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American Horror: Grind Edition
Joffrey stood on the gallery, staring north across King's Landing.
Under the night sky the horizon glowed with thousands of campfires, a burning river of stars.
Before the real fighting even started, the first battle was already over information.
Renly and Stannis had locked arms and were singing the same song: Joffrey was dead, and the Hand and the Queen had done it together.
Edmure had actually sent a letter.
Pycelle intercepted it and delivered it straight to Joffrey.
"Brother-in-law, my sister loves you so much—surely you wouldn't abandon her… The Riverlands is buzzing with talk that you and the Queen plotted to murder the king so you could rule alone…"
After freezing in the North for years and putting up with Robert for even longer, Joffrey had never seen Eddard's face turn quite that shade of purple.
The Hand had grabbed a quill on the spot and written back, ordering Edmure to stop waiting for his slow-moving lords and march south immediately. He also promised that after the war he would ride to Riverrun personally and teach his little brother-in-law how to be a proper lord.
Robb, on the other hand, had moved fast.
The second the news reached him he left the Northern foot soldiers behind and tore down the Kingsroad with four thousand cavalry.
In the end the combined hosts of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale had gathered once more at the Trident and were racing south toward King's Landing under cover of darkness.
"Joff."
A soft voice came from behind him.
Joffrey turned. Cersei stood in the moonlight wearing a pale-red cloak.
"Mother, it's the middle of the night. Why aren't you sleeping?"
"You're not sleeping either." She stepped beside him and looked out at the distant fires. "I doubt many people are tonight."
"Joff… do you remember what your father said before he left?"
Joffrey blinked. "Which part?"
When he'd learned Robert had faked his death he'd been too busy being furious to remember the touching bits.
"Internal affairs—ask Eddard.
External affairs—ask Eddard."
Cersei repeated the words slowly, a note of displeasure in her voice.
"So why did you decide on your own today to tell the nobles the real numbers outside the walls?"
Since Jaime could no longer swing a sword and an enemy army sat on their doorstep, Cersei had been behaving herself a lot more. She'd even put palace scheming on hold and was working with Eddard to defend the city.
Joffrey thought for a moment.
"That's exactly why I told them the truth."
"Soldiers can't fake numbers. A thousand rode out, only three hundred came back. Better I control the story than let rumors twist it."
"Besides, I'm not only worried about Stannis's army." His eyes reflected the distant flames. "I'm worried about the mood inside King's Landing."
"Our main fighting force just lost half its strength in one night. Every lord is carrying that weight in silence."
"So after I downplayed Stannis's numbers, Lord Eddard leaked that reinforcements are on the way. It gives them hope. It tells them all they have to do is hold for a while and victory is certain."
Cersei gave a small nod.
"That's all I needed to hear."
"I can sleep now. You should rest too."
Her pale-red figure drifted away down the corridor.
But Joffrey still couldn't sleep.
He felt a heavy knot stuck in his chest, choking him.
He wanted to shout, but screaming in the middle of the night would look insane.
So he paced Maegor's Holdfast twice, then wandered out and headed toward the Tower of the Hand.
"Jaqen's not here?"
The Hand's guard shook his head.
"The fuck do you mean Jaqen's not here?" the Hound growled, woken from sleep.
"People are trying to sleep—keep it down," Joffrey said, raising a hand.
The guard glanced at him carefully.
"Ever since the lord put him in charge of the sellswords he's been disappearing for days at a time. Even Lady Arya can't find him."
Joffrey frowned.
He hadn't planned on using Jaqen before. But now the enemy was literally at the gates and his mind kept turning over every possible insurance policy. If the fighting went badly, a Faceless Man could be useful.
Their arrangement was still just a silent understanding. Joffrey had freed him from the black cells and received only a simple promise in return.
One extra layer of protection was always good.
Too bad it wasn't available tonight.
"Is the Hand asleep?" Joffrey asked.
The guard shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. Lord Tyrion came hours ago and hasn't left. Lord Varys arrived with him."
Joffrey climbed the stairs and pushed open the study door.
"Renly's troops have camped on the south bank. They haven't crossed yet, but they've already cut the Goldroad…"
Candlelight filled the room. Three exhausted men looked up.
Joffrey grabbed a chair, dragged it to the wall, and sat.
"My lords, still discussing strategy this late?"
The eunuch gave a soft laugh. "Your Grace isn't sleeping either."
"Lord Tyrion ordered me to bring any news from my little birds the moment it arrived. The Hand was already holding council, so I simply joined them."
Joffrey scanned the study.
Two men were bent over a table covered in maps. The third stood on a chair.
Compared to his last visit, the room had changed. A few paintings now hung on the walls, a whetstone sat in the corner beside several longswords and Ice.
Not a single book in sight.
An inappropriate thought floated through Joffrey's head—read it and burn it—followed by I still have two uncles and you don't.
He shook it off.
Varys cleared his throat and continued.
"Stannis is rounding up villagers outside the walls and forcing them to cut timber for siege engines. My birds say at least two siege ladders are nearly finished."
He pointed with a powdered finger. "The main thrust will be against the Iron Gate and Dragon Gate on the northeast side."
"Those sectors face Velaryon's sea-snake troops and Celtigar's heavy infantry."
"Stannis himself is not in the land camp. He appears to have taken personal command of the fleet in Blackwater Bay."
"But the red woman is still outside the walls. She has built a platform."
The eunuch's jaw tightened, rare anger slipping into his voice.
"We were all fooled by Thoros. We thought every follower of the red god was like him. We never imagined someone like the red woman existed!"
"The earlier reports were true. I had dismissed them as exaggeration."
"Once my little birds are discovered, she ties them to that platform and offers them to her false god…"
He dabbed sweat from his bald head with his sleeve.
"Gods, Your Grace, I can hear their screams from here!"
Varys turned, his usually sharp eyes glistening. "Your Grace, after the battle you must punish that red woman severely!"
"And… and from what I have learned…"
He hesitated, clearly weighing whether to say the rest.
Learned what?
That the platform was called the Maiden's Pyre or something?
Joffrey might be little Joff, but even he wasn't that little.