrey’s time, leaving him no time for his old father.

Joffrey snickered and settled in to spend some time listening to Robert entertaining the masses while around them the Lannister servants were preparing the tables for the feast that was about to come. Which was just as well, he was starting to get peckish again.

Chapter 38 Chapter Text

297 AC, Westerlands, Casterly Rock, western battlements

Joffrey stood on the battlement and stared down into the hissing sea.

“You should be preparing for your journey.” Tywin’s unexpected voice said from behind him.

Joffrey had to suppress the urge to jump, his grandfather had been sneaking up on him during the whole visit and Joffrey was determined to not give him any outward reaction. Beside him Sandor shifted back further into the shadows. Joffrey was well aware that his sworn shield found the whole situation funny and never gave any warning, the bastard.

“Most of it is already done, and my stewards are taken care of the last details. I detest to do everything at the last moment.” Joffrey offered with a mild smile.

“Wise.” Tywin agreed, “You look wistful.”

“I would have liked the chance of boarding a ship here and travel up and down the coast.” Joffrey admitted.

“I hadn’t pegged you as a man of the sea.”

“While I was fostering with uncle… Lord Stannis I spent most of the time on a ship. I learned to love it well enough and seeing an unfamiliar coastline makes me itch.”

“I was led to believe that you had stayed mostly on Dragonstone.” Tywin said with a frown on his face.

Joffrey laughed at that, “Certainly not, uncle Stannis detests Dragonstone. I was there maybe for a month in total during my fostering.” Then he sobered up, “I do feel bad for my cousin, though. Shireen is trapped on that rock with her mad mother and no companions but the old Maester, a fool and some servants. While she is not the prettiest, she is a bright and well-read girl and has a sweet nature.”

Tywin didn’t comment on Joffrey’s musing and turned the topic back to his own interest, “I take that you do know how to swim, after being on a ship for months.”

Joffrey nodded, “I knew beforehand. I had uncle Renly teach me in a shallow lake when I was eight. Uncle Stannis oversaw my swimming lessons in the sea in various ports and on some empty isles. He is a hard taskmaster but his lessons are well worth it. I gained a lot of knowledge about sailing and the royal fleet during my stay.”

Tywin nodded at that, not smiling but seemingly satisfied with Joffrey’s actions.

“Take every opportunity to better yourself, it will serve you well in the future.”

Joffrey nodded, small smile on his lips. After their initial encounter he hadn’t expected to come to crave spending time with Tywin Lannister, to want to gain his approval. He was a harsh man that was unwilling to give compliments to anyone, but whenever he spoke, Joffrey gained another perspective on things. He wouldn’t ever wish to be like the man in personality. He was too forceful in the way he was getting what he wanted, to unwilling to try diplomacy for Joffrey’s taste, but people of his political and business acumen were a rarity and even rarer was the opportunity to learn from them.
So in the two weeks they were on the Rock Joffrey spent as much time as he was afforded in the company of Tywin Lannister. His grandfather did not pull his punches. Joffrey received a crash course in manipulation and coercion with himself as target more often than not. He was taught the use of a strong reputation and how to reinforce that belief in his bannermen, how to read the signs how much force was enough and when to make an example of a person. It was as horrifying as it was awe-inspiring and Joffrey had to constantly remind himself to guard against getting manipulated into starting down that way, and he wasn’t sure he was succeeding.

For a moment there was silence between them, then Joffrey felt a hand on his shoulder, “Jon Arryn has done an adequate job in preparing you for the politics around the Iron Throne, but remember you are not an Arryn, our words are not High as Honor. You are of my line and of the line of House Baratheon. Diplomacy will only get you so far, in the end only a strong King will be able to make the rest of Westeros submit. Never forget that.”

“Yes, grandfather.” Joffrey murmured obediently.

What else could he have said to that? It was true after all.

At least he was now quite certain that he had passed Tywin’s test adequately enough to not be considered a fool that needed to be managed for the good of the Realm and the Lannister name.

297 AC, Casterly Rock, Royal apartments

“Do you really have to go.” Myrcella said softly.

“I do sweet sister, but I promise I will write to you and bring back trinkets.” Joffrey said with a small smile, kissing Myrcella’s forehead before pulling her into a hug.

Behind her he could make out his mother and Lady Genna along with their ladies-in-waiting and some servants.

He looked up and smiled at his mother. She smiled back, content at watching their interaction and clearly pleased to be back in the Westerlands and surrounded by what she considered worthy people.

Cersei was not yet aware that Lady Genna would take Myrcella in hand to install a political awareness in her as princess of the realm. His great-aunt was truly wasted on her Frey husband and sons, who were also a disappointment. So it was just as well that Genna spent most of her time in Casterly Rock, acting as one of Tywin’s eyes and ears and running the household along with Kevan.
His great-uncle too had made a good impression on Joffrey. He was a guiding presence in Casterly Rock, seemingly involved in everything and far easier to approach than his intimidating older brother Tywin. As such Joffrey was glad to learn that Tommen would serve as his cup-bearer during his stay at Casterly Rock, starting him down the path of becoming a knight.

