Chapter 2: The Departure from King's LandingPOV: Joffrey Baratheon
The morning sun barely pierced through the thick curtains of young Joffrey Baratheon's chamber. The six-year-old boy had been awake for a long time, his eyes fixed on the richly decorated ceiling above him. Today, he was to leave King's Landing.
Why? he wondered again. Why was his father sending him so far away, to the North he already hated, even before setting foot there?
He got up, annoyed by the stifling silence of his room. This departure gnawed at him. Everything he had done, everything he had shown his father, was supposed to be proof of his strength. He wasn't like other children. He had killed the cat to show he wasn't afraid of death, that he was capable of doing what was necessary. But instead of understanding, Robert had slapped him. In front of the entire court. Humiliated. The memory still boiled Joffrey's blood, even days later.
"It's not fair," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists.
He wasn't a coward. He was the crown prince, destined to be king of Westeros. And yet today, he was being forced to leave his city, his kingdom.
As he turned toward his wooden sword, the door to his room opened silently. Cersei Lannister, his mother, entered without a sound. Joffrey tensed for a moment, but the mere sight of his mother soothed his frustration slightly. She knew, she understood. She saw his greatness, where his father only saw cruelty.
Cersei approached her son with the natural grace that characterized her. She gazed at him for a moment, a slight smile playing on her lips, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern. She sat gently on the edge of Joffrey's bed, watching him in silence.
"My little lion," she murmured in a voice soft but full of firmness. "Are you ready for your journey?"
Joffrey remained silent for a moment, his brows furrowed. He hated that word: journey. To him, this wasn't a journey; it was a punishment.
"Why do I have to go, Mother?" he finally asked, frustration seeping into his voice. "Father hates me. He doesn't understand me."
Cersei sighed lightly, a shadow of sadness briefly crossing her face. She gently stroked her son's golden hair, fixing him with her piercing green eyes. She knew it: her son was special, destined for things greater than even Robert could imagine.
"Your father is weak in many ways," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "He thinks sending you there, to Stark, will make you... better. But he's wrong."
She looked him straight in the eyes, hoping to plant her words deep in Joffrey's mind.
"What your father doesn't understand is that you're already stronger than any other child. What you did... with the cat... it was an act of strength. A king mustn't be afraid to make hard decisions. Stark might try to teach you his northern values, but always remember that you are a lion. And a lion bows to no one."
Her words warmed Joffrey's heart. His anger transformed into cold determination. He didn't want to leave, but if that was the price to one day prove to everyone that he was the rightful heir, then he would pay it.
"Father doesn't love me," he repeated, his voice calmer but still full of resentment.
Cersei placed both hands on her son's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, her face hardening.
"Your father doesn't understand greatness, Joffrey. He's more concerned with his pleasures than his duty as king. But you, my son, you are different. One day, all of this..." She gestured toward the window, encompassing the city and the kingdom. "All of this will be yours."
Joffrey nodded, feeling pride swell within him. His mother was right. He mustn't let this departure defeat him. He had to see it as an opportunity. One day, he would show Robert that he was worthy of the throne.
"I promise you, you will return stronger," Cersei added, placing a light kiss on his forehead. "And when you return, you'll be ready to take your place."
POV: Ned Stark
Down in the courtyard of the Red Keep, Ned Stark stood tall, watching the convoy's preparations. The journey to Winterfell would be long, and bringing the young Joffrey Baratheon with them would not make things easier. He knew this child was already corrupted by the court, and the cruelty he had shown so young deeply troubled him.
Ser Rodrik Cassel, always by his side, watched the men adjusting the horses' harnesses. He approached Ned, murmuring softly:
"Do you think this boy can change, my lord?"
Ned remained silent for a moment, his eyes on the gates of the Red Keep.
"He's still a child, Rodrik," he finally replied. "He can learn. But... what I've seen in him isn't impatience or recklessness. There's something darker."
Ser Rodrik nodded, respecting his lord's judgment.
"He is young. Perhaps life at Winterfell will teach him lessons he couldn't learn here."
Ned nodded, though his thoughts remained troubled. He knew the intrigues of the King's Landing court all too well to believe that environment alone would change a boy like Joffrey. But he had promised Robert to take care of his son. And he always kept his promises.
Suddenly, Cersei and Joffrey appeared in the doorway of the great gates. The queen walked with a confident step, holding her son's hand. Joffrey seemed tense, but his face bore an expression of barely contained defiance.
Cersei stopped before Ned, her gaze cold as ice.
"Lord Stark," she said in a polite but distant voice, "I entrust my son to you. Make sure he receives the treatment he deserves."
Ned inclined his head slightly.
"Prince Joffrey will be treated with the respect due to his rank, Your Grace."
His gaze then shifted to the boy. Joffrey stared at Ned with a barely concealed contempt. Ned could see the trace of Cersei in him. This child had already learned to hide his emotions behind a mask of arrogance.
"Prince Joffrey," Ned said calmly, "the North is a harsh place, but you will learn important things there. Honor is a lesson we hold in high regard."
Joffrey looked at him without flinching, then replied in a cold voice:
"I have nothing to learn from you."
Ned frowned slightly but didn't reply. He could already see how much this child was shaped by his upbringing at court. He hoped, without much conviction, that Winterfell could calm his nature. But he knew it wouldn't be easy.
At that moment, a tall, imposing man clad in the immaculate white armor of the Kingsguard made his appearance. Ser Meryn Trant stepped forward toward Joffrey and bowed respectfully.
"Prince Joffrey, I will be your personal guard for this journey to the North," he said in an emotionless voice.
