I rubbed my temples.
"Mother, we've been talking for hours but we still haven't gotten to the most important part." I said
"And what would that be, Joffrey?" Cersei asked softly.
"We've come to the conclusion that Jon Arryn will be killed soon enough, haven't we?" She nodded, so I continued. "Robert is going to want to find another man to rule the Kingdoms while he eats, drinks and whores his way to an early grave." She grimaced. "Who do you think it'll be?"
"If he had a drop of sense it'd be your grandfather, but this is Robert we're talking about. Probably one of his brothers." She replied
"Renly is a sword-swallower and Stannis has the charisma of a wet blanket. He's never loved his brothers, not the ones he has by blood." I retorted.
"Fair enough. Who will it be, then?" she inquired.
"There's only one choice. Ned Stark." I said and she frowned.
"That tree-shagger?" she exclaimed before settling down. "Only Robert could be so idiotic."
"I fear that's not the worst part, mother." I said, a look of worry flashing on her face. "He'll want to travel North to give Ned Stark the job himself, carrying us all along with him." Cersei raged, throwing a crystal goblet at the walls of the room, shattering.
"I won't let him." she vowed.
"Mother, you arguing will only make him more determined to go. You still have to do so, for appearance's sake, of course, but don't fret. This is an opportunity." I replied.
"How so?" she asked, a look of disgust still evident in her face.
"He is a fool. He values his honour over everything but the lives of his children, which means that his actions are incredibly limited. Jon Arryn was a skilled politician, willing to allow the ends to justify the means. Stark will never do anything to sully his precious honour, and that's what makes him weak." I argued, and her features seemed to soften.
"I hope you're right, my darling, I sincerely do." she said.
"There's just one more thing." I stated.
"What, Joffrey?" she asked
"Robert has never forgotten Lyanna, as you very well know." she scowled. "He'll want the same for me. He'll almost certainly betroth me to Sansa, perhaps even Myrcella to Robb and Tommen to Arya." This time a vase was the thing that met the wall.
"He won't! I won't let him!" she fumed.
"Mother, we've established that if there's anyone who can't convince him to not do something, it's you. It's a pity, and it's not your fault, but it's the truth." I said, though she did not seem to be any less enraged.
"We obviously can't allow the other two to happen," I continued, "but Sansa is the perfect candidate for a marriage."
"How can you say that?" Cersei said, feeling betrayed.
"Mother, we're not Targaryens. We need to marry out of the family, into the other Great Houses. For obvious reasons, the Martells are out. The Arryns, the Lannisters and the Tullys have no maiden daughters. This leaves the Baratheons with Shireen, the Tyrells with Margaery and the Starks with Sansa. Shireen is disfigured by greyscale and my cousin besides - she won't bring in any alliances. Margaery is her grandmother's protege, and we do not want a politically competent woman for my wife. You've been able to fill the Red Keep with Lions, we don't want the Queen of Thorns to do the same with Roses."
"And what makes Sansa better than the others?" she sneered
"She's never left Winterfell and the North doesn't have politics like we do, except for maybe the Boltons. From what I've heard, she's enthralled by stories - those of handsome princes, honourable knights and true love. She'll fall in love with me at first sight and that'll be the end of it. She won't scheme, she won't try to manipulate me, she won't try to advance her family." I replied
"Hmm." she grunted, not fully convinced.
"I just have one thing to ask of you." I pleaded
"What, my dear?" she asked
"I need you to act as if you like her, and are happy that I will be marrying her. There's nothing to be jealous of. If you try and harm Sansa's love of me, it will cause us both a world of trouble." I said, and she frowned.
"Very well, I'll do it. But for you, my dear, not for Sansa or Robert or anyone else." she replied.
"Thank you, mother." I beamed and she smiled softly in response.
"But if your assessment of her is not correct, I will do whatever it takes to protect you." she warned
"I would expect no less, mother." I warmly replied before getting up and looking at the clock, finding that it was already sundown. "Oh, look at the time. Please excuse me." I continued before leaving the room. Cersei was unable to respond in time.
We all had our own chambers inside the wheelhouse - it was a truly gigantic thing - and, as there were no major castles on the Goldroad until Deep Den, we were going to be spending our nights inside. The quarters of the Crown Prince were the third biggest, behind the King's and the Queen's, and held their own bath.
"Sandor, please tell the servants to run me a bath." I said and he nodded before going to do just that.
I opened the door and entered, removing my shoes. I looked to my bed and found Myrcella sat upon it, a look of bravado on her face.
"Myrcella, what are you doing here?" I asked softly
"You're different." she blurted out.
"What do you mean?" I replied, astounded.
"I saw you and uncle Jaime sparring." she said "I only stayed a few minutes, but I saw that he threw you to the ground a dozen times. You would've been angry after just one time and left in a huff, but you didn't even complain."
"I'm sorry, Myrcella. Truly. For everything that I've done." I answered, my voice as smooth as silk.
"Nuh uh." she replied. "Joffrey would never apologise. You're not Joffrey."
She jumped off the bed and started running for the door but I stopped her. Myrcella was four years younger than me and a girl besides, so it didn't take much effort. I picked her up and put her on the bed, sitting beside her. Her face turned to fear.
