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The Young Lion
Act 2 Ch 1: The Imp Arrives
It had been a month since Joffrey had his vision of the Land of Always Winter and the horrors that awaited all of them. He'd refused to discuss what had happened to anyone, even Sansa, knowing that none of them would have believed him anyway. Though no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get those blue eyes out of his mind and the sheer evil that dwelled within them. Which was one of the many reasons he didn't remain idle and had begun implementing his new projects and reforms.
The following weeks after his public execution of Littlefinger and his conspirators, Joffrey handed down harsh punishments onto their families for their Lord's act of treason. Those that had heirs were ordered to hand them over to the crown where they would be raised as hostages until they came of age, while anyone who didn't have an heir had their lands and holdfasts seized. It was a cold-hearted but practical move that he hoped would raise further funds for the crown, and give him the land he'd need for his various agricultural projects once the war was finished.
As for the treacherous snake, all of his assets and properties were seized and sold off to help repay the amount of gold they weren't able to find. Though when his men went to seize his brothels they found a stubborn whore waiting for them. Her name was Ros, a red-haired harlot from the north, who had quickly become Littlefinger's right-hand man, and demanded an audience with the young king.
Joffrey ended up granting her request curious about what she could have to say. He still remembered the audaciousness of the lowborn woman when she strode into his throne room. When asked what she wanted to speak with him about, Ros simply stated she wished to protect the rest of the prostitutes she'd gathered under her protective wing. She pleaded with the young king not to unleash his wrath on innocent women just because their employer was a traitor; she went so far as to bow her head to the floor.
When asked what she'd give him in exchange she informed him of her status as the dead traitor's right-hand woman and promised to find the rest of the gold that the snake had stolen from him. It was then the pair had struck a bargain. Joffrey gave her a fortnight to find all of his money that her dead boss had stolen. If she succeeded he swore before the old gods and new that he'd make sure the brothels and by extension the prostitutes were taken care of and looked after. But if she failed, she and all of her fellow "sisters" would be treated as accomplices in the dead snake's schemes.
When she returned just four days later with not only the rest of the gold he sought, but with the hidden ledgers with names revealing the extent of his network of corruption as well as a few of the men who had assisted him in his plot. The king kept his word and immediately proclaimed the brothels to be under the crown's protection and even stationed some of his soldiers there to discourage any funny business.
Seeing an opportunity to add another more reliable revenue stream to the crown's treasure, he made Ros an offer; the crown would assume ownership of the various brothels that would be renamed into the royal red-light district and she would run the day-to-day operations as his overseer. The brothels would have to pay a 20% annual tax, but in exchange would be offered protection, healthcare, and renovations/repairs. Ros agreed and quickly with Joffrey's help completely overhauled the sex trade.
The king also changed various laws involving prostitution and outright outlawed using children; anyone caught doing such acts would be treated as a traitor to the realm. Ros quickly proved herself to be a highly efficient manager, tripling the various brothels' profits despite the new regulations. The king became so impressed with her resourcefulness that he offered her a seat on his Small Council as his new Master of Coin.
Some members of council objected, citing the spot should be reserved for a noble, not some common whore from the north. Though Joffrey silenced those complaints by officially granting Ros a noble title as well as the small finger of land that once belonged to her former employer, and with that gained another member for his small council. Not everyone was happy but the king's word was absolute and none of the other members dared to argue. Currently, all of the current members were in the middle of a midday meeting discussing the various news from across the continent.
"The raven arrived from the Citadel, your grace," announced the Grand Maester in his usual frail tone.
In his hand, he held a large birdcage with a small black raven inside chirping happily. He slowly placed the bird in the middle of the new wooden round table Joffrey had put in, replacing the old rectangular one.
"The conclave has met, considered reports from the Maesters from all around the Seven Kingdoms and has now declared this great summer at an end."
Unknowingly those words sent a shiver down the young king's spine, the flash of blue eyes entering his mind.
"This was the longest summer in recorded history," commented Lark, his Guild Master and Master of Trade.
"Indeed, the northerners say a long summer means an even longer winter." Varys the Master of Whispers added.
"Pfff," Pycelle scoffed. "A common superstition made up by a bunch of tree worshipers."
