Chapter 1: The Lion Shows His Claws

The Red Keep was suffocating under the sweltering heat of summer. Ned Stark had always hated this city. Ever since he had arrived at Robert Baratheon's summons, the weight of King's Landing seemed to press down on his shoulders. Even this morning, the air was heavy and humid, and the sunlight beat down relentlessly on the stone walls of the castle. Ned stood by a window in a room adjacent to the throne room, observing the courtyard below where knights were training in a cloud of dust.

It had been more than ten years since he had spent so much time in King's Landing. The last time was at the end of Robert's Rebellion when they had overthrown the Mad King. Since then, Ned had never felt the need to return to the capital. The North was enough for him. Here, intrigue was like an invisible net, wrapping itself around every word and every glance. Robert had asked him to come to discuss some important matters concerning the security of the southern borders. But Ned knew that the real discussions were mostly about the Lannisters.

Ned watched the courtiers pass below him, their rich robes in stark contrast with the dust that rose beneath their feet. King's Landing was a city of contrasts, and even here, in the Red Keep, the shine of the gold barely concealed the underlying rot.

A sudden cry pierced the regular murmur of conversation. Ned frowned and turned toward the large doors leading to the throne room. An unusual agitation seemed to stir among the servants, who whispered to each other with anxious glances toward the inside. Ned hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.

As he approached, he spotted Joffrey, Robert's son, confidently walking across the throne room. Ned didn't know the young prince well, only by reputation, but he had already heard disturbing stories about his behavior. However, he hadn't expected what was about to unfold.

In Joffrey's hands was something dark and formless, hanging limply. As the young prince approached his father, Ned finally discerned what he was holding: the corpse of a pregnant cat, its belly ripped open, with the tiny unborn kittens still visible inside the mutilated body. A wave of disgust surged within Ned. The cruelty of the scene went beyond anything he could have imagined.

Robert, seated on the Iron Throne, was in the middle of a discussion with Jon Arryn and several other advisors when his son abruptly entered. The king half-rose, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation.

"Joffrey? What are you doing here? We're in the middle of something important," Robert grumbled, trying to maintain a semblance of calm.

Joffrey didn't answer immediately. He simply walked up to his father, the same arrogant smile that Ned had seen before on the faces of certain courtiers. A smile that was neither sincere nor kind. Joffrey then held the bloody corpse out toward Robert as if presenting him with a gift.

"Look, Father," he said in a clear voice. "I killed it myself."

The silence that followed was so intense that Ned felt as if time had frozen. Jon Arryn, ever composed and stoic, averted his gaze slightly, as if unable to bear the sight of the corpse. Robert remained still for a moment, his face contorting in disbelief. Then, slowly, anger began to rise within him.

Ned's heart grew heavier. This child, this heir to the throne, did he truly understand what he had done? His cruel smile, his insensitivity to death—it all brought back memories Ned would rather forget. Memories of the Mad King's final days.

Robert finally stood up, his eyes widening with rage he barely managed to contain. His voice, usually booming, was now low and laced with menace.

"You… killed this?"

"Yes, Father," Joffrey answered, still smiling. "She was going to have kittens, so I killed them too. You always say it, don't you? If you're going to kill your enemies, you kill them all."

Those words struck something deep within Robert. His fists clenched, and before anyone could react, he slapped Joffrey hard across the face. The sound echoed through the room, leaving everyone frozen in shock. Joffrey staggered, his eyes widening in surprise, not from the pain, but from the blow itself.

"Fool!" Robert roared, his anger twisting his features. "Is this what you think a king does? Killing for pleasure? You're nothing but a child… a monster at that!"

Robert's words cut like knives. Joffrey, who had never been questioned in this way, stared at his father with red-rimmed eyes, filled not with shame but with defiance. Ned, standing quietly in the back, wondered if a child like this could ever be redeemed. He saw something irreparable in Joffrey's gaze, a cruelty that ran deep.

Jon Arryn, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward cautiously.

"Robert, he's just a boy. Perhaps..."

"A boy?" Robert barked, cutting Jon off. "A boy doesn't do this, Jon. This is what Cersei has done to him. Look at him. Is this the future king we want?"

Robert suddenly turned to face Ned, clearly seeking support.

"Ned," he began, his voice still shaking with anger. "Your sons aren't like this. Robb, Jon... they are honest, brave. They have honor. What have I done to deserve a son like this?"

Ned didn't know how to respond. It was true that his own sons had been raised in an environment where honor and justice were core values, but every child was different. Could Joffrey truly be changed by being taken to the North? He doubted that the North's simple, harsh life could erase the cruelty that already seemed embedded in the boy's heart.

"I can't let him become this," Robert murmured, more to himself than to the others. "Ned, you've raised sons fit to be kings. Take him with you. Show him what honor is."

Ned felt the weight of Robert's request pressing heavily on him. He understood Robert's intentions, but he doubted that Cersei would allow her son to be taken away so easily. And indeed, the queen's reaction came swiftly.

The doors to the throne room opened abruptly, and in walked Cersei Lannister. Radiant in her golden robes, she strode across the room with a determined step. Her gaze quickly shifted from Joffrey, still reeling from his father's blow, to Robert, whose rage had not yet cooled.

"What is going on here?" she asked sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the furious expression on Robert's face.

"Your son," Robert growled, "just proved how badly you've raised him. He killed a pregnant cat, Cersei. He butchered the kittens, and he came to show me like it was some sort of triumph."

Cersei's reaction was not what anyone expected. Instead of shock or horror, she fixed her icy gaze on Joffrey. The act of cruelty didn't seem to faze her. In fact, she appeared almost… indifferent. To her, violence and domination were part of what it meant to be a future king. This wasn't the first time Joffrey had displayed such behavior, and in her eyes, it was almost a sign of strength. A faint smile flickered at the corners of her mouth, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared when she turned her eyes back to Robert.

