The Young Lion

Act 2 Ch 1 Imp Arrives

It had been a month since Joffrey had that vision of the others in the far north. He assured everyone that he was fine, and carried on business as usual, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t get what he saw out of his head. He knew what he saw was real, and that the war of five kings was just a slap contest compared to the threat beyond the wall. That's why he refused to remain idle, and began making preparations and implementing his new projects. 

Following his public mass execution of Littlefinger and his conspirators, Joffrey handed down punishments to their families in order to raise funds. All the conspirators who had no heirs to their lands or wealth were seized by the crown and sold as reparations for high treason. Those that did, were ordered to pay half of their annual income and would be banned from attending court for the next six years. Anyone who couldn’t pay upfront had to send their heirs as hostages until the debt was settled. Joffrey was sending a clear message to all the other nobles about the price for treason. 

Littlefinger's holdings were all seized and most sold off to help pay off the massive debts the crown found itself in thanks to his embezzling. His brothels however were moved to a new part of the city to make room for Joffrey’s future industrial plans and renovating his citizens living conditions. The brothels were centralized and became directly employed by the crown renamed into the red light district rather than the street of silk. He gave administration authority over to Petyr Baelish’s right hand woman Ros. She was a whore from the north but was quite clever, being literate and speaking several tongues. On top of all that she knew the ins and outs of the sex trade but had more compassion for her fellow harlots than the dead snake ever did. 

Joffrey struck a deal in which the new sex workers union would pay up forty percent of their profits to the crown, and in exchange would be provided both protection and medical care to all their employees. They agreed and now the crown had another flourishing business under its wing. This combined with his already expanding industrial sector and his fledgling textile industry would see massive profits to the crown’s treasury and pay off their debts to the faith, the Lannisters, and most importantly the Iron Bank.

Joffrey was in the middle of a small council meeting with Varys, Pycelle, Lark, Barristan, and Sansa. He wanted her to start attending small council meetings to learn the secrets of governance when she became queen. She didn’t like it and found it quite boring, much rather spending time with her ladies in waiting gossiping and eating pastries. Though after he explained to her the importance of such activities and how it tied with her role as his future queen she relented. 

“The raven arrived from the citadel this morning, your grace.” Said grand maester Pycelle as a large bird cage was brought before him. “The conclave has met, considered reports from maesters all over the seven kingdoms, and has declared this great summer done at last. This was the longest summer in recorded history.”

Sansa smiled at the little white bird as it was taken away while Joffrey looked on with a stoic expression. 

“The peasants say that a long summer means an even longer winter.” Added Varys.

“A common superstition.” Pycelle scoffed.

“You have no idea.” Joffrey thought to himself, his face serious.

“How many food stores do we have for the winter season?” He actually asked.

“We have enough wheat for a five year winter, your grace” Lark answered. “Any longer and many of our citizens will starve.”

“Don’t worry I have a new agriculture project in the works, but we’ll have to wait for the war to end before we can implement it.” Joffrey responded, moving on to a new topic.

“On that note the city is overflowing with refugees from the war, your grace.” Barristan brought up after reading one of the reports from the royal guards. “Our city’s citizens are being displaced and are sowing strife among the people.”

He went silent for a moment as he pondered the news and his options.

“We’ll set up mass refugee tents outside the walls and provide them with provisions and warm clothing from the textile sector.” He announced. “That way the city’s citizens will be appeased and the refugees will have warm food and someplace to sleep.”

The small council nodded their heads in agreement and they continued. Suddenly the sound of whistling could be heard approaching the chamber. All those present turned their heads towards the noise. In walked his uncle Tyrion still covered in his custom Lannister armor still dirty from his battle with the hill tribes.

“Don’t get up.” He said sarcastically to the members as he made his way into the chamber. “Beloved nephew, we looked for you on the battlefield and you were nowhere to be found.” He said sarcastically, annoying many of the small council members.

Joffrey kept his stoic expression not letting his uncle jabs get under his skin.

“I’ve been busy,” he replied expressionless. “We can’t all spend our days drinking and whoring about now can we dear uncle.” He retorted back.

Tyrion’s face twitched at Joffrey’s comment and now that he got a better look at him his spoiled wretched shit of a nephew was unrecognizable. He had grown taller, his figure was now well muscled and lean, he had grown his hair out which now reached his nape, and he wore a stylish set of clothing from a region he couldn’t discern. 

“I see the tales of your demise were unfounded.” He said as he continued looking at his reports. “Why are you here exactly?”

“It's been a remarkable journey.” He said regaining his cocky attitude while taking the seat at the far end of the table opposite to Joffrey. “I pissed off the edge of the wall, I slept in a sky cell, and fought with the hill tribes.” He poured himself a glass of wine. “So much to be thankful for.”

“I mean what are you doing here? This is the small council chamber, not a brothel.” Joffrey asked again, agitated.

“Yes well I do believe the hand of the king is permitted at all small council meetings.” He responded smugly.

“Grandfather is hand of the king.”

“Yes but in his absence.” He then took out a rolled up parchment and handed it to a bewildered Varys.

