Lord Walder Frey scrutinised the letters that had been sent to him. He smiled wryly at the irony of it all: for years he had been unappreciated, laughed at behind his back, yet now both of the so called Kings come crawling at his feet, begging for his help. Now he held the fate of Westeros in the palm of his hand...

Her Grace, The Dowager Queen Cersei stared out at the city of King's Landing. At her side was her son Tommen, who was talking animatedly about the new glasshouses, which for some unknown reason, he had taken a liking to. Though in reality, she was not really listening, her mind was occupied by the two holes in her heart; her son and her lover, fighting at war, it tore her to pieces. She prayed every day for their safety, and every day she cried herself to sleep in worry. To make matters worse, a priestess for the God of Light had arrived in the capital, spending more and more time with Lord Stannis; she didn't know what to do, but she knew it spelt trouble. In worry, she pulled Tommen closer to her, his laughter warmed her soul. "Be safe" she prayed. "Be safe."

POV Change

A few hours ago, we had begun moving south east towards Silver Hall. I hope to make it there within a few weeks of hard riding. Annoyingly it would take longer than a simple A-Z trip, I had decided to spare the men and horses and so we would be travelling around the mountains, rather than over them.

I had not spoken to my grandfather since my outburst in his chambers back at the Crag and since we left I have not had the opportunity to, as he has stayed at the back of the long column of men. I had decided quite soon after the incident however, that I would not apologise to him; I am no longer a boy in need of a 'lesson', I am his king, and I won't take his disrespect any longer.

Either way, as we travelled along an insignificant road, I decided to strike up conversation with Ser Jaime, who was beside me, simply to try and quell the boredom. We talked about a variety of topics: ranging from the war we found ourselves in, to some of the plans I had for when we returned home. Eventually, we landed on Cersei.

"She was only worried about you, you know." He said, I had just finished a rant about how she was often overbearing; like when she refused to let me leave the palace entirely at first, and then at my continued insistence, I was permitted to leave, but with five of the Kingsguard and around twenty of the City Watch. Renly wasn't happy at the loss of the already overstretched City Watch.

"I know that." I replied. "I just wish that I could've had a bit more freedom."

"I understand." He said. "I remember when I was younger, all I ever wanted was to be able to go and play outside, or practise my swordsmanship, but father insisted I went and did my lessons with the maester."

"Speaking about your father." I began. "I stormed out on him a few days ago."

"Why?" He asked, a frown on his face.

"He was doing that thing he oft does when he carries on writing when you've walked in to talk to him." I explained. "And after a while, I'd just had enough so I said that I was here to fight his war, so he should show me some respect."

"That couldn't have gone down well." He winced.

"Well, we haven't spoken since."

"I was wondering why he wasn't up here." He muttered, twisting on his horse to look behind him, at the trail of men as far as the eye could see.

We fell into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes and I turned my attention to Ser Barristan.

Lord Tyrion was perplexed. After Joffrey had voiced his concerns about Lord Varys seemingly not knowing about the gathering of Renly's men, he had launched a discreet investigation, mainly just having Varys followed, seeing where he went and who he spoke to. His spies -people who worked in the Keep- reported back to him every other day, in his office, the perfect cover. But they all reported the same thing: nothing. He did nothing out of the ordinary. He went in his own office, around the same time every day, he went out into the city, around the same time every day, he went back to his chambers, around the same time, every day. He did nothing unusual. And quite frankly, that worried the Imp. Lord Varys knew everything about everyone. There was no way in hell that he missed 100,000 men being brought together at the Reach. He must be up to something, he has to be. So what is he doing and where is the proof? Tyrion decided he must get involved personally. So with that he headed to the Tower of the Hand, he wouldn't do it himself; it was time to get Stannis involved.

A few weeks later, the large group of men came to a stop a mile or so outside of Silver Hall. The new base of operations for the army loyal to me. I ordered the men to begin preparing the tents and I also told Ser Jaime to get a team together to dig the trench; I wanted it dug as quick as possible - no one would be getting dysentery in my army. I headed into the field and began helping the men set up the tents, I needed something to do and I enjoyed spending time with the men; it was refreshing talking to people who didn't feel the need to suck up to me, though they obviously weren't disrespectful they didn't spend every waking moment trying to suck up to me. And I enjoyed it. I dismissed Ser Barristan and Ser Arys, wanting time to myself.

It was a few hours later as I was talking to men from House Slynt who were quizzing me on what I wanted to do as king (I had rather passionately started explaining why I wanted to set up schools to teach people to read and write) when I heard a commotion. Seconds later a richly dressed man came running in our direction. "Your Grace!" He shouted. "I think the men need you."

I started walking to where the noise of commotion has originated and after pushing through the men I came upon the cause of the brouhaha. Two men were arguing, one Northern and one Westerlander.