To Joffrey’s relief the education of his siblings was one of the easier conversations that had with his grandfather. Tywin had immediately understood Joffrey’s misgivings and had agreed to enforce the lesson plan of both younger royal children so that their mother’s overindulgence would not ruin them. For a short moment Joffrey had been able to see the disappointment on Tywin’s face at his daughter’s failings before his mask had restored itself.

Ripping himself from the memory Joffrey looked down to his younger brother. Of the two of them he was more worried about him than Myrcella. His sister had already shown some resistance to their mother’s instructions, only complying when she agreed with it or there was no other way around it. Tommen was a far gentler soul and he would need encouragement and a steady hand in the next handful of years.

Said boy had kept quiet during the whole exchange with Myrcella, though there were tears in his eyes and he was clearly not trusting his voice to keep steady. Joffrey sighed and released Myrcella to pull Tommen into a hug as well, lifting him up and settling him on his hip. At six name days old Tommen was developing a self-awareness of his position as prince and what a public image was. Still this was his little brother that he wouldn’t see for a year or longer, Joffrey felt that he was allowed to cuddle both his siblings while they were still so young.

“Be good. I will write and once I am back we can make up for all the time spent apart.” Joffrey murmured softly into his hair.

Tommen just squeezed his neck tighter and buried tears into Joffrey’s doublet. Joffrey pressed a kiss against his forehead and then sat him down beside Myrcella, who was now also tearing up.

“Oh dear.” Joffrey sighed softly, while he gently ran his hands over both blonde heads.

He had arranged for a whole slew of tutors to come to Casterly Rock and teach both his siblings anything and everything that could be useful in the future. Joffrey just hoped that Cersei’s ire at this would land at Tywin’s feet and not at her children’s. After all he wasn’t here to mitigate the emotional damage, though he had made Lady Genna and Ser Kevan aware of the possibility. That was hopefully enough, it had to be.

297 AC, Westerlands, Coast of Ironman’s Bay

Joffrey hummed while he added another repetition to his daily sword exercises, careful to not get sloppy even at the end. He had noted that his endurance had grown once again and the set of exercises that would have had him wheezing and close to exhaustion only half a year ago was now only eliciting slightly elevated breathing and some sweat. It was a relief to see the adjusted training schedule working as intended.
Behind and beside him Ser Balon let out a grunt when he finished his own sets of repetitions, far more complex and with additional weights to heighten the difficulty. Joffrey sent him a small smile and then grabbed one of the wooden cups with boiled water that had been prepared for the exercising members of Joffrey’s household. He drank half of it while his eyes swept over the men-at-arms that had joined him for his early morning routine.

Ever since the start of the Northern Progress Joffrey had been consuming vast amounts of protein, even more so than when he had been living in King’s Landing. Joffrey was eating like a child athlete intend on gaining weight and muscle mass, and that was showing in the progress he was making in the training fields and in the rate his clothing had to be adjusted.
At first he had thought about limiting his food intake but that would have been nearly impossible without insulting their host of the day. So instead Joffrey had sat down with his trainers, guards and uncle and came up with a plan to accelerate his martial training to prevent weight gain like Robert had done and make use of all that additional nutrition to advance his skills.
A training program that the knights and men-at-arms in his retinue also made use of, if at different levels difficulty. After all he wasn’t the only one that was dealing with an overabundance of food.

For the last six weeks the Northern Progress had enjoyed the hospitality of Westerlander holdfasts and castles while they traveled up the Western Coast to Seagard. That meant that besides the obligatory deer, boar and bread, fish and seafood were the main staples of their diet. During that time Joffrey’s attendants had become skilled in detecting the few fibrous and vegetable-rich dishes that were offered at those feasts, and putting together meals that were as balanced as they could manage with the offered variety. Additionally there were always apples, walnuts and roasted chickpeas on hand to provide an easy healthy snack that could be eaten cold and on horseback when necessary. There were even several occasions when Joffrey’s handmaidens raided wild raspberry and blackberry bushes during moments of rest.

The growth spurt that Joffrey’s master-of-arms had prophesized him at the beginning of his new training regime had begun to kick in about three weeks after leaving Casterly Rock and had his household scrambling to finish new clothing. Much of Joffrey’s current wardrobe was being packed up already to be sent back to King’s Landing where it would be put into storage until his younger brother had reached the right height, like always. There was no need to throw the clothing away, those fabrics had been expensive and Joffrey had barely worn them.

For obvious reasons, the task was done without the knowledge of their mother, as always she had her own notions about what was good enough for her lions. In Cersei’s mind a prince was too good for handouts, even if they came from his older brother.

Chapter 39 Chapter Text

1857 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep

Hedda sighed contently while she leaned back on her terrace chair, enjoying her cup of coffee after a luxurious breakfast courtesy of the breakfast bar of Gertrud’s Garden. Her mood was excellent, she had slept well, had eaten and the progress she had made yesterday was also very satisfying.

