I woke up with a frown. This was proof that I was not living a dream. I'd never gone to sleep and woke up still in the dream before, so I must have been transported into the body of this illborn abomination. Thankfully Joffrey hadn't inherited any physical deformities from his parents, but it was good that I was going to marry Sansa. A Lannister has never married a Stark in the past, and as far as I know the same is true for the Tullys. We really could use a bit of diversification there.

There weren't any responsibilities for me today so nobody came in to wake me up, though the blasted sun made sure I was up and about early once again. I put on a pair of slippers - red and gold like everything else in this damned room - and walked to my study, opening the book on the Laughing Storm and continuing to read it. It was very well written - almost like a novel and not a history book - and the vocabulary was very similar to our own. I knew Common was just English, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was contemporary English. This man was legally my great-great-grandfather, though as far as records went I didn't have a single bit of genetic material in common with the guy. He seemed like a jovial enough fellow, probably great fun to be around if he wasn't angry. 'Ours is the Fury' is very much an accurate term for the Baratheons - Lyonel had a temper so extreme that it was rare that he went a month without a duel, and that was outside tourneys.

I put the book away and dressed myself in the least assuming of the outfits that were present in my wardrobe, though it was still too elaborate for my taste. Apparently the servants heard me walking about in my room as soon after they came in carrying my breakfast and were surprised to find me already dressed. I cursed myself internally - decades of living in the modern world meant that I stopped being dressed in early childhood like a normal person, and it was instinct. I sat down to eat but I wasn't very hungry, and left most of the plates untouched. The amount of food waste the keep generates must be immense, that is if it isn't used to feed its employees.

As soon as I finished the meal I tied Lionheart's scabbard and its belt around my waist, the sword nestled inside. I opened the door with a push, finding it to be incredibly well balanced to the point where it took little effort to do so, and discovered that Sandor Clegane, the Hound, was the man outside my door.

"Say, Sandor, can you tell me where I'd find my uncle Jaime at this time?" I asked the man, who raised an eyebrow in response.

"I think he's with the Queen." he grunted and I nodded in recognition before walking in that direction. Thankfully, the Queen's chambers and my own were close by, though that did not help to ease the feeling of dread as I thought just what Jaime was doing with Cersei at this time. To my great relief, he was simply standing outside as Cersei was probably sleeping.

"Your mother is still asleep." he said

"I know, I wanted to talk with you." I responded, and he raised an eyebrow.

"And why is that, if I may ask?" he inquired

"I received a sword from mother yesterday and, while I've been training for a while, I'd rather learn from the best swordsman alive." I answered, and he smiled.

"Alright. Meet me in the sparring field after dinner." he said

"I have a better location." I countered. "I haven't been exactly putting a lot of effort into my lessons and I'm significantly behind. There's this open-air balcony in a corner of the Keep. Meet me at my study at midday and I'll take you there."

He nodded in response and extended my arm for a handshake and Jaime responded in kind. I then started walking towards the offices of Grand Maester Pycelle. While a craven who does everything in his power to bend the rules of his office, he was undoubtedly loyal to the Lannisters and Tywin specifically and that is what I was betting on. Sandor followed me like the animal adorning his sigil, though because of orders from Cersei. I was pretty sure he deeply resented this aspect of his job, but it paid well and allowed him to eat all the chickens he could ever want. We soon reached the door to the library.

"Stay, Sandor." I said, and he did. I opened the door, finding Pycelle writing his moonly report back to the Citadel. He raised his head and directed his pale, rheumy eyes towards me before noticing who I was and doing the closest thing he could to jumping out of his seat.

"Your Grace! Please forgive me, I was not expecting such an honour." he said sycophantically

"Do not fret, Grand Maester. I just wish to collect a book. I believe it is called something along the lines of 'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses?'" I said and his eyes opened in surprise.

"It is a ponderous tome, Your Grace. Are you sure?" he asked

"Yes, Grand Maester. Would you be so kind as to tell me where it is? There's no need to stand up." I replied, shocking the poor fellow.

"Of course, Your Grace." he continued "Olivar! Come here and take the Crown Prince to the book he wants to read. It's 'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children'"

As he said that a young man, a few years my elder but shorter than me by quite a few inches, came out of the bookshelves and started walking deeper into the library. I followed him and soon after he arrived at where the book was, climbed up the rolling ladder and picked up the tome in question. It was thick and old and he handed it to me when he came down, before bowing and going back to his job. I then retraced my steps back to where Pycelle was waiting and gently lowered the book onto the table before taking a seat next to him.