"Myrcella, do you prefer the new Joffrey or the old Joffrey?" I asked
"The… new Joffrey." she said hesitantly
"Do you want the old Joffrey to come back?" I prodded. She shook her head vigorously.
"Did you like the old Joffrey?" I continued
"No." she said, shaking her head.
"If you prefer the new Joffrey, don't want the old Joffrey to come back and didn't like the old Joffrey, shouldn't you be happy?" I goaded
"Yes?" she replied, mostly as a question.
"Then we don't have a problem." I stated, not leaving room for argument. Myrcella nodded weakly.
"I don't expect either of you to forgive me for what I've done. I do promise that I'll be different. Better." I said, removing my hold from her.
Myrcella took a few seconds to regain her bearings but then bolted out of the room, almost certainly to talk with Tommen. Hopefully this won't backfire and end up with me assassinated for being a Faceless Man.
"Your Grace?" I heard a feminine voice call. "Your bath is ready."
I got up and went towards it, finding a wooden tub inlaid with a linen cloth, covered with a canopy of the same material. I undressed, leaving the clothes to be picked up by the servants, and gingerly entered into the bath, sighing deeply as I allowed the warm, almost hot, water envelop me.
— — — —
I woke up with a lurch as the wheelhouse went over a bump. Thankfully, I slept like a rock and nothing could wake me until my body was ready, otherwise I would've been miserable. Robert wasn't exaggerating when it said this damnable thing climbed every bump as it was a mountain. I grunted as I pushed myself up, the noise alerting the servants who came in to dress me.
"What would you like to wear today, Your Grace?" one of the servants, a girl just a few years my elder, asked as I put on my slippers.
"I'm going to be sparring with my uncle, so those." I halfheartedly answered.
A flurry of activity passed through my groggy eyes as I was undressed and then dressed by them. I stayed there, unmoving, for a few more moments before I returned to my senses, blinking repeatedly. I looked down to find that the clothes I was wearing were practical and incredibly high quality, though in no way ostentatious. I found Jaime waiting for me in the entrance corridor, two steel swords at his side.
"Slept in, did you?" he said, moving towards me
"This bloody wheelhouse." I grumbled
"You'll get used to it." he replied
"That's not wood." I said matter-of-factly, pointing at the swords.
"You've got a keen eye, nephew." he japed "You're good enough to train with blunt steel."
"Hooray" I sarcastically cheered. Jaime patted me on the back.
"You're going to do fine. Besides, I can't make you bleed - your mother would have my head." he said
"We have a deal, uncle. You don't go easy on me, and I hide my wounds from her." I complained
"That was with wooden swords. You can hide bruises. You can't hide cuts, not without a risk of them festering." he explained, leaving no room for further debate. "Come on, let's go."
I muttered a few obscenities under my breath as I followed him. We got out of the wheelhouse and to our horses, which had been following it. The wheelhouse stopped regularly for a variety of reasons and when it was moving it did so at a glacial pace, meaning that we could ride out ahead, spar for hours and meet it when we finished.
"Tommen came to see me last night." he said as we mounted our steeds.
"What did he want?" I asked, trying to contain my nervousness.
"He asked if it was true that I was training you. He didn't seem very convinced by my answer. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" he inquired. Jaime didn't have Tywin's gaze, but he was able to get answers of out somebody when he needed to.
"Myrcella figured out the same thing that you did. That I'm different. I found her waiting in my room and after convincing her that I wasn't a faceless man, she probably went to tell Tommen." I explained and he laughed.
Before he could continue the conversation I pushed my horse into a canter and rode forwards, Jaime following close behind. After a while we got to a clearing that was good enough for our purposes and I dismounted. After a few moments he arrived and did the same. He threw one of the swords at me and I caught it in the air.
"Huh, this is lighter." I noticed, speaking my thoughts out loud.
"That's the point of the wooden sword, you know." he replied
"Yes, yes, to build strength and all of that." I said dismissively, waving my hand. He grunted in displeasure.
"Uncle, I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while. They call you the Kingslayer, don't they?" I said and his face tensed.
"They do, nephew." He responded curtly.
"I… I don't know how you live with it, honestly." I continued
"What do you mean?" he asked
"To be despised and reviled for your finest moment - where you risked your honour, not even mentioning life and limb, for the greater good."
"The greater good?" he inquired, dumbfounded. I acted the same part.
"You saved half a million lives, uncle." I replied and shock flared on his face.
"How, how do you know?" he asked.
"I was exploring through the Red Keep one day and found a few jars in the tunnels. I opened one of them and found that it held a murky green liquid. I immediately closed it and ran away. I never mentioned it to anyone - I wasn't allowed to be in the tunnels - but I did ask the Grand Maester what that murky green liquid was. When he told me it was wildfire, it took a while, but eventually it all clicked. It also explains why you killed Rossart and those other two pyromancers." I explained
"I've kept that a secret for over a dozen years." he said.
"You and Ser Barristan are the only ones that remain of the Mad King's Kingsguard." I continued, "You both swore vows - those of a Knight and those of a Kingsguard - but had to choose only one. Barristan chose the latter, but you chose the former. For that, you'll always be twice the man he is."
— — — —
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