Absentmindedly she let her eyes wander over to the park stretching out below her. Stark Park was the only park inside the original city wall of King’s Landing. It had been built sometime around 650 AC as far she could remember, after an earthquake had destroyed many of the less sturdy built homes in King’s Landing. Especially the area between the Lion’s Gate and the Gate of the Gods had been hit hard, killing tens of thousands. In an act of charity and to gain good publicity after some scandal in the generation before, House Stark at the time had bought some of the land from the commoner families that had no other choice but to sell. They had then created a public park ringed with Stark owned buildings. Quite a few of those were still in possession of House Stark even today, including Gertrud’s Garden.

It was a surreal sight, the massive trees that were hundreds, if not thousands of years old in the middle of a bustling city like King’s Landing. Hedda had heard that there were still about a dozen or so of the original trees alive that had been planted at the opening of the park. These days the members of the King’s Landing department of parks and several Kingswood Guild members were carefully watching over them. Especially the massive weirwood tree in the middle. Even now its crown of lush red leaves stretched out over most of the other trees around it and drew the attention of the people passing by. It was one of the few uncarved Weirwood trees that Hedda had ever seen and probably the largest.

“Oh good, you look well rested.” an amused voice said from behind her.

Hedda turned her head to look at a smiling Meralyn.

“Good morning.” Hedda said with a nod and basked in the background noises of Wolf Street while Meralyn ordered a coffee for herself.

Once the older woman had taken a sip Hedda finally asked, “Could you sooth the ruffled feathers?”

Meralyn snorted, “Well Nyessorno was not happy, but I have participated in such digs in the Vale of Shadows several times already. I have directed him to some colleagues of mine that will be more than happy to participate and have the same expertise.”

Hedda shuddered at the thought of the Vale of Shadows, necromancy had developed into a phobia for her during her teenage years.

“I know that these digs are carefully guarded, but nobody would ever be able to convince me to participate in a dig in a known necromancer cemetery.” She admitted honestly.

Meralyn looked at her amused but she conceded, “It is not for those with faint hearts. Especially if the tomb owner enchanted corpses to act as guardians. The first time I encountered that I was shaken for quite some time, but I promise you Hedda, the necromancer institute of Asshai takes those digs very seriously. The national guard is always at hand and Nyessorno Faeniros is one of the most powerful curse breakers alive. They know what they are doing and they also know how important those digs and the curse breaking are. Necromancer magic only grows stronger with time, not less. The necromancer and cruse breaker institutes of Asshai have been working on reversing the damage done to the Shadowlands for nearly a century now and only now the first results are visible. Did you know that they are now able to keep some of the more hardy plants alive in the city? For over a millennia now water and food has to be transported to Asshai because nothing will grow there and plants and animals die within a handful of weeks. That is a massive success for the Asshai institute.”

Hedda listened fascinated while Meralyn regaled her with amusing stories from the digs she was already on and the surprising facts they had learned from the opened tombs. It was not Hedda’s cup of tea, but she conceded to Meralyn’s point that it was important that such digs took place.

“…wait. Shadow Assassins are not a myth? I have found anecdotes about them in some of the older Maester texts, but most of them seemed to think them a hoax.” Hedda asked incredulous.

Meralyn shook her head, “They are real or at least there were. Though probably not in the sense that some people might have thought, after all they are not sentient. They are created during a ritual that is a mix of blood and sex magic. The shadow-binder is the one that sets the target and goal of the shadow assassin while the partner offers up his energy and lifeforce to create the shadow. Though mind you, those ‘partners’ were mostly drugged slaves that were made willing with aphrodisiacs or mind manipulations. After all it is the partner that is drained of their live-force. Some of my colleagues in Asshai even speculate that they gave up between 10 and 20 years of their own life to create such a being. According to various texts in Asshai the longer the being was inside the shadow-binder to be infused with their will, the stronger they grew. On the other hand there were also enough comments about shadow binders losing control and the assassins literally tearing them apart, that anyone who tried this kind of ritual, had to be exceedingly powerful and mad enough to do it.”

Hedda shuddered, “Meralyn, thank you for the glimpse in your work, but I think I will keep to my specialization. Could we change the topic?”

Meralyn snigg*red at that, “Of course my dear, though I have to admit I am surprised. Medieval Westeros is not for the faint hearted.”

At that Hedda grinned ruthful, she was well aware of that. She had translated some truly horrifying torture manuals directly after her graduation.

“I am aware. I know that it is not rational, my aversion has more to do with the fact that I snuck into a viewing of the Necromancer’s Tomb when I was 15 that gave me nightmares for months. I have never truly been able to get rid of that bias. I heard later on that it is disturbingly accurate?”

At that Meralyn looked sympathetic, “I saw that movie as well, but that was because a colleague of mine consulted on it. It is rather accurate… and not at all appropriate for a 15-year-old.”

Hedda grimaced, “I am aware.”

“Well then, let’s return to our young Joffrey and his Progress through Westeros.”

“Let’s.” Hedda said with a relieved smile.

297 AC, Westerlands, Seagard

From their vantage point on the hill Joffrey could clearly make out the Seat of House Mallister and the adjacent port town beside it.

