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.

"There is no way I can see so, Your Grace. Much of his army fled when he surrendered, and those that were captured seem genuinely distressed."

I nodded. "Very well, just keep an eye on the captives. I myself would like to get a look at them when the blasted maesters allow me to move again."

"Do you know when that may be, Your Grace?" Tywin asked.

I shook my head. "All the maesters have said is that my leg needs to heal further before I can even think of putting any weight on it. Even then, they said I may not be able to walk on it."

A sullen move took over the room. "Anyway." I declared. "How may do we have captured?"

"The smallfolk have been freed Your Grace." Answered Lord Stark. "We have maybe two hundred notable nobles, including Lord Tyrell, Ser Baelor Hightower, and Lady Brienne of Tarth."

"A Lady?" I feigned ignorance.

"She believes herself to be a warrior, Your Grace." The contempt was thick in the voice of the Lord Paramount of the West.

"It is my experience that some of the best warriors have been women." The Stark Lord said. Of course, the famous women warriors of House Mormont were the vassals of the Starks.

Lord Tywin snorted. "If you beg me leave Your Grace, I have matters to see to."

"Of course, Lord Tywin."

He bowed and departed the tent.

"I would like to see this Brienne of Tarth, my Lord, once I am able to move again."

"Yes, Your Grace."

I sighed and lent back. "What kind of King could I be if I can't even walk, let alone fight?" I spoke my thoughts aloud.

"Jaehaerys the Wise was always more inclined towards reading than fighting, Your Grace."

"Yes, but he had dragons, and he could still wield a sword if he needed to. I certainly don't have dragons, and I may not even be able to use a sword."

"Your Grace, perhaps the answer is to prevent the need to fight in the first place. Peace is always preferable to war. Now, forgive me, but I have a son to find." With that, he bowed and left to find Robb, who I assumed had been rescued by the Frey and Lannister forces. So caught up in my self-pity was I, that I had forgotten to even ask if he was safe.

I sighed, I was a mess, I needed to sort this out now before it brought my Kingship into question. I contemplated the words of Lord Stark and frowned. Only I knew that what was coming was not preventable. There was no way to make peace with the dead. War was inevitable.


Two weeks later saw me finally leaving my tent. It had been a struggle, but with the help of a cane, and the arm of Ser Barristan, I was able to stand out of bed and walk. In a strange way, I was thankful. I was aware it could have been far, far worse. If Ser Barristan had not been there, I would not have been able to make those small steps. Even though my leg roared in agony every time I moved it, I could walk. And for that, I would always be grateful.

I said as much to Ser Barristan as I stood for the first time in over three weeks. He simply nodded and said, "It is what I swore to do, Your Grace."

I breathed in the fresh air as I left tent. Most of the armies had left, after it became apparent we were not going to be attacked I gave them leave to do so. After all, it was the men here who were needed to tend to the crops and harvests back home. Robb had thanked me for rescuing him, even though I technically had nothing to do with it. I told him as much, but he refused to listen, before leaving with his father and the Northern troops to head back to the land of ice, the Tullys accompanying them. The Freys also left, I made sure to personally thank Ser Aenys, even though internally I was quite annoyed about the fact it had taken them so long to honour their oaths. It was best to not create more tension however, so I made them feel good and celebrated them leaving quietly. The Lannister army had left, but Tywin said he wished to accompany me back to King's Landing, no doubt plotting something. I had no reason to refuse him that request, the animosity between us having dissipated, so he was still here, waiting for me as I left the tent.

"Your Grace, it is good to see you back on your feet."

"It is good to be on my feet, grandfather. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to know what you planned to do with the rebels."

Said rebels had long been moved into their own basic tent. I refused to leave them open to the elements for two reasons. One, they were all nobles so it would be against the rules of combat to house them in such a way, and secondly, it would be cruel to do so. I imagined that he was talking about punishments and the like however, not their living conditions.

"They shall be brought back to King's Landing. I shall decide what to do with them once we are there." I answered his follow-up question before he even asked it. "We shall depart tomorrow, my Lord."

He nodded, bowed, and left. I headed towards the remaining troops, nearly all from the Crownlands, and spent some time in their company, pretending I wasn't king for a few hours, before I headed back to the cesspit that was King's Landing.


"All rise for His Grace, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, the First of His name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"

The doors to the throne room opened after the steward made the announcement. I entered the throne room; an audible bang being heard on the stone floor with each step. As I entered, I saw the shock on the faces of the people of the court. Their King had returned, victorious, but wounded.

This was the first anyone had seen of me since I arrived. The caravan had arrived late into the night. Cersei and Tyrion were the only people of note who had greeted me, I had planned it that way, there was no need for the people of King's Landing to see their King struggle to exit a wheelhouse. Mother had enveloped me into a hug, crying about how sorry she was, how it was all her fault. I didn't understand what she meant but I told her it was alright; I hated seeing her cry. I had slowly lowered to my knees to give Tyrion a hug. He too was crying, but he said nothing as we embraced. As I stood, I let out a cry of pain, this was the exact reason I didn't want anyone to be here. The King should be strong, he should be able to stand without screaming.

I slowly lowered myself onto the Iron Throne. I shifted, trying to make myself comfortable. Great, now I have to deal with an uncomfortable seat and a leg that was already beginning to hurt.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court." I began. "The pretender and his army have been defeated. Peace has been restored."

The court cheered.

"Now however, it is time to deal with the traitors."

The room went silent.

The steward spoke again. "Lord Renly Baratheon!"

Renly was brought in. He was thinner than I remembered him being, having eaten little since his capture over two moons ago. He wore clothes little better than rags, and had chains around both his ankles and wrists.

