The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 2: Arrival to Winterfell
The days that followed went by in a flash. Following the Maester's orders, Joffrey decided to hold himself up in the castle's library. He ordered the servants to have all his meals delivered to him and requested that he not be disturbed.
Joffrey tore through scroll after scroll, hoping that perhaps one of the many dusty books contained an answer to his current "situation." But as he went from one parchment to another, he soon realized that this was his reality now. He had truly been reborn in the fantasy world of George R.R. Martin.
Although he acknowledged that the world he ended up in could have been much worse than Game of Thrones, he had at least hoped he would have ended up in a better "vessel." Part of him wished that he could have been reborn as some rich noble's son and heir, where he could live out his days in luxury and pleasure without having to deal with the headaches that came along with politics.
Instead, he ended up as the sadistic, sociopathic, and inbred prince. One who would be at the center of a five-way war that he would barely survive, only to die at his own wedding. To prevent this future from coming to pass, Joffrey was going to have to fight tooth and nail to repair his image and become a monarch the people would be willing to support. And with this prospect came another feeling from within him: excitement.
He couldn't deny that the thought of being brought to this world so that he could lead it down a better path had crossed his mind. To use his vast knowledge to improve the lives of the millions who lived here, and show them a new way to live. But to accomplish any of this, he was going to need money and influence, which he currently did not possess. Something he was going to rectify as soon as they returned to King's Landing.
For now, he decided to focus on the things within his immediate control, such as forming a good relationship with the great house of the north: House Stark.
Currently, the royal procession was saddling up to continue their trip to Winterfell, which was only a few days' journey away. Joffrey strode past the armored Lannister soldiers, who were all adorned in their signature red cloaks. The soldiers and servants made way for the young prince as he approached his horse. The queen had pleaded with him to ride with her and his siblings in the safety of the carriage, but despite his mother's words the young prince flatout refused. After all, if he intended to make a strong impression on his future northern subjects he couldn't very well be caught riding alongside women and children no matter his condition.
As Joffrey got closer to his steed, he was greeted by the sight of probably the biggest man he had ever seen. The man was immense. To call him huge would be an understatement. The giant stood even taller than Robert if he had to guess he was at least 6 ft 9 and probably weighed no less than 300 pounds. He wore soot-dark, brigandine-style armor, with an olive-green cloak draped over his shoulder. The giant man's most distinctive feature, however, was his face, or rather, what remained of it.
When the man turned to face him, it took all of Joffrey's emotional control to prevent his face from breaking out in shock. Half of the man's face and head bore deep, burned scars that ran from his neck all the way to the top of his head. The scars left black patches of flesh with craters and deep cracks that oozed red and wet. His ear was only a small, stumped hole with a hint of bone showing on his jawline.
The real scars were much worse than anything a TV show's makeup could simulate. Only once Joffrey was a few feet from the giant did the scarred man turn to address him.
"My prince, your mount has been prepared."
His voice was rough and raspy, with the burnt corner of his mouth twitching as he spoke.
"Thank you, Sandor," Joffrey responded in a polite tone that didn't betray any of his earlier shock.
The hound's good eye slightly widened with surprise at hearing the boy's polite response. After all, he had grown all too accustomed to the spoiled little shit's moniker "dog." He actually couldn't remember the last time the cunt boy had addressed him by his name in all his years as the prince's sworn shield.
"Mmm… yes, well, we best get a move on," he half-grunted. "His grace won't like being kept waiting."
"Of course," Joffrey answered with an easy smile, adjusting his crimson brocade cloak and putting on his black riding gloves. Then, with ease, he put his foot in the horse's stirrup and pulled himself up.
Daniel had never ridden a horse a day in his life back on Earth, but thanks to horseback riding being one of the few things the real Joffrey had enjoyed "besides killing small animals," he could rely on his new body's muscle memory.
The hound simply nodded before turning to find his own stallion. Eventually, all the guards mounted their steeds and were ready to depart. Joffrey urged his horse forward toward the middle of the royal procession, where the royal family was supposed to ride, surrounded by guards. As he approached, his sworn shield flanked him, wearing his signature helmet crafted in the shape of a hound.
When he finally made his way to the front, he found his "father" waiting, surrounded by his Kingsguard. The fat stag was dressed in a dark brown brocade fur cloak and boiled leather armor, and at his hip lay a two-handed longsword. As Joffrey approached, the king turned his head to address him.
"Are you finally ready to depart, boy?" He asked in his signature booming voice, clearly irritated after the journey to his old friend had been delayed by several days.
"Yes, your grace," Joffrey replied, bowing his head slightly.
The king looked over the boy for a second before grunting. Then, he turned his black stallion away and led the royal procession forward, with his guards and son following suit.
Once they were outside the castle's walls and back on the Kingsroad, Joffrey took in the sight of the countryside. The landscape was vast and mostly undeveloped, with rows and rows of large pine tree forests and snow-capped mountains as far as the eye could see. The cool air prickled the crown prince's skin, and his breath became visible.