Seagard was a pretty enough port town with grey cobbled streets and well sized buildings along the major streets. With a population of just under 60.000 people it was of respectably size for a Westerosi city. But after visiting Lannisport, and having to listen to several Riverlander knights praise the might and beauty of Seagard, it was a bit of a let-down. Seagard wasn’t even ¼ as big as Lannisport and there were more signs visible of the poor smallfolk living behind its walls even from this far away.

After overcoming his initial disappointment, Joffrey focused on the more interesting landmarks of Seagard. The city walls were tall, and heavily reinforced to the seaside to guard against the Ironborn and the castle itself was a square rectangle that towered several times over the houses built below. More importantly, there were dozens of scorpions and catapults on the many towers that dotted the wall.

With the very real threat of dragons in Joffrey’s future it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a feel for Westerosi anti-aircraft weaponry early on. So he made a mental note to have whoever was tasked with entertaining him lead him up those battlements.

The Royal Progress was greeted at the city gates and then escorted up to the castle by Lord Mallister himself, in fact he was the first Riverlander Lord to house them.

Lord Mallister was a jovial man who was eager to welcome the royal guests and even more eager to forge connections with the nobility accompanying them.

His son Patrek Mallister was given the task to entertain the eight year younger Joffrey during his stay at Seagard. At first cautious, the newly knighted Ser Patrek soon exuded the same good cheer as his father as he served as a guide through the streets of the port city. He regaled them with amusing anecdotes about his ancestors and then helped Joffrey gain access to the restricted guard towers that housed the scorpions. Joffrey listened fascinated and with great attention to the tower captain that was responsible for the upkeep and training on the war weapon. The scorpions were regularly serviced and tested every couple of months, a routine that had been in place since before Aegon’s Conquest. According to Ser Patrek the initial design of the scorpions had been attained from Volantis before the carpenters and armorers of House Mallister had improved upon it throughout the centuries.

They were on the way back to the Great Hall after an afternoon filled with tales about fights against pirates and the Ironborn, when their path was blocked by a gaggle of giggling teenage girls, all of noble birth. Joffrey felt himself tense and beside him he saw how Ser Patrek barely suppressed an unhappy scowl.

After a tense moment Ser Patrek said, “Cousin. May I ask what leads you here? I was under the impression that my mother had need of you and your friends today.”

“We were just returning to aunt Jeyne’s solar, cousin.” The girl in the middle said innocently before she pointedly curtsied deeply in Joffrey’s direction, followed immediately by her friends.

Ser Patrek looked somewhat helpless by now but did what had to be done and introduced them.

“Your highness, these are my cousin Lady Flora of House Nayland, Lady Brunhilde of House Haigh and Lady Ursula of House Hawick.”

All of minor Riverlander Houses, which made their presumption of demanding an introduction to the crown prince even more blatantly rude and completely out of line. To get this farce over without further engaging with the situation, Joffrey nodded curtly in their general direction before a shrug of his shoulders had Sandor move in direction of the girls and forced them to scatter like the silly geese they were. His retinue and Ser Patrek followed him in silence.

Only when they were safely out of earshot did Joffrey deign to comment on the situation, “I trust the young ladies will spend their time in the company of a septa during the Progress’ stay?”

“With certainty.” Ser Patrek gritted out.

If this were the modern times their forwardness could be excused somewhat, though even then they would have been seen as somewhat ill-mannered if they ambushed a prince to blatantly introduce themselves to him when he was clearly working and an introduction to them was in no way planned.
In Westeros, at this day and age, it could cost them their reputation and more importantly possible marriage prospects if Joffrey took offense. Their parents would sooner sent them to become septas or silent sisters then to risk the displeasure of the crown. Especially when they were only minor houses. Furthermore, House Mallister would also be shamed because this incident happened in their castle, provoked by one of their in-laws.

“Then I will forget what happened today for your sake, Ser Patrek… You were telling us about the adventures of your many times granduncle Benys were you not?”

“I was, your highness.” Ser Patrek said relieved and quickly picked up that bit of his family’s history.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was in Seagard that the first resupply shipments from King’s Landing reached the Progress. They refilled the dwindling supplies of the royal baggage train and took onboard all the miscellaneous gifts and curiosities that had been acquired since the start of the Progress and would find no use on the journey.

The same ships also carried provisions for a similar tourney like the one that had been held at the Field of Fire. This time Tyrion had organized it to be held near Fairmarket, where some royal land had been left abandoned for nearly a century now. In the time since their departure from King’s Landing he had sent some of the less vital royal stewards to supervise the construction of a suitable tourney ground and build accommodations for the thousands of hangers-on that were accompanying the Royal Progress. Fairmarket itself was renting out every available room and according to his letters the mayor and the aldermen of the nearby villages had been thrilled about the expected business that would come their way.

Chapter 40 Chapter Text

Our Journey led us up the Westerlander Coast until we crossed into the Riverlands and finally reached House Mallister. Ser Patrek, then still only heir to his father, was kind enough to entertain us with anecdotes of his family history while we explored the port city and climbed the battlements to inspect the defenses that had kept Seaguard safe from the Ironborn. From there the route took us into the heart of the Riverlands where my uncle Tyrion had prepared a magnificent Tourney that spanned several days with various events just outside of Fairmarket.