At his words Sansa who had been invited to the meeting at Joffrey's insistence so that she may begin learning the duties of ruling frowned. Joffrey, seeing his betrothed's obvious displeasure, narrowed his eyes and stared at the mumbling fool with cold anger.
"M-my apologies**, my lady. I spoke** out of turn," He quickly apologized, bowing at the waist to the future queen.
"It's alright, Grand Maester," she said calmly, reaching out and taking Joffrey's hand beside her trying to calm his anger. "While my mother and I follow the Faith of the Seven, my family and people still worship the Old Gods and I'd appreciate it if you didn't disrespect our customs."
"Of course, my lady!" He quickly added. "It won't happen again."
Sansa nodded then squeezed his hand getting his anger to subside.
"How much food do we have in storage for the winter?" He asked, moving on from the old fool.
"Well originally we appeared to have only had enough wheat for a five-year winter, your grace." Lark answered as he flipped through his documents and adjusted his monocle. "But with our rushed imports of wheat and barley we could possibly last eight years. Any longer and many of our citizens will starve."
"I wouldn't worry about that," the king said, sitting up straighter. "I'm currently working on a theory for a new agriculture system, one that if successful would allow us to harvest even in winter."
The others looked at the king with disbelief; many thought the young king was speaking nonsense but there was something about his sheer confidence that dispelled their initial doubts.
"D-Does it have something to do with the turnips and clover you had us import in our shipments?" Lark asked to which the king just nodded.
He quickly made a note in his documents with his quill before Joffrey moved on.
"Now to our newest member," he said, turning his attention to Ros who sat with her own ledger. "How is our budget looking?"
"Actually quite well, your grace." She added, flipping through her papers until she found the one she was looking for. "We've successfully repaid the Free Cities cartels, and with the money we've recovered from Lord Baelish I'm sure we can afford to repay either the Faith or your grandfather."
Joffrey brought his hand to his chin remembering well what occurred due to the crown's debt to the Faith which led to the rise of a certain fanatic.
"Focus on repaying the Faith," He finally said, locking eyes with Ros. "We'll worry about my grandfather and the Iron Bank after the war is won."
"Of course your grace." She said, making a note on her paper. "What of the crown's debt to the Tyrells?"
"The Tyrells are traitors to the crown and are currently in open rebellion, so for the time being we'll consider their debt settled."
Ros nodded, making another note while Joffrey turned his attention to Lark.
"Speaking of the Free Cities, have they answered whether they're coming or not?"
"Yes, reports show they're on their way here as we speak." He said confidently.
"Good," Joffrey nodded his head, while the others looked confused, having no idea what the two men were talking about. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes on another note the city is starting to become flooded with refugees from the war, your grace." Jacelyn, his second in command and the newly appointed Master of War commented. "Our city's residents are starting to become displaced and the streets are beginning to fill with strife."
The king went silent for a moment pondering the information and the best course of action.
"We'll set up refugee tents outside the city walls and provide them with their own breadlines and cots." He finally said. "We'll place two patrols of Royal Guards there to maintain order within the camps.'
"Yes, your grace." he tilted his head.
"Speaking of our soldiers, how goes the new batch of recruits?"
"Slow," he admitted, having read the reports of his drill instructors. "It seems every aged boy wants to become a Royal Guard after your previous display, your grace. But with your new extensions to the selection process we're having a hard time keeping men."
Jacelyn was referring to the king's decision to extend the selection process from eight weeks to twelve weeks while also increasing the intensity of the training. Most found the experience too unbearable and would drop out within two weeks. All these new changes came about after his first batch of soldiers that while completely loyal lacked the discipline he required of them.
"Perhaps if we were to lower the standards a bit then perhaps-"
But before he could finish Joffrey cut him off.
"No," he flat out denied his request. "I don't require paper tigers serving in my army; those that don't cut it aren't worthy to join us."
"Yes, your grace." He immediately agreed.
"What's next?" He asked, looking at the others.
"Well, your grace, we're having some trouble-" Ser Barristan went to speak but suddenly stopped.
The sound of loud whistling could be heard approaching the Small Council Chamber. Everyone as one turned their heads towards the source of the noise which grew louder and louder. Soon the owner of the whistle revealed himself and it was none other than his dwarf uncle Tyrion Lannister wearing his custom if not slightly amusing Lannister armor.