Soon, the party pushed forward and resumed their journey to Winterfell, the ancestral seat of House Stark. As the group rode down the muddy road, one of the king's Kingsguard rode up beside him.
"Are you excited to see the capital of the north, my prince?" the knight asked.
Joffrey turned his head, his body moving with the rhythm of his horse, as he appraised the knight. He was tall, though not nearly as tall as the king or the Hound. He wore the beautiful silver armor of the Kingsguard, along with the white cloak that draped down the back of his horse. As the knight stared into his eyes, Joffrey noticed the eerie resemblance to his mother's emerald green eyes. Then it clicked who he was talking to.
"Yes, Uncle, I must say that I am," he responded politely, causing Jaime to furrow his brow.
"I can't imagine why," he continued, scoffing. "There's nothing to see up here, and the cold is enough to freeze a man's cock off."
"I guess it just depends on what you view as beautiful, Uncle," Joffrey said with a shrug. "Perhaps you should try to keep an open mind."
Jaime gazed at Joffrey as if he was gazing upon a strange new animal, with clear confusion spread across his face. Never in all his years of guarding his petulant nephew had he ever said any words of any real meaning. Jaime began to suspect that something drastically had changed in the young prince from his "incident" with his father. Seeing his "uncle's" suspicion, the prince decided to change the subject.
"Though I must confess I'm much more interested in meeting the man who helped my father overthrow the Targaryen dynasty, along with his family."
"Ah, yes, the honorable Ned Stark," Jaime responded with a tone that was a mix of respect and bitterness. "Though I suppose you're more interested in meeting your intended?" His face broke into a mocking grin that even his helmet couldn't hide.
Joffrey just shrugged, unbothered. "I already heard from around the castle that Ned Stark's eldest daughter is quite the beauty. Apparently, she took more from her mother's side of the family."
Jaime nodded at this news, remembering well the time he had met Catelyn and her sister Lysa. He remembered that even then, she was quite beautiful, though nowhere near as beautiful as his sister.
"Though I have to say I'm more interested in meeting the man's son."
His words snapped Jaime out of his thoughts. "Yes, his heir. I believe his name was Robb or something."
"No, no, not his heir," Joffrey shook his head. "His bastard, Jon Snow."
"Snow? Why in the seven hells are you interested in meeting some bastard from the north?"
"When I was asking around the castle trying to inquire about our future hosts and their personalities, the one thing I kept hearing was the martial skill of the old wolf's bastard son."
The Kingsguard remained silent at the prince's words, who continued to look ahead as they rode.
"They even said that he's as skilled as you when you were his age."
A deep frown soon replaced the knight's arrogant smirk. "Is that so?" he asked, with clear irritation in his voice.
"That's what I heard, at least, so I'm curious to see for myself."
"…I must say, now so am I," Jaime said, with a small glint in his cat-like eyes.
"I'm assuming my mother ordered you to check up on me?" Joffrey asked.
After a brief pause, the knight responded, "Yes, your mother is very concerned with your health and insisted that I make sure you were okay."
"Well, please inform her for the hundredth time that I'm perfectly healthy enough to ride my horse."
The Kingslayer nodded before turning his horse around toward the royal carriage containing the queen and his siblings. Joffrey watched the incensed knight's back as he rode away, a small smirk growing across his face.
The journey continued for several more days, at which point the royal caravan would stop each night to either stay in some nameless lord's castle or set up tents, like he was used to from his time in the armed services. Personally, he was more comfortable with the latter. After three more days, he spotted a large building on the horizon.
"Urgh! Finally! My arse couldn't take another day of riding!" The fat stag bellowed at the sight of the castle.
As much as he hated to admit it, the prince agreed with the king for the first time since he appeared in this world. His arse was aching, and he was starting to develop saddle sores. As they got closer, Joffrey's eyes went wide at the sight of the medieval architecture and the skill it must have taken to build it. The castle was huge, spanning several acres at least, and was encircled by two massive stone walls. Once they had gotten close enough, the sight of a small town built just outside the castle's walls came into view. From what he had read in the northern lord's library, the town was called Wintertown and had been built long before the dragons ruled.
As the king's men made their grand entrance into the small town, the prince noticed the lines of northern soldiers lined up on both sides, standing at attention. They each held the banners of their liege lord, with their sons standing right alongside them. Eventually, the royal procession rode through the castle's gate and were greeted by the sight of the entire castle's host standing ready to greet them.
Jaime rode in first, followed by the Hound, and then Joffrey. As he stopped his horse beside his sworn shield, he began looking upon the many faces in the castle's courtyard. Eventually, his eyes fell on Lord Stark and his family. Any lingering doubt about whether he was in the book version or the show vanished as he looked over the noble family.
From what he could remember from the story, the individuals from right to left were Rickon, Catelyn, Eddard, Robb, Sansa, Arya, and finally Bran. None of them looked anything like their show actors. As Joffrey appraised the soldiers of the great house, he suddenly felt eyes on him. Immediately, he turned his head and saw a young redheaded girl, whom he assumed to be Sansa Stark, staring intently at him. Seeing the young girl's sweet smile, Joffrey decided to give one of his own, causing the little dove's cheeks to flush.