Though days before that, an event occurred that lead to far reaching changes in how I approached my personal safety. A bravo slipped into my bathing tent while I was left unattended for a moment. It is owed to my servant Fryda’s fearless use of her own dagger that I survived the experience uninjured.

The incident made me realize the value of all the warnings and precautions my teachers had impressed upon on me until then. I confess to have been shaken quite a bit by the occurrence and readily agreed to more stringent safety measures from then on.
Especially Sandor and my uncle Jaime took the attack rather personally and as such I was left alone nary a second for the coming months.

Alas this would not be the last attempt on my life, nor was it the closest call, but it certainly was one of the more memorable ones.

297 AC, Riverlands, near Oldstones

With a sigh Joffrey relaxed into the tub of hot water.

Practicality prevented him from indulging in too many baths on the road, but today after the hunt he really needed it. He did not understand how Robert was still going strong. They had spent half the day riding or walking through the forest and while they had some game to show for it, Robert’s hunger for new prey still hadn’t been satisfied, so he had ridden out once again. Renly had winked at Joffrey while he followed his brother, not tired yet either. Baratheons.

The ewers had filled the beautifully carved wooden bathtub with boiling water and Fryda had added a variety of herbs to it. The smell of thyme was soothing and the warmth of the water was relaxing Joffrey’s muscles.

Sometime later Joffrey heard as his bath attendant left the tent to collect the towels from where they were being preheated at the fire and so Joffrey was alone for a moment. With his eyes half lidded he listened to the background noise of the tent city when he registered movement at the entrance of the tent. Expecting Fryda he looked up, only to be confronted with a man dressed in generic servant’s clothes. Joffrey was about to ask the intruder harshly what he was doing in his tent when the man drew a throwing knife.

Before Joffrey could do more than tense, his would-be assassin let out a shout and crumbled to the ground. Behind him stood Fryda with her dagger drawn and widely stabbing at his back until she hit his neck and he could only gurgle wetly before collapsing onto the ground.

His shouts had drawn the attention of the guards outside whose expressions grew grim at the sight of the man on the ground.

“My prince are you hurt?” Morten, a recently taken on yeoman from Seaguard, asked worriedly. His hand was clenched around his spear and by now all the color had drained out of his face.

“No. Fryda got to him before he could reach me.” Joffrey said somewhat lightheaded.

“Get this miscreant out of here, his highness hasn’t finished his bath yet.” Said bathing attendant said coolly, she had never stopped glaring at the assassin, or lowered the knife in her hand.

Only once the corpse had been removed from the tent did Joffrey recall his manners.

“Thank you Fryda, you have saved my life.”

“I am just glad that I was quick enough, my prince. You have given me a place in your household and are good to me. Taking care of any riffraff that tries for your head is no hardship.” Fryda said with a deep curtesy.

It should have looked strange because she still was holding the dagger that was slowly dripping blood on the ground, instead Joffrey felt strangely reassured at the sight.

“Clegane is going to have a fit.” Joffrey sighed while he slowly felt his muscles relax again.

He had given his sworn sword the day off because during the hunt he was in the company of the King and afterwards Joffrey had just planned to rest, maybe catch a nap before dinner. Joffrey had the feeling that after this incident the man would most likely stand guard over his bed for the rest of the Progress.

“He won’t be in the best of moods, true.” Fryda agreed readily while she quickly wiped of the still bloody dagger on a cleaning rag.

Once finished she slipped it back into the sheath on her waist belt and then washed her hands thoroughly in a small basin, using ample amount of soap before turning once again to him.

“May I wash your hair, your highness? Or would you prefer to just be toweled off.”

“Might as well make the most of it. Who knows when the next time I will be allowed to take a bath without a guard standing inside the bathing tent.” Joffrey answered dryly, he felt still somewhat shaken but his heartbeat was slowly returning to normal.

Fryda lips quirked in amusem*nt at that before she grabbed a jug of hot water and carefully began to wet his hair down so that she could lather soap into it.
An exceedingly good scalp massage later she rinsed the soap out into a basin standing at the head of the bathtub before she gently began to dry his hair with rhythmic movements until it was just a bit damp. She proceeded to comb it out and then gather it into a high bun so that it was out of the way for now.

“Do you wish for additional hot water to be called, my prince?” she asked after checking the temperature of the water in the tub.

“No, not today. I think I better get dressed and reassure the camp of my continued survival.” Joffrey said somewhat regretfully as he stood up in the tub, he would have liked to bask a bit longer.

Fryda just hummed and held out a hand to help him out of the tub and onto the thick rug beside it before she walked over to the stack of fresh towels she had fetched before. Handing him one to dry his front while she began to gently do the same to his shoulders, arms and back while she avoided any of Joffrey’s private areas. Once he was deemed mostly dry, she turned around to move the fresh clothes to the small table beside him.

Fryda had been one of Massey’s finds and had only been in his employ since the end of his fostering, but she was by far his favorite bath attendant. She had picked up on his preferences quickly and unlike the Lannister attendants of his early childhood she did not make him feel uncomfortable or like just another task to be fulfilled.

