A Good King - A Joffrey Baratheon Insert

Captured

The raid was going well. The small group -the size of the raiding party had shrunk continuously, after all, the larger the party the harder it is to sneak into a camp, particularly when the entire camp was on high alert- had successfully managed to evade the well-manned patrols around the outskirts of the camp and make their way to one of the food stores. They waited, well hidden, until the guard manning the store walked away, presumably to go for a piss, then approached the store. Robb removed one of the small vials of poison from his satchel and started to put the poison on the stock of bread, meat and vegetables. He had just finished up when Warrek whispered urgently, "Mi' Lord, the man is coming back."

Robb swore, returned the now empty vial to his satchel, and signalled for his band of four men to start moving. Unfortunately, it was too late and as they left the store the guard shouted loudly and started running after them. Robb and his men started running as quickly as possible and were starting to outrun the lone guard but his shouts had attracted the attention of other knights, including a tall man in what appeared to be a bastardised Kingsguard uniform. The other knights were starting encircle their group and as Robb vaulted a small, stone wall, he knew it was too late. Thinking rapidly he yelled for his men to stop, cut his satchel with a knife removed from a holster on his forearm, returned the knife and dropped the satchel, praying the now rapidly approaching troupe of knights were too far away to see. He scuffed the satchel over with dirt and re-vaulted the wall, his men following his lead.

The illegitimate Kingsguard spoke, "Name yourselves intruders."

His men spoke in quick succession:

"Warrek"

"Braun"

"Jowe"

"Traven"

And then his face turned to him. Robb mentally braced himself before speaking. "Robb, of House Stark, heir to Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North. As a noble-born captive I request holdings fit for my status and request my men be housed in holdings similar to mine."

The knights' shock would have been hilarious if he wasn't in the situation he was.

"You shall follow me, Lord Stark. Brant, take the others." The Kingsguard said. And they were off.

POV Change, Meanwhile

"Let's go men! For Westeros!" I yelled, sword in the air.

"For Westeros!" They replied, loudly.

With that I turned Midnight around and stormed down the hill, war horns were blown and my men yelled out a war cry. In seconds we were upon them, the supply train of the would-be usurper Renly Baratheon.

After hearing from Robb about the rapid replacement of the destroyed supplies in Renly's camp I decided the best way to stop that would be to also frustrate the supply process. To do so, the supply trains must be stopped from getting to Renly's camp. Thus, I ordered a thousand men from the Crownlands to prepare and ordered scouts to head out to find which roads the supply trains travel on and how frequently. I heard back after approximately two weeks, by raven, my scouts telling me that the supply trains travelled along the Rose Road before using minor roads to get to Renly's camp.

After gathering this information I saddled up and led the procession of men out of camp accompanied by Lord Manning, who offered many of his men for the attack. It took almost a week of hard riding to get to the ambush point, atop a hill, the road cutting through the valley, it would make a good spot for the men to charge down and, if all went to plan, catch the guards unawares.

We laid in wait for a few more days, hidden by the forest on the eastern side of the hill. I felt like Robin Hood, at home in the trees. We made sure to not light a fire, or be too loud, lest we give away our position. I also made a point of not staying away from my men, I spent time with them, sang with them (though I had to be taught some of the more crude songs that I'm sure Cersei stopped father from teaching me), played with them, and slept with them. I was shocked by the age of some of the men, well, more like boys, who accompanied me. One, Danire Waters, a bastard who signed up for the King's Landing force, was only fifteen. I knew that youth were given more responsibility in Westeros, but I wasn't aware that they fought in war. It was rather shocking realisation. Regardless, I got along well with Danire. He told me that he was one of the few lucky bastards who could read and write, after being taught by a Septa at a sept near his home. He told me that the Septa taught them -he and some other impoverished boys- everything she could, but she died when he was nine, and the Septa who replaced her stopped the program. His story however did give me an idea for the future.

On the third day of our waiting, as the men started to become restless, the lookout came running into our makeshift camp, panting like a dog. "Your Grace," he started, "I see dust from the horses approaching, they can't be more than 10 minutes away!"

"Suit up men." I shouted. "Today we deal a blow to the traitors!" A cheer was my only response.

I was brought back to the here and now by the clashing of swords to my left, a quick glance showed Lord Manning taking the fight to a knight, I saw not the conclusion to the battle, however, as another guard of the supply carts tried to bring his blade down in an arc onto the top of my armoured head, I managed to deflect his blow deftly however and tried to counter, unsuccessfully, with a strike of my own. Fighting on a horse was tough, I found, but I managed to hold my own long enough to notice a weak point in the knight's fighting technique: he left his right side exposed when attacking. Thus, when he next attempted a strike, I deflected his weapon to the left and quickly countered with a well-aimed blow to his exposed right side. My strike found a gap in his armour and he screamed as my Valaryian steel blade (which I was convinced was a major 'fuck you' to Tywin by my father I still don't know where he got it from) pierced his skin and was pushed further into his body, past his ribs, and into his heart.

I pulled my, now bloody, sword out of his limp body and after turning Midnight around and seeing most everyone was off their horses, I too dismounted and charged after an opposing guard. Soon he was without a wrist and after pushing my sword through his throat I pursued another enemy. The cycle continued for a short while until all the guards were dead. As the sound of metal clashing ended it was soon replaced by the sound of wretching and vomit meeting the blooded dirt road.

I found Danire as he straightened again, the evidence of his previous actions splashed around near him and on his chin. I passed him a silk cloth, which he took almost reverently. I realised that that cloth alone probably cost more than anything he'd ever owned.

"Thank you, Your Grace"

I waved him off, "I am simply happy to see you alive and well."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Your Grace." He chuckled.

"Well then, call me Joffrey."

A/N

Thank you for your patience! I didn't realise just how hard it is to come up with ideas when I started writing. Alas, there is an update now.

To reiterate what I said in my other fic:

Black lives matter.

Trans lives matter.

Have a good year until I update again! (Just kidding, maybe).

Please review, I will respond!