"Oh please don't get up," he remarked sarcastically as he strode into the room like he owned the place. "Beloved nephew, we looked for you on the battlefield but you were nowhere to be found." He said mockingly, causing many of the other members to grow agitated.
Joffrey didn't react to his jab maintaining a calm air of regal indifference.
"I've been busy," he replied completely expressionless. "We can't all spend our days drinking away the memories of our bad childhood."
He retorted with a hint of mockery in his voice making his uncle's eye twitch slightly as he frowned. He wanted to give another snide remark but upon getting a better look at his nephew who he hadn't seen for nearly a year he was left rather speechless. He'd grown much taller, just slightly shorter than Jaime, and judging by how snug his black tunic fit him had grown much more muscular.
"I see the tales of your death were unfounded," He commented, bringing his uncle out of his thoughts. "Though that begs the question why are you here exactly?"
"It's been a remarkable journey," he said, regaining some of his cocky attitude as he took a seat at the table, but only after moving a chair so that he sat across from Joffrey. "I pissed off the edge of the Wall, I slept in a sky cell, I even fought with the Hill Tribes. Yes, so much to be grateful for."
He then tried to pour himself a drink but was disappointed to find it was only water.
"I mean what are you doing here? This is the Small Council, not one of your brothels." He asked, pretending not to already know the answer.
"Yes well I do believe that the Hand of the King is permitted at all Small Council meetings," he replied with a smug, shit-eating grin.
"Lord Tywin is Hand of the King," Jacelyn interjected, getting annoyed by the dwarf's attitude towards his king.
Tyrion seemed to appraise the one-handed knight for a moment, perhaps trying to discern what role he played on the council.
"Yes, but in his absence,' he then pulled out a rolled up scroll, handing it to a confused Varys.
Varys unrolled the scroll and read its all too familiar contents aloud. About how Tywin had named Tyrion to act as Hand in his stead or at least until he returned from the battlefield. Apparently, his grandfather was quite displeased with his actions, mostly his refusal to send him Ned Stark and his execution of the noblemen.
He had already anticipated he'd send Tyrion to the capital with the intent of getting him and his mother under control, not knowing Cersei had left the capital over a month prior. Despite the dwarf's clear disdain for him and his annoying comments, Joffrey was more than happy to have his uncle in the city. Out of all the Lannister children he was the most politically astute and shrewd. Using his intelligence to make up for his stature. He could prove a valuable asset in his future plans.
"Well I think that's enough for one day," Joffrey finally spoke after a moment of silence to the rest of his council members. "You have your orders, I expect results."
"Yes, your grace." they said as one speaking to him with clear respect much to Tyrion's astonishment.
"Good, we'll reconvene at the same time tomorrow. Now leave us." He ordered.
Everyone got up from their individual seats bowing their heads to the king and the new Hand before exiting the chamber one at a time. Sansa was the last to leave; she happily brushed her hand on Joffrey's cheek. The king took his future queen's hand into his own, kissing the back of it in return before sending her on her way. Once the chamber doors shut there was only Joffrey and Tyrion left seated.
Seeing the king wasn't moving, Tyrion got up and waddled his way around the round table until he was before the king himself. Sitting down next to him Tyrion quickly picked up the smell of arbor red and reached eagerly for the copper pitcher, only for Joffrey to reach it first and set it out of his reach much to his annoyance.
"The Stark girl is becoming quite the beauty I see." He commented having looked at the path Sansa had left. "I bet you can't wait for your wedding night huh?"
"If you leer at her with those wretched eyes of yours I'll have them removed," he warned, his voice and face devoid of any warmth he'd shown just a moment prior.
Tyrion gulped slightly, hearing the young king's threat. Something about his tone and body language told him he wasn't bluffing. Though he refused to show any fear or weakness to the sadistic boy and kept his signature smug grin on his face.
"I'm curious uncle, how exactly did you convince grandfather into picking you as his stand-in?" He asked feigning ignorance.
"It wasn't anything on my end I'm afraid," he remarked, his eyes continuing to drift to the pitcher. "I'm afraid this is all on you."
"Me? What exactly have I done?"