"It's my fucking tent!" The Weaterlander shouted.

"I don't give a shit." The Northerner sneered, inebriated massively, if the slurring could be believed. "I needed to piss, so I pissed." He said it as if it was obvious.

"On my tent! Besides the King said to piss in the trench. Does this look like a trench to you?" He yelled gesticulating wildly at his red tent, which had a wet mark starting impressively high up and reaching the floor.

"The King can piss off! Treating Lady Sansa as if she was a pile of cow shit. His betrothed!"

"You make a load of noise 'bout nothing. It's nothing new is it? And Lord Stark seems to have forgiven him."

"Well Lord Stark should grow some balls, I'm pissed off at being forgotten about simply 'cus I'm from the North. The blood of the First Men run through my veins!"

"Well fuck the first men and fuck you too, you cunt!" The man from the Westerlands retorted before starting to turn away, but before he could the Northerner punched his temple and started stomping away at the mans head. Knowing that it would end badly if he was allowed to continue I ran in, despite the cheering of the gathered crowd. I tried to pull the Northerner away but he pushed me aside and walloped me in the face. I heard some gasps from the crowd but was more concerned with the searing pain in my nose. He went back to the floored man whose previously pale face was now covered in blood and muck. He was hacking on the ground and he looked dazed. The Northern man kicked him in gut before he spat on him and turned to me. I wiped the blood from my nose which I suspected was broken as he sneered at me. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He scoffed.

Before I could answer I heard the rattling of armour and the voice of Ser Arys yelling at people to move. Someone had obviously called for help. Then he reached me and asked if I was ok.

"I am fine Ser Arys, however I would ask for you to get this man to the centre of camp and his victim some help."

It was around thirty minutes later (after a healer had re-set my nose and both Ser Barristan and Ser Arys had apologised for not being there, even though I had dismissed them, as I kept reminding them) that I had marched to the centre of the camp. Hundreds had gathered around, I saw all the major Lords, even Lord Tywin standing around watching as the man (who Lord Umber has told me was one of his men, Daron. I assume he had learnt from someone else, I doubted he knew the man personally) was dragged towards a makeshift platform fit with a wooden block. I stepped up beside him and started speaking.

"Before we came here I gave a direct order. It was easy enough: use the trench. It makes sense, wouldn't you rather walk a bit further to a trench than become sick and die, leaving your family with nothing? Obviously not, this man decided he would rather risk his fellow soldiers and himself become sick than walk to the trench and piss. Not only that, but he also attacked a fellow soldier who confronted him. He also attacked me, his King, this is treason and he has been judged guilty of such."

As I glanced away from the gathered soldiers I saw Lord Eddard bow his head, presuming he was about to witness a mans death.

"I will however be lenient, it was obvious he knew not who I was when he lay into me with his fist and so I will give him a choice." I looked down at him now. "Daron. You have been guilty of treason against your king, however I will leave it up to you to decide your fate. You may either be sentenced to a life serving the realm with the Night's Watch, you may have your balls removed as punishment for not using the trench, or you can have the original punishment: death. It is up to you."

He bent his head as he made his mind up. Though I didn't know what he was thinking about. Why not be castrated? He could still serve his family, and live. Yet he seemed to be thinking for a long time.

"Death." He whispered. My eyes widened.

"May I ask why?" I said.

"I have no family, they died years ago. There is nothing left for me now. I will forever be known as the man who punched the King. I will have no life back home. And I could not bare to spend my life at the Wall, with the rapists. At least with death I will see my sweet Joan again." He said firmly.

I nodded. And unsheathed my sword.

"I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do find you guilty of treason and sentence you to die."

And with that I lifted my sword and brought it down sharply, Daron's head separated from his body and rolled down across the makeshift podium, stopping at my feet. I whispered a quick prayer to the Seven and looked at the people below.

"May this be a lesson to you all. I do not give a shit if you're Northern. Or from the Crownlands or anywhere in between. We fight for the same cause, we all want the same thing, to get back home. We work together, and Renly will be defeated sooner and then you will see your wives and children again quicker, and you can tend to your land again and prepare for the coming Winter. But if we fight and you do not listen, then we will be less prepared and we will fight for longer. And you will wait for longer and fight for longer before you see your wives and children; the more you fight the less likely you are to get back home. So please, be civil, get to know your fellow soldiers, and let's get back home."

And with that I walked away, to my tent, telling Ser Barristan to gather the Lords. It was time to fight.

A/N

Thank you for being patient, I know that in reality nothing really happened in this chapter but I needed something to happen before next chapter, where the raiding party starts fucking with Renly and maybe the first true battle, but that might be the chapter after next. I don't know yet.

Please leave a review and tell me what you thought.

Once again thanks for reading!