As his personal bath attendant she did more than just help him clean himself and brush and style his hair. Fryda was responsible for ordering around the ewers to fill his bathtub and keep hot water on hand, arranged for the cleaning and pre-warming of his towels, kept track of and reordered his hygiene products that ranged from his soap, various hair oils and perfumes, his toothbrush and toothpaste to his sunscreen lotion and various other creams that kept his skin subtle. And apparently she was now also responsible for killing any assassins that were trying for his life while he took a bath. He really wanted to ask her where she had learned to stab like this. She didn’t even hesitate and was completely unbothered once the assassin was taken care of.

Joffrey shivered a bit at the temperature difference to the warm water and quickly slipped into the clothing Prim had put together for him this morning, then he took a seat on a chair in the tent.

Fryda once again ran a dry towel trough his hair, making sure to remove as much of the lingering dampness as possible before combing it again and then pulling it up into the simple high bun Joffrey preferred for private evenings. Once she was done with that she began to sort out the wet towels.

With a smile Joffrey stood up and said, “Thank you again, for the bath and my life.”

Fryda curtsied and smiled in return.

When Joffrey left the tent he was confronted with 12 of his household guards surrounding the tent and Clegane seated across the entrance, eyes glued to the opening. Joffrey felt immeasurably grateful that despite his overprotectiveness, his sworn sword had waited outside and not further disrupted his bath. Clegane stood up briskly and walked over to him, eyes roaming over his body while her searched for an injury that he might have incurred.

“I am fine. The bravo did not reach me.” Joffrey soothed his sworn sword while he began to make his way through the camp to where the royal wheelhouse and the assorted royal tents had been set up.

The only reason why Joffrey had been so far away from the rest of the household was because setting up the bathing tent right beside the river made it easier for his ewers to draw up a bath. This was common practice for all of the nobles in their retinue and there had never been any problems with the security before.

Around them Joffrey’s household guards fanned out to form a perimeter. Each and every one looked grim-faced and had their hands on the knob of their swords.

“We were clearly too lax about your security. Your guard will be doubled inside the camp.” Clegane grunted out, his face one big cloud, “… and the wenches will receive training how to down an attacker.”

At that Joffrey couldn’t suppress his surprised expression.

“Only those that want to learn. That bathing girl clearly had no problems with killing for you. And you have already given her the right tool for it. Might as well make the most of this damn co*ck-up.” Clegane said with a grim set to his shoulders, he clearly took that attempt personally.

Well, that was true. Fryda had killed the bravo with the Baratheon branded dagger she had been supplied with before the start of the Progress.

If his maidservants were willing, Joffrey certainly wasn’t going to complain about additional and more importantly underestimated guards that would serve as a last defense if necessary.

Joffrey was safely escorted to wheelhouse and settled in one of the camping stools that he had commissioned for this occasion. He took advantage of the afternoon sun to continue reading in his latest find while around him the camp began to buzz like a hornets nest.
The gossip chain in full swing was something truly frightening. The news that there was an attempt on Joffrey’s life predictably spread like a wildfire and was quickly brought to the attention of the royal hunting party.

By the time they reached camp, Robert’s fury had abated somewhat and he was at least no longer shouting but the frown and furious hand gestures made it clear that he was in awful mood. Not that Renly looked any better, his uncle had unseated from his horse while the animal was still mid trot and had stalked up to Joffrey before he unceremoniously started to pat him down in full few of various servants and courtiers. Normally his uncle restrained himself until they were at least semi-private before he became this handsy.

Joffrey had allowed him a few grabs to his shoulders and ribs before he gently took his uncle’s hands and squeezed them reassuringly.

“I was not hurt, he didn’t make it further than taking out a knife before Fryda stabbed him.”

“Your guard is too small.” Renly muttered unhappily.

“I am aware, and I am already in the progress of rectifying this. Ser Algood and Ser Brownhill are keeping notes about all the promising young knights and fighters. And you have seen that there are already more guards than I had before I left King’s Landing.”

Only a short distance away from them Robert had also unseated and was now watching their interaction with a somewhat soft expression on his face. There were also worry on his face, something that Joffrey had maybe seen twice as long as he could remember.

“Renly is right. Besides your own people I also want at least one if not two Kingsguard with you until your household has more guards. Clegane is good, but additional eyes never hurt. Ser Jaime, I will leave this to your discretion.”

Joffrey stared somewhat baffled at his father when he heard the order, though more so at the address of his uncle. Robert rarely called him Ser Jaime, more often than not he was ‘Kingslayer’.

“Certainly, your Grace.” The smooth voice of his uncle made Joffrey look up.

Hoo boy, Jaime Lannister had lost his usual arrogant smirk and his lips were pressed together in a white line. Joffrey knew this expression, though he had never seen it on Jaime’s face, only Cersei’s. His uncle was incandescent with rage. Those green eyes were nearly glowing and no one around them seemed to be able to meet his eyes. Well nobody but Sandor Clegane, whose own anger had not abated and turned his face into something truly frightening.

With a silent sigh Joffrey kissed his freedoms and privacy for the next months’ goodbye, it was nice while it lasted.