"Who are you truly loyal to, Grand Maester?" I asked

"The, the Crown, Your Grace." he stammered back

"We both know that's not true. I already know who - it's my grandfather, Lord Tywin. I don't blame you - he's everything my father is not. He delivered great prosperity and security to the realm over two decades, even while dealing with a madman of a King. In exchange, he got nothing but resentment and insults, culminating with my uncle Jaime's admission to the Kingsguard. He's frankly the person I admire most as well." I said and he seemed to relax

"You know that my grandfather's greatest dream was to seat one of his grandchildren on the Iron Throne, which he will succeed in doing through me." I said, and he nodded in response. I opened the book to the page on the Baratheons.

"Do you mind if I read to you, Grand Maester?" I asked, and he nodded, telling me to do so. I cleared my throat.

"Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair." I started

"Lord Rogar Baratheon, black of hair."

"Lord Boremund Baratheon, black of hair."

"Lord Borros Baratheon, black of hair."

"Lord Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair."

"Lord Ormund Baratheon, black of hair."

"Lord Steffon Baratheon, black of hair."

"King Robert Baratheon, black of hair."

"Prince Joffrey Baratheon, golden haired." I finished and he seemed to pale even further.

"You do understand what this may lead people to believe?" I asked

Pycelle started to stammer and I raised my hand to stop him from continuing.

"Is this the only copy?" I inquired, and he nodded.

"Good." I said as I picked up the book and dropped it in the fireplace and it caught fire.

"Your Grace!" he exclaimed. "That book was priceless!"

"And yet it is nothing in comparison to my grandfather's legacy and dream, don't you agree?" I said, and he quieted.

"None of us shall ever speak of this again. I have heard rumours that the Lord Hand is investigating my legitimacy and others will do so as well. You once convinced the Mad King to open his doors to my grandfather's army. I am sure you will be able to convince them that there is nothing to worry about." I said and he nodded weakly in response.

I then walked out the door and found Sandor waiting outside.

"What time is it?" I asked

"Probably around midday." he answered

"My uncle is waiting for me." I said and started walking quickly back to my study. It was about the same distance as to Cersei's chambers and it took me a bit to go there, though less than the last leg had. Sandor had no trouble keeping up but it was a slight workout for me. I arrived just as Jaime was turning the corner carrying two practice swords.

"Ah, good, I'm just in time." I said and Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"Where were you?" he asked

"I was with the Grand Maester. Shall we?" I replied and, after he nodded, started walking towards the balcony where Arya trained with Syrio.

It took a lot of concentration and I almost made a few wrong turns but we got there eventually. It was calm, quiet, separate from the rest of the castle and had an almost pleasant smell to it. Perfect for my needs.

"You weren't lying. This truly is better." Jaime admitted and I flashed him a smile. This was too much for him.

"You're… different, Joffrey. You're calmer, more collected, less…" he seemed lost for words.

"Of a cunt. You can say it." I replied, shocking him.

"How?" he asked

"I've grown up, I guess. Did you know that by the time he was two-and-ten Viserys II was already married with a son on the way?" I answered. "That realisation that I was actually going to have responsibilities soon just hit me yesterday."

"Well, I speak for everyone when I say it's more than welcome. As you said, you were a bit of a cunt." He said, handing me the sword.

It was heavier than a wooden sword had any right to be - probably filled with lead in order to make it more suited for training - but it was well balanced. I had been an avid fan of HEMA and historical - especially mediaeval - reenactment and that meant that I would probably be ok. I decided to make sure of something before we started, though.

"Mother ordered you to go easy on me, didn't she?" I asked and he shrugged.

"You know her." he answered.

"Please don't. Nobody else will." I said and he smiled.

We both got into fighting positions and I struck first. I seemed to be dominating the fight in the beginning as I pushed him back a few steps and he remained in the defensive, but it was all a trick as I became cocky, overextended myself with a lunge and ended up on the floor, a dull pain in my stomach just a few moments later. Jaime smiled arrogantly and handed me my sword back.

"Again." he said, and I got up.

— — — —

Thanks for reading!

This is book canon except for Myrcella's and Tommen's ages.

Jon Arryn is poisoned and dies within a fortnight of the name-day celebrations and gets the book the day before he was killed, meaning that he hasn't gotten the book yet. For the visit to Casterly Rock, I don't understand how it makes any sense. It's like eight hundred miles and Cersei's wheelhouse travels at glacial speeds, but apparently they're there when news reaches them of Jon Arryn's death. It's just bad writing, I guess.

I'll assume there's two months instead of two weeks because Mr. Martin failed middle school math.