Unfortunately, her brother witnessed this and stared at the young prince with daggers and clear protectiveness in his eyes. Joffrey chuckled to himself, silently approving of the older brother's natural territorial nature, and gave the future lord a nod of respect. Robb was slightly surprised by the gesture, but before he could react, the king slowly entered the courtyard. The entire castle's host all bowed down as one and bent the knee to the fat stag as he led his horse to the center of the yard.
A servant quickly ran up and placed a stepping block beside the horse's side, as the royal carriage made its way through the gates. The king quickly dismounted his steed and made a beeline for the still-kneeling Stark wolves. Robert strode past the kneeling soldiers and stopped just a few arm lengths from his old friend. He paused for a moment, looking down at his foster brother as if appraising the changes that had come from their time apart.
Slowly, he gestured with his hand for the old wolf and his entire host to rise. The northern lord complied, and he, along with the others, slowly rose to their feet. "Your Grace," Ned said, his tone deep and solemn.
The king didn't respond immediately, still looking over his old friend. "...You've gotten fat," he finally spoke in a flat tone.
There was a collective awkwardness in the air as no one spoke. The old wolf then gestured with his eyes toward the fat stag's belly. A warm smile broke out across the king's face, and a booming laugh filled the quiet courtyard. The old wolf and other members of Winterfell soon joined in. The two brothers-in-arms embraced each other in a deep hug, still laughing about the happy reunion.
"Cat," Robert said, moving down to hug the Lady of Winterfell as well.
"Your Grace," she responded respectfully, as he ruffled the youngest son's hair.
"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"
"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace," Ned said, smiling warmly. "Winterfell is yours."
Slowly, Joffrey and the other members of the procession dismounted. The prince's mother's handmaidens and servants soon exited the carriage, followed by his siblings, and finally the queen herself, wrapped in warm furs. As she made her way to the lord's family, she looked around the northern castle with clear derision in her eyes.
After Joffrey finally finished handing off his horse to one of the castle's servants, his father was already finished meeting the Stark family. "Ah, and let me introduce my son, Joffrey," the king bellowed. "Oi, boy! Get your arse over here."
Joffrey rolled his eyes at his "father's" words but complied and made his way over. Joffrey stopped a few feet before the old wolf.
"Lord Stark," he said respectfully, bowing his head.
The northern lord looked surprised by the young man's polite attitude and returned the gesture. Joffrey then moved down the line, as the king did, and greeted each of the Starks differently. He shook Robb's hand with a firm grip. He smiled as charmingly as he could muster for the young Stark girl, making her coo slightly, before he took her hand into his and kissed the back of it. The poor girl looked like she was ready to faint from the gesture.
Cute, Joffrey thought to himself.
He repeated the move with the younger daughter, who seemed much less impressed and even rolled her eyes a bit, making the prince chuckle. With the young boy Bran, he just gave him a sympathetic look and ruffled his hair, annoying the boy who immediately tried to fix it.
The queen then finally made her way over to the Warden of the North and offered him her hand, which he promptly kissed. "My Queen." "My Queen," Lady Stark curtsied.
Soon the king interjected. "Take me to your crypts. I want to pay my respects."
Cersei immediately became irritated by the fat stag's request. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait."
Robert just ignored her and ordered Ned to lead the way. Cersei looked spitefully at the king and old wolf as they left the courtyard. Joffrey himself looked at the fat stag with resentment for how blatantly he disregarded his mother's feelings.
"Where's the imp?" The young Arya asked her older sister, cutting through the awkward tension.
It was the first time Joffrey had realized that he hadn't met his infamous uncle yet and that he hadn't been traveling with them since they stopped at the castle. Cersei gave the young noble girl a side-eye upon hearing her question, before turning to her twin.
"Yes, where is our brother?" She asked, her tone sharp. "Go and find the little beast."
She then turned her attention to her three children. "Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, come with me," she said in a sweet voice. "Let's get our chambers squared away."
Tommen and Myrcella immediately moved to their mother's side, but Joffrey held back.
"Actually, Mother, I would like the chance to visit Winterfell's library."
Cersei looked confused. Her eldest cub had never taken an interest in books before; now it seemed like he couldn't get enough of them.
"Are you sure, Joffrey?"
"Yes," he confirmed, nodding his head. "I mean, as long as I have permission from our hosts, of course."
Joffrey turned his head toward Lady Stark, who looked astonished by the crown prince's request. Looking between the prince and the queen, she quickly agreed.
"Yes, of course, that would be fine," she said, nodding. "Maester Luwin, please escort the young prince to our library."
The old maester stepped forward, bowing to the Lady of Winterfell.
"Of course, my lady," he said in an old, raspy voice. "Right this way, my prince."
Joffrey soon followed the withered grey man as he led him into the medieval stronghold, leaving the rest of the northern host behind.
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