Chapter 41 Chapter Text

1857 AC King’s Landing, Red Keep

“He was 11-years old.” Jeyne muttered horrified while she marked the approximate location of the assassination attempt on the map of Westeros.

“Maybe, but it’s not really a surprise. At that age he was already known to be intelligent and competent with the sword. As such he was a threat to the interests of the Targaryen royalists that were still at large at the time. Remember it had only been 15 years since the Rebellion and people still remembered the old dynasty.” Tywin said with a shrug, “Children have been murdered for less throughout history.”

Hedda silently nodded along while she rearranged some of the wording of her latest translation passage.

On the table across from her Howard was sorting through the printed out copies of the Northern Progress manifests and lists that had survived time. He even had gone through the trouble of requesting copies of documents in private possession from the various noble Houses his family was acquainted with. Hedda was especially looking forward to the letters of Lady Westerling, one Jeyne Spicer, to her family and friends detailing the royal visit to the Crag. According to an amused Howard, the woman had bragged to all her acquaintances that she had secured matches for all 4 of her children. Even her youngest who was barely 7 years old at that time.

The Tourney at Fairmarket did not only serve as a welcome distraction after that unpleasantness but also ensured that I encountered a very dear and lifelong friend of mine, not that I knew at that time how important he would grow to me.

Ser Kirth Vance was one of the more reliable and steady people I have known in my life and I count myself so very lucky to have been his friend.
Other than the more flashy members of my retinue, Sir Kirth had a somewhat solitary nature and always liked to stay in the background and kept away from court politics as a general rule. He preferred to raise his hunting birds and roam through the woods of Westeros instead of participating in tourneys or feasts.
Furthermore while he was decent enough with a sword, Ser Kirth preferred the bow as his primary weapon, a preference that at times had elicited some derision in the uninformed. Which was rather amusing to my companions and myself, Ser Kirth was rather deadly with any kind of ranged weapon and he knew no mercy if those he held dear were in any kind of danger.

During my later life I spent countless hours tracking through the wilderness with him when I needed relief from court life and at times my own family. His company was ever unobtrusive and a balm to my very being. When asked he would voice his opinion and give counsel, but to this day I prize his ability to listen above everything else. He kept my secrets, he kept my faith. He helped me put myself back together when even my loves could not. I cannot put in words the importance Ser Kirth Vance held in my life. I can only hope and pray that my descendants will find companions a fraction as restful as he has been for my soul.

297 AC, Riverlands, Tourney Grounds outside of Fairmarket

Joffrey gamely clapped along with the crowd when one of the two jousting knights was unhorsed and the victor bowed to the royal box.

“You could have competed uncle Jaime. Father, Ser Barristan and Sandor are right here.” Joffrey commented quietly to his uncle who was standing just a step behind his right shoulder.

Only a humming sound was his answer, Jaime was clearly unwilling to entertain this idea, so Joffrey just sighed and leaned back to watch the final round of the Tourney.

Ever since the bravo incident some days ago Jaime had been in a right mood and had not let Joffrey out of his sight without a literal phalanx of guards. The only time he relaxed and worked off some of his ire was during his daily training bouts with other knights. Which led to rather more bruises and sprains than usual in his training partners.
It also reinforced in Joffrey’s mind that his uncle was without a doubt the deadliest swordsman in Westeros currently alive. Ser Barristan might beat him in experience and technical skill, but the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was no longer in his prime. Ser Loras on the other hand was just coming into his prime and was still missing a lot of that experience. In any case Jaime’s action clearly reminded everyone that there was more to his uncle than his reputation as the arrogant, carefree Kingslayer. He was a force of nature, a force that was currently standing right behind Joffrey glowering at knights and nobles passing by the royal box and making it abundantly clearly who they would have to face if they even thought about looking at Joffrey wrongly.

Once the irritation of being once more under close scrutiny had abated, Joffrey allowed himself to bask in the feeling of his uncles’ protection. Renly too had been circling around him in the last few days, which meant that Ser Loras wasn’t far away either and as such the Tyrell often kept Ser Balon company. This blatant display of protectiveness might not stop people like Varys or Illyrio Mopatis from trying again, but it would certainly make other opportunists think twice before they acted. It also send a rather nice message to the attending lords and ladies that Joffrey had the absolute loyalty and love of both House Baratheon and Lannister, no matter their strained relations on normal days. And as such the marriage alliance that had been brokered after the end of Robert’s Rebellion was fruitful.

The investigation into the assassination attempt had predictably led nowhere. Not that Joffrey had expected anything else. Tyrion might have been the only one able to find some clues if he had been present and that only if the bravo of unknown origin was not hired through a dozen middlemen, as was most often the case.
The longer Joffrey thought about it, the more convinced he became that the attempt was probably a probing of his defenses rather than an honest attempt on his life. His two primary suspects were of course Varys and Illyrio Mopatis, either acting together or one of the two wanted to test him. Joffrey didn’t think that Doran Martell was likely to do anything right now while his family had not yet secured Viserys and Daenerys. Jon Connington might be a possibility as well, but Joffrey doubted it. He was either to honorable to send a bravo after Joffrey or, more likely, he relied on Varys and Illyrio Mopatis to do his dirty work for him. In the end it didn’t matter who had sent the bravo and if it was meant as an assassination or a way to probe his defenses. It gave Joffrey heads up that somebody was out for his blood and that he better start taking more precautions.

