A Good King - A Joffrey Baratheon Insert

Ambush

Pain. Agony. Excruciating agony. That is all I felt. I looked up, wide-eyed, the sword rose and almost in slow motion I saw it coming down again. Inching closer and closer. I couldn't move my legs. I closed my eyes. And for the first time in my life here, I prayed to the Seven, to the Old Gods, to the Drowned, to the Lord of the Light, to anyone listening, and I meant it. I still have so much to do. Please, don't let me go yet. I've only just begun; there's still so much left to do.

Then, a warm liquid squirted onto my face. The metallic taste on my lips gave me the answer to what it was: blood.

I opened my eyes. And a sob left my mouth, the knight was gargling on his own blood, a sword shoved through his throat. Then, the sword was pulled out again, and my quite literal knight in shining armour was revealed.

"Your Grace, you're alright, can you stand?" He asked.

I wanted to respond to Ser Barristan, but I couldn't. The words were jumbled up in my throat. It felt like I couldn't breathe fast enough, sweat poured down my face and as I tried to stand, pain rushed through my leg. I cried out and fell forward once again. This time, Ser Barristan caught me in his arms.

"Your Grace, you're going to be alright." He assured me. He then turned his head away and yelled "Kingsguard, protect the King!" Soon after, the four knights of the Kingsguard who had accompanied me surrounded me. Shielding me from the battle which I, for the first time since I had fell, realised was still ongoing.

Ser Barristan, with me still in his arms, began to run. "Fall back", I muttered, hoarsely. He must have heard me for he bellowed "FALL BACK!"
As he ran, to Gods know where, my head began to pound, my ears began to ring, and I saw no more.

One Moon Earlier

"My Lord, I promise you we will get Lord Robb, as well as the other men who have been captured."

"Cat was right, I shouldn't have brought him." The Lord Paramount of the North said morosely. For the first time ever, he looked broken. Though I wasn't surprised, for we had just heard about the capture of Lord Robb and the men that had been raiding the Baratheon camp with him. Just a few hours earlier a raven had arrived from the usurper's camp that read as follows:

Joffrey Baratheon,

I, on behalf of His Grace, Renly, of House Baratheon, the first of His name, the rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do inform you of the capture of Robb Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark and the heir to Winterfell.

Our terms for the release of the prisoner are as follows:

The immediate surrender of your forces.

Your immediate abdication.

Your endorsement and recognition of His Grace being the one true King.

Signed, Maester Jurne

Now though, the Lord was in my tent just after my War Council had departed. I had decided it was time to attack. My grandfather had warned that Renly's men's moral would be rejuvenated thanks to the capture of Robb. However, I was dead set in the need to attack. I would not have Robb being kept prisoner any longer than he needed to be, and I felt that, if the setting was right, then we could win. My resolve was strengthened when Lord Tarly said that winning was possible, as long as the strategy was sound. I tasked him with coming up with one.