"He's a child, Robert. He needs to learn," she said, her voice soft but dripping with condescension. "You can't blame him for something so insignificant."

Robert's fury only grew at her words. Ned could see the king struggling to contain the fire inside him. Their marriage had been a farce for years, a silent war fought with bitterness and unspoken resentment. And now, it was their son at the center of the storm.

"Insignificant?" Robert repeated, his voice booming. "You call this insignificant, Cersei? He slaughtered a pregnant animal for fun. He killed helpless creatures and he's proud of it. If this is what your influence has done, then you're the one who's turned him into what he is."

Cersei's face hardened at Robert's accusation. She straightened, her green eyes blazing with fury and defiance. She wasn't a woman who accepted humiliation easily, not even from a king, and certainly not in public.

"Turned him into what?" she hissed. "It's you, Robert. You, who spend your time chasing whores and drowning yourself in wine. You've never been there for him. If Joffrey is like this, it's because you abandoned him the moment he was born."

The court, petrified, held its breath. Few dared to intervene when Robert and Cersei clashed, but this time, the intensity of their confrontation was unlike anything anyone had seen before. Cersei's words were like poisoned arrows, aimed to wound Robert where it hurt most. Ned could feel the tension in the room rising with every second. He had long known about the chaotic nature of their relationship, but seeing their hatred explode like this, in front of their own advisors and their son, revealed just how twisted their marriage had become.

Robert clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He cast a glance at Joffrey, who still looked at his father with that strange mix of defiance and confusion. Ned, for his part, remained silent, weighing the gravity of the situation. He knew that what was happening here went far beyond the mere cruelty of a child. It was the future of the realm that lay in the balance, and it was clear that Robert had lost control of his heir.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, Cersei," Robert warned, his voice low and dangerous. "If you think I'll let this slide, you're sorely mistaken."

"And what will you do, Robert?" she sneered. "Hit him again? Is that how you think you'll make him a king?"

Robert, seething, turned abruptly to Ned, as if seeking an ally.

"Ned, you know what honor is. Your sons… your sons aren't like this."

Ned, who had so far tried to stay out of the family conflict, now felt all eyes on him. He would have preferred not to be dragged into this, but he understood now that Robert was looking to him to solve a problem he didn't know how to handle. However, Ned couldn't ignore the complexities of the situation. He barely knew Joffrey, and what he had seen today gave him no confidence.

Ned remained silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling. He wondered if a place like Winterfell could truly change Joffrey. The boy had grown up in luxury, surrounded by manipulation and cruelty. Could he endure the rigors and simplicity of the North? And more importantly, could he adopt the values of honor and justice that Ned had instilled in his own sons?

Ned thought of Robb and Jon. Robb, destined to one day lead the North with wisdom and compassion, and Jon, who despite his status as a bastard, had proven himself to be a man of trust and courage. Neither of them was anything like Joffrey. This boy had something deeply unsettling within him, a darkness that Ned had never seen in his own children. Could he truly be reformed? And more importantly, should they even try?

Robert broke the silence.

"Take him with you, Ned," Robert said finally, his voice exhausted but resolute. "He can't stay here. Let him learn what real power is. Not the kind of power Cersei tries to teach him with her games of intrigue and manipulation. He needs to learn what it means to be a man, not a coward hiding behind plots."

Ned felt the weight of the request settling heavily on his shoulders. He understood Robert's intentions, but he doubted Cersei would allow her son to be taken so easily. The queen's reaction was swift.

"There is no way my son is being sent to that wolf-infested hole," she hissed, her face twisted with anger. "Joffrey is a prince, the heir to the throne. He belongs here, in King's Landing. I will not allow him to be subjected to the influence of a Northerner. I know your customs, your values, and they are not fit for a king."

Cersei stepped closer to Robert, her eyes flashing with fury. She knew her husband could be impulsive, but she didn't believe him foolish enough to actually send their son away from her. Yet, as she looked into Robert's determined eyes, she realized he was willing to do whatever it took to keep Joffrey out of her reach.

"Cersei," Robert growled through clenched teeth, "I am the king. And I won't let you turn our son into a miniature version of yourself. You've poisoned him long enough. He will go to Winterfell, and that is my decision."

Cersei's gaze hardened further. She understood that she would not win this battle, not today. But she was not a woman who accepted defeat easily.

"Very well, Robert," she said, her voice icy. "Send our son to the North if you must. But don't come crying to me when you see what he becomes there. A wolf can never raise a lion."

She turned to leave, but before walking out, she gave one last look to Joffrey. Her son stood tall despite the blow from his father, his eyes still red but filled with that dangerous glint.

"Remember, Joffrey," she said softly, but loud enough for the whole room to hear. "You are a king. And no one can ever take that from you."

With that, she exited, leaving behind a chilling silence.

Robert remained still, his fists still clenched, his face still contorted with barely controlled rage. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to Joffrey, who was now staring at the door where his mother had stood just moments ago.

"Ned," Robert murmured without turning to face his old friend, "take him. I don't know what else to do with him."

Ned nodded, though a part of him still hesitated. He knew this task would be arduous, and perhaps even impossible. But he could not refuse his friend's plea.

"I'll do what I can, Robert. But..." Ned paused, searching for the right words. "There are some things that can't be changed, not even in the North."

Robert did not reply. He walked slowly away from the Iron Throne, his imposing figure suddenly weighed down by the burdens of fatherhood and kingship. Ned, for his part, cast one last glance at Joffrey before leaving the room. The boy still hadn't moved, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance, locked on the spot where his mother had just stood.

The future of the prince was now more uncertain than ever.