The time has come for about three quarters of the court to leave for war. Everyone from the poorest of nobles to Lords of well known houses are mounting their horses and loading their wagons to go off and prove themselves to the king in hopes of a knighthood. I am standing next to 'mother' as she stands from afar watching the procession prepare to leave.
"Kings Landing will seem very empty with all these people gone" I say in a quiet murmur.
"We have each other Joff, that's all that matters" she returns. Indeed I had noticed ever since my first days in this world the coldness between my royal 'parents'. I don't think I had ever seen them happy together. The tension that followed them wherever they went was chilling. There was not pretense of love. It made me quite sad to think that I couldn't even attempt to make them happy like in other fanfictions I had read in my previous life. However I steeled myself mentally as I remembered why I was doing this: I will make these Kingdoms better. And I will be a good king!
Time Skip
It was boring without any of the Lords that really meant anything around Kings Landing. The corridors of the Red Keep were barren and deserted. Just three Kingsguard remianed to protect 'mother' and I. Well me. I doubt 'father' actually gave a shit as to whether 'mother' lived or died. To occupy myself I started training with the sword, much to 'Mother's' anguish. Ser Preston, one of the Kingsguard who didn't leave for war is the one training me, at least until 'Uncle' and Ser Barristan return. It is harder than I expected it to be, Ser Preston is a member of the Kingsguard for a reason. He is in truth most talented, though obviously not on the level of Ser Barristan the Bold. Nevertheless I was covered in bruises from the navel to my collarbone and both my eyes were blackened due to hits from the pommel of Ser Preson's blunted sword. Each day (apart from two days a week reserved for lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle) I would wake up at around before dawn to make sure that I got to the courtyard before the sun rose -something to do with discipline according to Ser Preston, a load of bullshit in my opinion- to practice for 3 hours before I went to do whatever was required of me that day. It felt like a harsh schedule but I had stuck to it for 7 Moons and already I could feel the benefits of the intense schedule. Although I was only five namedays old, I had begun to tone up ever so slightly. I knew there wouldn't be much improvement until my teen years but at least it was a start.
Something I most enjoyed however were the lessons with Pycelle. As much as I was wary of the man, owing to the fact that he was in 'grandfather's' pocket. You couldn't take away the fact that he was a learned man. It was obvious that he was probably the best maester around, it was a shame he was a Lannister puppet. Nonetheless he was a good teacher, he had taught me many things about Westerosian history, such as: Aegons Conquest, the Andal Invasion and even Robert's Rebellion (though he conveniently missed out the fact that he was the one that convinced King Aerys to open the gates and let the Lannister army in.)
Time Skip
I walked into the Small Council chamber to see Littlefinger reading a short roll of parchment, as I entered he, along with Varys and Pycelle stood up, and sat again as I did.
"Good news, My Prince" he said in way of greeting.
"Oh Yes, Lord Baelish?" I enquired. I could guess the news based on the seal on the parchment but confirmation is always nice.
"Your Father will soon be returning home," he said while passing the parchment to me. I unfurled the parchment and read it aloud. Recognising the scrawl immediatly as my 'father's' writing:
Baelish,
The Rebellion is over. No more Greyjoy cunts live, let it be known that House Harlaw now rule the Iron Islands. Lord Rodrik Harlaw is now Lord Reaper of the Iron Islands and his descendents will rule after him.
Signed,
King Robert First of my Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar blah blah blah.
"How eloquent" I murmered underneath my breath. "We must prepare for the arrival of the returning armies then." I said to the Council members seated at the table.
"Of course, My Prince. I shall set up a tourney as a way of celebration." Ah, another front for some more pocket lining. I think not...
"That will not be required, Lord Baelish. I doubt the Crown can afford such an expense, we are 3 million dragons in debt, are we not?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Surely we should reward the men for their bravery?"
"That's what knighthoods are for, My Lord Regent, why spend hundreds of thousands of gold dragons when you can spend at least a quarter of that in a reward that means much more than a tourney?"
"Let us wait to see what the King says. My Lord Regent, My Prince" Intergected Grand Maester Pycelle. Ah yes 'father' would never turn down a tourney. And I'm sure the Lannisters would love to loan another two hundred thousand dragons to the Crown and gain even more control.
"A wise idea Grand Maester." Baelish smirked. Slippery bastard.
Time Skip
I sighed as I paced in front of the door my 'mother' was behind. I winced as another scream of pain pierced my ears. How stupid was the perverse old man. No men aloud in the birthing chambers; how fucking stupid! I know that Cersei is a cruel woman, bent on being queen. I know that she is an egotistical bitch. I know she murdered her husband. I know she commited mass genocide when she blew up the Great Sept of Baelor. Yet somehow I find myself caring for her. I may really be twenty two years old. But in this world I'm still a five year old boy, and she has treated me with nothing but love. Like a true mother. Now however, I hear her screaming in pain as my younger sister is born into this world.
What felt like a century later but was likely only an hour the screaming suddenly stopped, and the door opened. Pycelle shuffled outside, sweat glistening in the candle light, which shone in the hallway.
"Is she ok." I asked. Of course I knew the answer, but he doesn't know that.
"Indeed the queen is quite well, My Prince. Please come in and see for yourself."
Cautiously I walked in. There lay my mother panting as she regained her strength from the ordeal. In her arms lay a bundle. Cersei was staring down at it with fondness in her eyes. She looked up as I walked towards her. Slowly she passed the small bundle of sheets towards me. "Joffrey" She whispered.
I looked down. A baby looked up at me with soft green eyes. A tuft of blonde hair on its head.
"Meet your little sister, Myrcella."
YOU ARE READING
A Good King - A Joffrey Baratheon Insert
FanfictionI never really believed in life after death. Well, that was until I woke up staring at Cersei Lannister and sucking on her teat. "What the fuck!"
