"You monstrous freak! You are no son of mine!" He yelled, the antler crown upon his head.
"Father no! I'm sorry!" I wailed, tears pouring down my cheek.
"He was my brothers son and you murdered him in cold blood! Why you incestuous bastard? He was but a child!" He roared.
"Father, please you don't understand!" I yelled. "Mother, please tell him!" I pleaded hopelessly but she just stood there hatred in her eyes. "You disgust me." She said viciously and her words struck me like a ton of bricks and I sobbed some more.
The reincarnated Robert Baratheon strode towards me and I moved back as far as I dared, praying to the Old Gods and the New and the thousands from my previous life that somehow this ordeal would end without my death.
But it was not to be as my father strolled towards me; his war-hammer in hand. "Die bastard!" He roared and swung the huge metal death stick. It struck straight in my stomach and I went flying off the edge of the tower and I felt myself falling, somehow not dead already.
And I fell, and fell and fell.
And then I awoke in a cold sweat. The light outside my window telling me it was day. I sighed as I glanced around the room, every now and then I would have this recurring nightmare. My dead father 'taking revenge' for his brother and my mother staring at me with cold contempt in her eyes. Every time I had it I questioned whether or not killing Bran was the right decision and every time I decided it was. I knew what was coming - I didn't need him and yet he could have destroyed me. But even still it nagged at me.
Sighing yet again I stared into empty space for a good ten minutes until there was a knock on the door and one of the servant girls entered and headed through the door to draw me my daily bath. Hygiene was very important, especially when you live in this filthy shit hole.
I placed a few silver stags on the table, something I do every day before heading instead to the bathroom and excusing her.
After I had finished bathing I re-clothed and headed to my office. I was working on securing more trade with the people of the Free Cities and also the Iron Islands. After the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion father had continued the Westerosi policy of ignoring the Iron Islands. I, on the other hand, thought this stupid. Now that a more friendly House had been installed as Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands (Lord Rodrik Harlow has ditched the title of 'Lord Reaper' soon after the war, in an effort -I assume- to abandon the negative connotations that name carries and to distance themselves from the troubled past of the islands.) I decided to try and improve the still somewhat frosty relations between the Crown and the Iron Islands. In that spirit I had sent a raven to Lord Rodrik with an offer. Everyone knows that the Iron Islands make the best ships and so I had offered Lord Rodrik a monopoly in ship production for the Royal Fleet. I had had plans for an expansion of the fleet for a while and now with the increased tensions with the Reach I thought now was the best time. In return I offered Lord Rodrik weapons and armour from the capital, as well as an exception from the food tax. When I arrived at my office I found a raven with the seal of House Harlow on it, within was a letter accepting my offer.
I had just penned my reply asking for the immediate production of 20 ships, 10 for trade 7 galleys and 3 warships when the door burst open and a servant entered. "Your Grace, the Small Council has been called by Grand Maester Pycelle!" He exclaimed. I thanked him and headed off to the Small Council chambers, fearing the worst. The only reason Pycelle would convene the Council is if he has received an urgent letter and the only thing I could think off currently that would require such a letter is if Renly had instigated an attack.
As I entered the chambers my worst fears had all but been confirmed as I observed the grim faces of the Small Council, especially on Tyrion's. After we were all seated Grand Maester Pycelle spoke.
"Your Grace, I have just received this letter from Lord Tywin Lannister." He then continued to hand me the letter in a shaky hand. The seal was already broken I unravelled it and began to read.
Your Grace, Joffrey Baratheon King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.
Lord Renly Baratheon has invaded the Westerlands with a force of approximately 100,000 men and is pushing towards Casterly Rock. Already, he has taken Crakehall. Your Grace, I write to request your aid in this conflict not only upon your oath sworn as Protector of the Realm but upon the blood we share.
Moreover, Lord Renly has sent a raven proclaiming that he is the true King of the Seven Kingdoms and that you are an illegitimate, incompetent King. Though I again declare allegiance to you, Your Grace, the one true King.
Signed,
Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West.
After reading I sighed, something I had been doing a lot recently. Then I turned to Lord Varys and asked "why did I not here of this impending attack until now? You are my Master of Whispers, you should have known of this before, unless you did and refrained from informing me?" Something that is entirely possible, I still do not trust him fully.
"I would never do that, Your Grace. Unfortunately it seems my Little Birds have not had much success infiltrating the pretender Baratheon's camp. I will increase my efforts." He simpered.
After berating Lord Varys I turned to Stannis.
"Why would he attack the Lannisters?" I asked. "He has 100,000 men, why not go straight for King's Landing?"
"Well the Lannisters were likely to join the war anyway, I assume he thought that it would be best to try and eliminate them as soon as possible." He replied, stroking his beard.
I nodded at the explanation before once again facing Pycelle. "I want ravens sent to every Lord Paramount asking them to call their banners, and to re-declare their allegiance to me. Once a positive response is received order them to assemble at the Crag" He nodded his head in understanding. Then to Tyrion I ordered, "Steward Tyrion I ask you to work on improving the cities defenses, it is best to prepare for the worst case scenario." He also nodded.
"Lord Wylde prepare the Royal Fleet." I dictated.
"Lord Stannis, assemble an army, tell them about what has happened, promise them honour, respect, money and even a knighthood if they succeed. Ser Barristan, you and Lord Randyll along with the rest of the Kingsguard and some good men from the City Watch will train them. We will leave for the Crag as soon as we know who will be meeting us their."
I received a chorus of "Yes, Your Grace," before I decided to move on.
"Speaking of which, who can we expect to honour their oaths?" I asked. It was Uncle Tyrion who answered.
"The only definitive apart from the Houses of the Crownlands are the Lannisters, Your Grace. They would likely have joined anyway but since they have been attacked they are already on your side. It is possible that due to the warming tensions the Iron Islands will join, however at the same time, they enjoy their isolation. The Martell's will want nothing to do with a war aiding the Lannisters but equally they will not want to install another Baratheon, so they will remain neutral. The Reach are on the side of Renly, apart from Lord Tarly and any other houses he may be able to draw to our side."
Here he looked at the Lord of Horn Hill, who glanced at me and nodded his affirmative.
"The Vale will absolutely not join, the Lady Arryn despises you due to what you did to Lord Baelish, and unless the Knights of the Vale overthrow her, the armies of the Vale will stay within the Eyrie. The fate of the Riverlands depends on the action Lord Stark will take, and though he is currently not your biggest fan, his esteemed honour may win out, if he marches so too will the army of the Trout."
"So in total," I summarised. "The only certain men we have are the men of the Crownlands and the Westerlands. And even then, most of the Crownlands still hold sympathies to the Targaryens and so only around a quarter of them will send men, so around 5,000-8,000 men from their and then around 30,000 Westerland men. So at this current time we have around about 37,000 men compared to the 100,000 rebel army."
Tyrion summed it up perfectly: "fuck"
A/N
Ooh Joffrey's in trouble. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. As always leave a review, let me know what you thought. Also I want your opinion on an idea that's been floating around my head. I know that this is a Game of Thrones fanfiction but I was wondering about what you would think of a Harry Potter story, namely a Voldemort SI. The idea's just been nagging at me and I just wanted to gauge your reaction. I may just post it anyway if it keeps bothering me but I always want to see what you think. Once again thank you for reading!