"Oh I don't know, maybe refusing to hand over the Starks to him so he could secure your uncle's release from the northerners. Or perhaps executing over twenty noblemen in a public display of want and brutality." His voice held scorn for his nephew's perceived stupidity.
"It was necessary," he shrugged nonchalantly.
"Necessary? You had twenty noblemen beheaded before the entire city and now the entire Vale has risen up against us, and you call that necessary?"
The dwarf was referring to Lysa Arryn who had called the Vale's banners and declared her son Robin the new King of the Mountain and Vale. Their army of forty thousand then rode out and had started to harass his grandfather's forces. It was originally in the series, but Joffrey was hardly worried about a mad woman and her stillborn lamb.
"Littlefinger was a snake and the others were under his thumb threatening to poison all I planned to build." He remarked unbothered by his uncle's allegations. "He and those that followed him to the grave were planning to betray me as soon as Stannis or Renly's armies were at our gates. I saw an opportunity to rid my court of corruption and send a message to the ones smart enough to remain hidden about the cost of treason." He explained.
Tyrion immediately became quiet upon hearing his justification. He'd just assumed it was another sadistic indulgence, not strategy that led him to kill those men.
"It seems his mind has matured alongside his body," Tyrion thought to himself as he looked Joffrey up and down. "Maybe this won't be a total disaster after all."
"I still think it could have been handled with more discretion" He actually said. "Now we have another king to deal with."
"If it was discreet it wouldn't be much of a message now would it," he said, shrugging him off. "Besides I'm not concerned about some stillborn lamb or Robb for that matter."
"Oh really? The man who has yet to taste defeat that crushed half your grandfather's army doesn't concern you?" He asked sarcastically. "You do realize what awaits us if we lose the war right?"
"Then we won't lose," he responded matter-of-factly.
Tyrion just stared at his nephew unsure if he was a mad man or a complete fool he just didn't know.
"By the way, where is your mother? I had yet to smell her stench when I arrived."
Joffrey chuckled internally at his uncle's words having forgotten how much the two siblings hated each other.
"I sent my mother back to the Westerlands weeks ago, Tyrion."
Tyrion's mouth hung open at the news having expected Cersei to be the one pulling the strings now that Robert was dead.
"Why?" was the only thing he could ask.
"Because she's a paranoid fool who nearly ruined all of my plans for peace by having Sansa killed, that's why." He was annoyed remembering the dumb blonde's actions.
Tyrion slowly started to see his nephew in a whole new light. He'd known that he'd changed ever since they traveled north to Winterfell, but it was only now he considered it a blessing. The pair sat in utter silence for a moment before Joffrey reached for the pitcher of wine.
"So it seems you'll be my Hand for the time being." He commented as he filled the eager dwarf's cup with wine.
"So it would seem," he responded, remaining focused on the wine cup.
Joffrey then began pouring himself one as well.
"You are here to advise me."
"Only here to advise," he nodded as he took a satisfied smile as he took the cup into his hands.
The pair stared at each other for another moment before raising their cups and taking a sip of the delicious red. Once finished they went right back to staring at each other each trying to discern the others true intentions. Finally, the king broke the silence.
"Then you can help me with some paperwork in my chamber, come." Joffrey said, getting up and taking the pitcher with him.
Tyrion looked surprised but followed after him after hopping down from his chair. Just as they were about to exit the Small Council chamber, Joffrey stopped, his hand on the wooden oak door. Slowly he turned and looked down at his imp uncle with a softer expression.
"I want you to know I am happy that you're not dead, uncle," He said softly with a sincere tone that left him stunned.
Almost immediately the expression vanished from his face and he continued his way out of the chamber leaving a partially stunned Tyrion behind.
"Seriously what happened to him in that coma?" He asked himself, unable to make sense of his sudden change no matter how hard he tried. "It's almost like some spirit took over his body or something. Nah that's just nonsense."
He waved it off before continuing his stride forward trying to catch up to the young king. Little did Tyrion know just how close to the truth he actually was.
Hey Everyone Young Lion is back for Act 2!
If you want to read ahead Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 are already available for Patrons.
Just go to google and search RougePrince69 and click the first link.
Anyway It's good to be back and I hope all of you continue to enjoy my work and journey to escape the hellish corporate life.