A Good King - A Joffrey Baratheon Insert

Awakening

The trek back to the Royalist camp was the best time some of the soldiers had ever had. Those who were victorious were jubilant; happily participating in drinking and revelry, under the watchful eye of their commanders of course. These men mixed without care to class or station, wealth or poverty; they were simply victorious and that was all that mattered. Lannisters mixed with Starks, Freys with Tullys and no one gave it a second thought. They were happy, and any thought about what life would be like when they returned to their homelands were the furthest from their minds.

Those who were captive, stationed in the middle of the caravan, thousands of them, in chains, bound at ankle and wrist were not so keen to participate in the joyous occasion. Misery permeated in their section of the trail of men. They were angry, self-pitiful, and above all, confused. They felt betrayed, Renly Baratheon, the man they had sworn their undying loyalty to, had surrendered. For many of them, this made little sense. The army of the one true King outnumbered that of the pretender sat on the Iron Throne. They had more resources, thanks to the loyalty of the plentiful Reach, they had a similar sized navy, one that had been harassing the Westerlands for moons, and in the name of the Seven they had more men! But still, Renly Baratheon had surrendered. Only a select few could hazard a guess anywhere near the truth. Only the nobility in Renly's camp, and those who had been stationed outside his tent late at night could guess the real reason for the sudden surrender. They however kept quiet as their former comrades wondered aloud as to the cause of the scene they had seen, when Renly Baratheon knelt at the feet of the proud lion, and swore fealty to Joffrey Baratheon, declaring him once again to be the one true King.

Just over three days later, the troupe entered the Royalist camp. Those nobles who had been captured were brought into the middle of the camp, and were placed under guard, tied to stakes, until shelter could be provided for them, the smallfolk were freed.

Lord Eddard Stark greeted those returning, he had stayed at the camp, along with most of the Stark men, in case of a surprise attack. "My Lord," he began as he approached Tywin. "Good news, the King has awoken."

Lord Tywin nodded and dismounted from his horse. "Is he of sound mind?"

"He seems it." Stark replied. "The few maesters who have arrived say he has suffered no mental ailment. They are concerned about his leg however."

The two lords started heading in the direction of the Royal tent. "In what way?" The Lannister Lord asked.

"They say that it may be irreversibly damaged, my Lord."

"Will he be able to walk?"

"They aren't sure."

The two men walked in silence until they arrived at the tent, both being admitted with a bow from the Kingsguard.

"Your Grace, Lord Lannister and Lord Stark."
I looked up as the announced men entered my tent. I still felt a little dreary from whatever remedy the maesters had given me, but the business of the Realm waited for no man.
I was propped up in bed, looking very unkingly as they bowed to me.

"Grandfather, it is good to see you again."
"Likewise, Your Grace."

I nodded at Lord Stark, it had been just an hour or two since I had last spoken to the Northern Lord.

"I take it that the attack was a success, Lord Tywin?" I asked.

"More than, Your Grace, Renly Baratheon surrendered."

I blinked in astonishment. I hadn't expected that.

"But Lord Stark told me it was only meant to be a quick skirmish."

"Indeed, but he walked straight towards me and swore fealty to you."

"There is no way this could be some sort of trap?" I asked cautiously.