The Young Lion

Act 2 Ch 4 A Raven from the Wall

In an empty space Joffrey laid in complete emptiness, a sea of darkness as far as the eye could see. He could feel the dark frosty hands of death caressing his naked skin, with a bitter cold he had experienced before. The coldness of death, that's what he knew he was feeling. The same feeling he felt when he was blown up in his first life. Then suddenly his mind was bombarded with visions.

Of green flames consuming cities.

Of ruins of the old gods and new caste down and trampled upon.

Of burning ships  and red seas.

All the while screams of agony and death from the voices of men, women, and children alike flooded Joffrey’s ears.

Then he saw a man standing in the middle of a battlefield with scores of dead surrounding him. Mangled corpses wearing different house sigils that watered the ground with their blood as far as the eye could see. The man had shoulder length silver gold hair wearing pitch black armor and blood red cloak. He was holding a dragon styled knight helm in his left hand and a bloodied long sword planted into the ground. As Joffrey drew closer and closer the man was turning his head to face him.

But just as he was about to see the man’s face he felt himself ripped from the vision and woke up.

“Ah!” He yelled with fright shooting up in his bed.

He was panting heavily and covered in cold sweat.  

“What was that?” He thought as he held his hand to his forehead still panting.

He looked around and saw that he was still in his chambers and then began to relax his breathing. He had been having strange dreams ever since he saw the vision of the north. Sometimes it was of brutal battles, other times of conversations, and other times he imagined himself as Gaius walking around the palace corridors. Everyday it was getting harder and harder discerning what was real and what wasn’t.

“Your grace, are you alright?!” His kingsguard shouted.

“Yes, yes I’m alright.” He responded, finally regaining his composure.

“We heard you yell.” He said through the door.

“It was nothing. Just a nightmare that's all, leave me be.” He ordered.

“As you wish, your grace.” He said before Joffrey could hear his footsteps moving away from his door.

Joffrey got up from his bed and got a drink of water from a pitcher, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He began to wonder why he was having these strange dreams and why they felt so real. He knew he couldn’t voice them to anyone around him, else they would start to believe he was going mad. So for the time being he decided to go clear his head, he got dressed into his morning training clothes and went out to perform his morning conditioning.

After lifting various weights for half an hour he went out for his daily run. He liked to run at least eight miles a day during his strength and conditioning days. As such he ran through the streets while his citizens were usually still asleep. Due to his reforms and industrialization, many of the commoners now had proper working schedules and were still resting at this ungodly hour. Joffrey would wave to the few citizens he saw, but primarily focused on his run. The only other people up at this hour were his royal guards who were changing shifts. 

When they saw him they would stop, stand at attention and salute their king as he ran by; he would return the salute and continue with his run. The fact that the men could see their commander and king up at the same hour as them, boosted their morale, as well as their faith in him. He was a man who led by example and would never ask anything of someone that he wasn’t prepared to do himself. Joffrey didn’t actually have any days off from his work. He was always busy managing his city’s economy, agricultural, military, and industry.

He was starting to get exhausted from the amount of paperwork and logistics he had to handle everyday. That's why he was so happy to have competent administrators around him to help lighten the load. After finishing his run in roughly an hour and a half, Joffrey returned to the Red Keep. He then entered the large bath he had made and soaked for about thirty minutes. By the time he had gotten out and dressed in his new textile seventeenth century attire, over two and a half hours had gone by since he woke up. 

After finishing some drafts on some of his newest innovations and requests he had them sent out by his messengers. Once he was finished he realized it was now mid morning, so he proceeded to grab his files and make his way to the small council for their morning meeting. Once he arrived he noticed that Varys and Barristan were already there. They stood up from their seats and bowed their heads. As he made his way to his seat at the end of the long table the other members began to enter.

Next walked in the northern whore Ros who had become the new master of coin for the crown. After ascending to the administrative position as the head of the red light district, Ros had hijacked Littlefinger's old spy network for herself. As it turned out she had quite the mind for numbers and had helped Joffrey regain much of the gold the crown had misplaced thanks to Petyr Baelish’s embezzling. So as a reward Joffrey offered her a position on the small council, which she happily accepted. She now worked alongside both Lark with finances and budgeting, and Varys in being the king’s eyes and ears. 

After she took her seat the other members made their way into the chamber; Lark, Sansa, and finally Tyrion.  Once everyone took their seats Lark started off the meeting. They went over policy and the general welfare of the city’s citizens. The refugees were more content with their encampment now that they were supplied with both warm food and clothing. The royal guards had been enforcing the king’s peace in the city. Crimes of any kind were dealt with both swiftly and brutally. They then began to discuss the war, and their enemies whereabouts.

“It seems Robb Stark is still engaging with Tywin in the Riverlands and is pushing him back.” Varys said as Joffrey frowned as he went over the young wolf’s several victories against his grandfather.

“It would seem my grandfather is ignoring my orders to allow Robb Stark to ride south for peace talks with me.” Joffrey said, annoyed at his grandfather's insubordination while Tyrion looked on surprised. He appeared to be completely oblivious to Joffrey’s order for Tywin to disengage with the young wolf.

Joffrey already knew that Tywin was bound to be another obstacle for him to deal with once the war ended. The old lion had no intention of being a servant, but to be the power behind the throne while Joffrey sat as his puppet. He knew their visions for the future of the kingdoms would always clash but he had a plan to deal with him when the time came. Which was one of the reasons Joffrey specifically instructed Varys to bring Tyrion into their fold. 