First and foremost Sandor had sat down with Joffrey’s guard captain, Ser Hoster Algood, Ser Jaime and the King’s household guard captain, Ser Jonothor Stormfist, a distant Baratheon relation, to increase the patrols and the men watching over him. Furthermore the selection process for additional household guards and companions were now even more stringent than before. Nobody, whose loyalty could be easily bought or extorted was even to be considered. A food taster and a cupbearer were also added to the list of essential household positions that needed to be filled as soon as possible. At least Joffrey could be relatively certain of the loyalty of the cook and his assistants, they had been thoroughly vetted by Tyrion while Joffrey had been fostering with Stannis.

Joffrey came out of his musings just in time to clap with the rest of the spectators over the final Jousting round, which was won by a knight of House Royce to the delight of the attending Vale party.

The award ceremony was followed by a light lunch before Robert, Joffrey and a carefully chosen group of local Riverlander nobility, including several ladies of high rank, set out to hunt in a nearby prepared forest.

In deference of their female company, they were using mostly hunting birds, bows and crossbows and concentrating more on small game. Which was a nice change up in Joffrey’s opinion.

As such he was more engaged in the hunting process and the conversations around him than usual. Which lead to a discussion about various hunting birds with Ser Kirth Vance, the recently knighted third son of Lord Vance of Atranta.

Ser Kirth was maybe sixteen or seventeen years of age if Joffrey judged it correctly and he had received his knighthood through repelling a bandit attack on one of the villages of his father’s land. He had a pleasant cadence even if his voice on occasion still broke but more importantly, he easily kept Joffrey’s attention without falling into boasting or false modesty, which was a rarity in this life. In fact Joffrey could count the number of people who made him feel this comfortable and many of them were in some way related to him.

The hunt was nearing its end and Joffrey watched as Ser Kirth gently attached the hood to both of his own birds before he assisted one of the other nobles with his bird. His actions during the hunt were at all times calm and Joffrey had witnessed the quick and clean way he had put the caught game out of its misery. He was clearly more interested in the welfare of the animals, both the birds and the prey than any trophies with which he could boast later.

Joffrey turned his attention to Balon who had moved his horse closer once more after he had handed over of his latest prey to a huntsman.

“What do you think about Ser Kirth?” Joffrey asked quietly.

“Level-headed, competent. He would make a good addition.” Balon said frankly, already used to Joffrey’s thought pattern.

“I think so as well.” Joffrey agreed with a smile, “Now I only have to convince him.”

At that Balon snorted and shook his head, the amusem*nt clear on his face, “He is a third son, he would be a fool to reject such an opportunity.”

Joffrey wryly stared at the man that in the last months had grown to become a close friend of his, “People can have valid reasons to decline.”

Balon just hummed at that, clearly not agreeing but not interested in continuing the argument. A habit he had picked up from Jaime.

Joffrey suppressed a sigh of his own and nudged his horse forward. Best to ask this question in the relative privacy of the hunt, then the coming feast when everyone was paying close attention to the interactions the royal party had with the present nobles.

Ser Kirth was in fact delighted and happily agreed to join Joffrey’s household. So was his father, who immediately and loudly boasted with that development to anyone who was willing to listen during the feast that night. So much in fact that Ser Kirth was growing visibly embarrassed about the praise his father was heaping on him. Joffrey’s newest companion was clearly debating if he should interfere when his eldest brother winked at him and skillfully directed the conversation to another topic then Kirth’s merits.

Joffrey snickered once before he quietly remarked to Ser Kirth, “In my experience fathers tend to do this now and then. Be glad that you have an older brother that takes pity on you. I have to rely on my uncles, who at times amuse themselves with egging my royal father on.”

Ser Kirth blinked at him before his shoulders relaxed somewhat and after some moments he joined the conversation between Ser Balon and Ser Algood about the path the Northern Progress would take.

Across from them Sandor stared for a moment longer at the newest addition of the household before he nodded in Joffrey’s direction to express his acceptance of the young knight. Not that it would stop him from keeping a very close eye on Ser Kirth for the next while.

Satisfied with the current state of things Joffrey took another sip of the delicious apple juice Roslin had served him along with the creamy cottage cheese on a toasted piece of dark bread. Life was good.

The Journal of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his Name - Hermionechan90 (2024)

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

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Chapter 7

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Chapter 8

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Chapter 9

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Chapter 10

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Chapter 11

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Chapter 12

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Chapter 13

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Chapter 14

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Chapter 15

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Chapter 16

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Chapter 17

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Chapter 18

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Chapter 19

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Chapter 20

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Chapter 21

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Chapter 22

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Chapter 23

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Chapter 24

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Chapter 25

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Chapter 26

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Chapter 27

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Chapter 28

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Chapter 29

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Chapter 30

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Chapter 31

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Chapter 32

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Chapter 33: Chapter 33

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Chapter 34

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Chapter 35

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Chapter 36

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Chapter 37

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Chapter 38

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