"Lord Renly, you have betrayed not only your King, but your nephew. Your treason motivated by little more than anger from being dismissed from the Small Council. You waged war against the people of Westeros, and caused the deaths of thousands of innocents. What do you have to say for yourself?" I asked, genuinely interested in what he would have to say.

My curiosity was not quenched however, as he did not speak. He simply stared at the ground where he knelt, utterly defeated.

"Very well." I said after waiting a few moments. "Count yourself lucky uncle, that I would not break the rules of the gods and make myself a kinslayer. However, you cannot walk away free from your crimes. Therefore, I Joffrey of the House Baratheon, the First of My name, King of the Andals the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm do hereby strip you of all your titles, wealth, and possessions, and sentence you to a lifetime of servitude, protecting the land you betrayed, with the Night's Watch."

It could be seen as a harsh punishment, but I thought it was fair, it gave the Crown a fair bit of cash, and gave me a title to give to secure someone's loyalty.

Renly was taken away by the City Watch and the next name was called.

"Lord Mace Tyrell!"

Mace Tyrell was similarly dressed in plain clothes, and bound in chains.

"Lord Tyrell, you have discredited your House, inciting this rebellion by manipulating my uncle into breaking his oaths." I looked up and faced the courtiers. "Does anybody really believe that my uncle would have incited this rebellion if he had not been given assurances by a powerful House? House Tyrell is certainly powerful, the most powerful of my uncle's former allies." Leaving the court to contemplate that, I turned back to Mace. "Lord Tyrell, you broke your oaths to the Crown by supporting, and causing this rebellion. And for that reason, it is clear that the Crown can no longer trust what it thought was its strongest ally in the Reach." Mace's eyes widened as he began to comprehend what I was about to do. "Before I pass judgement, I will allow you to plead your case, Lord Mace."

"Your Grace, please, I pledge my House's allegiance to you. Our undying loyalty. House Tyrell will be your staunchest supporters. You can marry my daughter, to prove our loyalty."

I barked out a laugh. "Even now, you try to better your position by any means necessary, do you have no shame, Lord Mace?"

The court laughed, and Lord Tyrell went beet red.

"Your words mean nothing, Lord Tyrell. Having broken your oath now, how can you be trusted to honour them in the future. No, Lord Tyrell, you have made it so that the Crown can no longer trust House Tyrell to carry out the Crown's will in the South. Therefore, with sorrow, I, Joffrey the First of My name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby revoke the titles of Warden of the South and Lord Paramount of the Mander from Lord Tyrell and his issue. Further, the Crown will impose a fine of three million gold dragons on House Tyrell and orders the taxes of House Tyrell to be doubled for a period of ten years. Lord Tyrell, you are dismissed."

Lord Tyrell was hauled out by the City Watch.

"The rest of the houses who betrayed the Crown will be subject to doubled taxes for ten years, and that shall serve as their punishments. Now, on to other matters. Lord Tarly, approach."

Lord Tarly, who had been stood behind the throne came around and knelt at the bottom of the dais.

"Lord Tarly, House Tarly has served the Crown well for decades, and remained true to the oaths it swore to the Crown, even when all those around it took up arms against me and swore themselves to the pretender. House Tarly defied its liege lord to defend the Crown and for that, I thank you. As a sign of the Crown's gratitude I, Joffrey, the First of My name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby grant Lord Randyll Tarly, and his issue the title of Warden of the South, and Lord Paramount of the Mander. Arise, Lord Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill, Lord Paramount of the Mander, and Warden of the South."

Lord Tarly, usual rather stoic, looked rather emotional as he stood, before he seemed to catch himself, and his blank face returned. He bowed before he once again took up station behind the Iron Throne.

"Lord Stannis Baratheon, approach."

Stannis knelt before the Iron Throne.

"Lord Stannis, ever since my father defeated the Mad King, you have done everything asked of you dutifully, serving the Crown throughout. My father overlooked your claim to Storm's End, instead giving it to Renly. Recent events have proven how unfortunate that decision was. It is my honest belief that if my father had given you your rightful title, this war would have been diverted. Alas, we cannot change the past. But we can right previous wrongs. And that is why I, Joffrey, of the House Baratheon, the First of My name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men do grant Lord Stannis Baratheon and his issue the title of Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Arise, Lord Stannis, Lord of Dragonstone, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Stannis stood, looking visibly shaken, and returned to his spot behind the throne.

By now the court was deathly silent, a lot had changed in a matter of around an hour.

"I will be truthful, Lords and Ladies. I am lucky to be sat here today. It is thanks to the action of one man, Ser Barristan Selmy, that I am still here. If it were not for Ser Barristan the Bold saving my life, by taking Ser Loras Tyrell's before Ser Loras took mine, I would be dead." The court was collectively leaning forward now, eager to see where I was going with this.

"Ser Barristan Selmy embodies what a knight should be. He is the symbol of a good knight. However, I am aware that not all knights are like Ser Barristan, or Ser Jaime. There are knights who tarnish the name of such men. These men do not deserve such recognition. That is why I am making changes to the system of knighthoods. Firstly, knights can be created only by the King, and the Lords Paramount. Secondly, all knighthoods from this moment, apart from those given to members of the Kingsguard, the City Watch of King's Landing, and the equivalents across Westeros, and those in direct employment of any House in Westeros is hereby annulled. Those wishing to reclaim their knighthood can do so by petitioning the Small Council. It is my intention to bring honour back to being a knight. To do so, these drastic steps must be taken. Finally, knighthoods should be a pan-Westeros institution, to be held in high regard no matter where in Westeros one is, thus the influence of the Faith shall be curbed. No longer shall a knight swear to each of the Seven. They shall simply swear to their gods. These reforms shall make being a knight something of which to be proud. So that I can honestly say that I am as proud and as humbled by each knight as I am of Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Court is dismissed."