“Uncle please send a raven to grandfather and remind him of my desire for him to allow Robb Stark to march south.” He said to a surprised Tyrion before turning his attention to Sansa.

“My love please write a new letter to your brother in your own words to come to King’s landing and parley with me in person.” He said with a smile. “Get your father to help you if you must.”

“Of course your grace.” She said, returning the smile.

They went on to discuss how Renly appeared to move deeper into the Stormlands with the Tyrells' support. It seemed they were taking a wait and see approach to the war hoping the Starks and Lannisters would destroy each other. It was a smart strategy but it differed from the one in the show where he prepared to march on the capital and take his head. Same for Stannis who has so far hung back on Dragonstone, with no signs of movement besides recruiting some pirates into his fleet.

“It seems my interference is having a ripple effect and changing the course of the story.” He thought deeply after hearing his two uncle's movements. “I’ll have to be even more careful going forward .”

He decided to focus on what he could control at the moment, which would be preparing his soldiers for the war that would inevitably arrive at their doorstep. Soon their basic training will be complete by month's end, and he would have roughly five cohorts at his disposal. Tobho had been working tirelessly to provide his new soldiers their arms and armor once they had earned their brand. 

“Is that everything then?” Joffrey asked, wishing end the meeting.

“Oh, a raven flew in this morning from castle black.” Grand maester Pycelle muttered, as he slowly handed a rolled up paper to the king.

“Trouble with the wildlings?” Varys asked.

“Well that's how they got the name wildlings.” Ros said in response.

“Somewhat less wild these days, it seems they’ve stopped killing each other, and started following this king beyond the wall.” Varys said ominously.

“Great another king. How many does that make now five or six? I’ve lost count at this point.” Tyrion said sarcastically. 

Joffrey took the small paper and unfolded it and read it aloud for the others.

“The lord commander asks that we send more men to guard the wall.” He read slowly.

“He does realize we’re in the middle of a war right now?” Lark asked, annoyed by the request.

“That's not all.” Joffrey said, continuing to read. “Cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them.” 

“Northerners are superstitious people.” Pycelle scoffed before seeing Sansa’s offended face, and Joffrey death glare.

“Oh I meant no offense my lady.” He quickly apologized. 

“It's fine grand maester.” She said brushing off the insult and put her hand on her betrothed’s shoulder.

Joffrey calmed down and stopped looking at the old man, like a deer he was going to field dress, and continued reading the letter.

“It would appear that one of these dead men attacked the lord commander in his chambers.” Joffrey thought for a moment before turning to his new hand.

“Uncle.” He said getting Tyrion’s attention. “You spent time at the wall, how did the lord commander strike you?”

Tyrion looked surprised by his nephew's question and the fact he was honestly asking for his opinion. He sat and thought for a moment before speaking.

“The lord commander is a stern but fair man, but I don’t believe he was someone who would lie.” He said giving his honest take on the night watch’s commander.

Joffrey sat and closed his eyes for a moment as if pondering all of his options.

“Varys, how many of the gold cloaks remain in the holding cells?” He asked.

“Eight hundred and seventy four your grace.” He responded to which Joffrey nodded his head.

“Uncle, please write a letter to the Lord commander and ask him to send down some men to collect our prisoners.”

Tyrion looked stunned that Joffrey was actually honoring the lord commander's request for reinforcements. 

“Your grace, is this truly wise?” Pycelle asked. “Are you really going to send all of the remaining city watch to the wall?”

“I don’t see why not.” He responded nonchalantly. “My royal guards enforce and keep the king's peace now, and they do it better than they ever did.” 

“Yes, your grace but still-” He went to say before the king interrupted him.

“They’re nothing but thugs who raped, stole, and murdered with impunity in my city for years. They broke their oaths to serve and protect the citizens from corruption and harm. I can think of nowhere better for them to redeem themselves in the eyes of gods and men.” He said sternly ending the argument. 

“Uncle please send the raven this afternoon.” Joffrey said, turning his head towards him.

Tyrion with a dumbfounded face but nodded his head at his request. The other members nodded their heads in agreement to the king's decision. The old ferret decided to bite his tongue and not press the issue any further. 

“Well I think that's enough for today.” Joffrey said, standing up from the table followed by his fellow members. “I have other business to conduct today. As do the rest of you.”

He then walked out of the small council chamber followed by the others. Everyone left the room leaving only Tyrion alone at the table who had an expression that was a mixture of astonishment and confusion. He didn’t know what to make of the sudden change to the wretched little nephew he had grown to hate over the years.

When he got sent to the city he was certain that he was going to have to deal with a pathetic boy king whipping his nose on his sleeve. But now he didn’t know what to think. He was well tempered and disciplined. He made well thought out plans and solved the city’s food crisis. He was revolutionizing the way trades and business were being done. Which optimized efficiency and lowered expense.

Truly Tyrion had never seen the capital in such good condition since the drunken oaf who married his whore sister took the throne. Not that he was complaining but he wanted to understand where these changes came from. As he got up to leave he began to think to himself.

“The spider paid me a visit earlier today to threaten me with my Shae.” He thought as he came to the door of the small council chamber. “Perhaps he has some information on what has occurred with the young king while I was away.”