Varys unrolled the document before reading how Tyrion had been named hand in his stead while he was away on the battlefield. Joffrey knew full and well that Tyrion would be named his hand thanks to his otherworldly memories and Varys had told him of his coming. Ever since Varys dedicated himself to Joffrey’s better world he now served him completely. He told him that Tyrion and his hill tribes were on their way to the capital under orders from Tywin. Who apparently was displeased with Joffrey's actions of public executions in the middle of the war.

He summarized that Tyrion had been sent here to get him under control and his mother as well. Though his mother had long been expelled from the capital he was more than happy to have Tyrion in the city. Out of all the Lannister children he was the most shrewd and politically astute, using his intellect to compensate for his dwarfism. He was as smart and calculating as Tywin, but possessed an actual moral compass and compassion.  He could prove to be an asset in Joffrey’s future endeavors.

“I think that's enough for one day.” Joffrey spoke to his advisors. “Take care of what we discussed and we’ll reconvene later.’ He said dismissing them from the chambers.

Everyone got up and exited the chamber one at a time, Sansa being the last to go. Who happily caressed Joffrey’s cheek and gave him a loving smile. Joffrey kissed the back of her hand and sent her on her way. After everyone was gone it was only him and Tyrion left in the chamber. He got up and sat closer to Tyrion and pulled a jug of wine away from his hands when he reached for it. 

"The young Stark girl is becoming quite the beauty." 

"Leer at her with those lecherous eyes of yours and I'll have them removed." 

Tyrion gulped slightly hearing his nephews threat and realizing he wasn't bluffing. Though he refused to display it on his face and kept his smug expression.

“How exactly did you trick grandfather into letting you become hand?” He asked feigning ignorance.

“If I were capable of tricking your grandfather I would be emperor of the world by now.” He responded looking at the jug of wine longingly. “You’ve brought this all on yourself.”

“Really? What exactly have I done?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe execute a dozen noblemen who were your supporters in a public display.” He was agitated by his nephew's stupidity. “That little bit of theater will haunt our family for a generation.”

“It was necessary.” Joffrey responded flatly. 

“Necessary? You chopped off Lord Baelish’s head and put it on a spike for the whole world to see. Now the whole Vale has risen up against us.” He said flabbergasted.

Tyrion was referring to Lysa Arryn who after hearing of her beloved Petyr’s demise took up arms and declared the Vale its own kingdom again with Robert Arryn its new king. Now the war of five kings was in full swing with Robb king in the north, Renly declaring himself king in Stormlands with Tyrells support, and Stannis putting out his claim hung up in Dragonstone with his red witch.

“Littlefinger was a snake that threatened to poison all I planned to build. It's a simple matter of how you deal with venomous snakes in your garden.” He responded silencing Tyrion. “He and the others I executed were planning to work against my interests when either of the Baratheon brothers were at our gates. I took it as an opportunity to rid my court and city of the parasites that have infected it for too long . While at the same time sending a message to the others about the consequences for treason.” He explained.

Tyrion was quite now understanding why Joffrey had done what he did. He had assumed it was just a move for a bratty child indulging in his sadistic tendencies. But now he could see it was actually well thought out. 

“I still think you could have handled the Baelish situation more discreetly.” He added not wanting to admit he was right. “Now we have to deal with the Vale on top of Robb Stark.”

“If it were discreet it wouldn’t be much of a message now would it.” He shrugged him off. “And I’m not worried about the Vale or Robb Stark.”

“Really the boy who has never lost a battle doesn’t concern you?” Tyrion asked sarcastically. “You do realize what losing the war means right?”

“And what do you know about warfare exactly?”

“Nothing, but I know people and I know our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us.” He said before looking around the empty small council chamber. “By the way, where pray tell is your mother? I didn’t see her when I walked through the castle.”

“At the Rock, I sent her away weeks ago.”

Tyrion was stunned up until that moment he had assumed that she was off ordering someone's death. He had assumed that she was the one who was really ruling while Joffrey was just a figurehead.

“Why?”

“Because she was fucking up my plans with her idiotic behavior thats why.” He was annoyed at the memory of the blonde degenerate.

Tyrion looked at his twat nephew in a new light.

“So it seems you are my hand.” He said picking up the jug of wine that Tyrion had been eyeballing, pouring him a glass.

“So it would seem.” He agreed as he took the cup and Joffrey poured himself some.

“You are here to advise me.”

“Only here to advise,” He confirmed.

They both raised their cups and took a sip from them. After finishing their toast they went back to looking at each other in silence. After a brief pause neither being able to gauge the other’s intentions, Joffrey spoke up.

“Then I'll need your assistance with some of my paperwork.” He said getting up from the table and leading Tyrion to his personal chambers. 

Tyrion watched his back for a moment before grabbing the jug of wine and cup and following behind him. Before they exited the room Joffrey stopped and looked down at his dwarf uncle.

“I want you to know, I am happy that Lysa Arryn didn’t kill you.” He said sincerely before turning and resuming their walking leaving a stupefied Tyrion behind.

Tyrion couldn’t make sense of his wretched nephew's sudden change in demeanor which was completely different from the entitled, pompous, and sadistic little shit he remembered. Did Robert’s death have some big impact on him? Could he have been possessed by a spirit of some sort? Or was he hiding his true intentions all along? He just couldn’t know as he continued to follow Joffrey out of the chambers. Little did Tyrion know how close he was to guessing what had actually happened to his nephew at that moment.