Though Joffrey had a disdain for those he deemed inferior, he felt a certain pride at the thought of being accompanied by a Kingsguard knight. It showed that he was important, even if his father was sending him far from court.
"Very well, Ser Meryn," he replied in a condescending tone. "Make sure nothing happens to me."
Ser Meryn nodded impassively, while Cersei cast one last look at her son.
"Don't forget what I told you," she murmured to Joffrey, stepping forward for one final kiss on his forehead. "You are a lion. And you will come back even stronger."
Joffrey nodded, ready to mount his horse. This was just a step. One day, he would return, and he would be ready to take what was rightfully his.
From afar, heavy footsteps echoed on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Robert Baratheon, the king himself, finally approached his son. Joffrey lifted his head, hoping that this time, his father would say something, a word that would show he had pride in him. But Robert looked weary, his tired eyes hiding a certain distance.
"Father," Joffrey said, his voice almost hesitant, seeking recognition.
Robert stopped before him, looked at him for a moment, then simply nodded.
"Behave like a prince, Joffrey," he said in a dull voice. "Listen to Stark, and learn what he has to teach you."
Without another word, Robert turned and walked away, leaving Joffrey standing still. This cold departure stirred a fresh wave of resentment in the boy. He clenched his fists under his cloak, his teeth grinding. One day, he would show Robert who the real king was.
The convoy finally moved, leaving the vast walls of the Red Keep to venture onto the dusty roads leading north. Joffrey rode in silence, his face closed, but inside, his anger simmered. Ser Meryn Trant rode beside him, silent and vigilant.
Joffrey cast one last look back at the towers of King's Landing. This was just a step, a mere formality. One day, he would return, stronger than ever, and he would show everyone what it meant to be a true king.
POV: Joffrey Baratheon
The sun was high in the sky, and the heat seemed to weigh down on every movement of the convoy. Joffrey gripped his horse's reins, irritated by everything around him: the slowness of the men, the dust sticking to his skin, and the simple fact of being far from King's Landing. He already hated this journey, even though they had only been on the road for two days.
"Why are we moving so slowly?" Joffrey exclaimed loudly, breaking the silence. His disdainful tone betrayed his impatience. "My horse could gallop much faster than all these idiots."
Ser Meryn, ever stoic, remained calm beside the prince. He didn't respond immediately, aware that anything he said might trigger another tantrum from Joffrey.
"The convoy must move at a steady pace, Your Grace," Ser Meryn finally replied, his voice calm. "We can't afford to tire the horses so early in the journey."
Joffrey rolled his eyes. He hated being spoken to as if he were a child. Of course, he understood that. But it wasn't a valid excuse to bore him so much.
"Tire the horses?" he scoffed with disdain. "I am the crown prince. If I want to go faster, I will."
Without waiting for a response, he spurred his horse into a gallop, racing ahead of part of the escort. Ser Meryn, ever dutiful, immediately followed, his spurs clinking against his mount's flanks, not letting Joffrey ride alone.
POV: Ned Stark
From his position at the front of the convoy, Ned saw Joffrey dart forward like an arrow, closely followed by Ser Meryn. He let out a slight sigh, shaking his head. The child was impatient and impulsive, but Ned didn't intend to let him behave like that throughout the journey.
He gently urged his own horse forward and quickly caught up with Joffrey and Ser Meryn.
"Prince Joffrey," Ned called out in a firm but measured voice as he slowed his horse to their pace. "It's dangerous to stray from the convoy. The roads can be unpredictable."
Joffrey shot a quick glance at Ned, a mocking smile on his lips.
"Dangerous? I fear nothing, Lord Stark. These roads hold no terror for me."
"The roads aren't frightening," Ned replied calmly. "But being alone, even for a prince, can attract trouble."
Joffrey frowned, clearly annoyed by Ned's moral lesson.
"I am not alone. Ser Meryn is with me." He cast a look at his guard, who rode silently by his side.
Ned turned to Ser Meryn, who carefully avoided meeting his gaze. Ned knew Meryn would obey Joffrey no matter what, but that didn't mean he would let the prince act without control.
"The convoy moves at this pace for a reason, Prince Joffrey," Ned resumed in a more authoritative tone. "We don't want to tire the horses or take unnecessary risks. You would do well to stay with the others."
Joffrey gritted his teeth but didn't immediately respond. He knew Ned had authority over him during this journey, but that didn't mean he would obey without resistance. With an exaggerated sigh, he tugged on his horse's reins, slowing to rejoin the convoy.
"Fine," he growled. "But this journey is already boring. How much longer will we keep dragging like this?"
"We've only just begun," Ned replied patiently. "There are still several weeks of travel ahead."
Joffrey couldn't help but grimace. The idea of spending several more weeks on these roads disgusted him.
The convoy stopped in the late afternoon in a vast clearing on the edge of a forest. The guards and soldiers busied themselves setting up camp, while Ned gave Ser Rodrik instructions to ensure the site's security. Joffrey, meanwhile, watched the proceedings with a disinterested air, sitting on a tree trunk as he observed the men at work.
"Why do I have to sleep in these filthy tents?" he complained, watching the soldiers pitch his tent.
Ned, who had been discussing the preparations with Ser Rodrik, heard him and approached the young prince calmly.
"This is the reality of travel, Prince Joffrey. We're no longer in the Red Keep."
Joffrey scowled, casting a disdainful look at the soldiers hammering in the tent's stakes.
"I deserve better than this," he muttered.
Ned chose not to respond and walked away to oversee the rest of the preparations. However, he kept a close eye on Joffrey. He knew the boy wasn't used to these conditions, but it was important that he learn. This journey might be the opportunity to show him what it truly meant to be a ruler. Nothing came easy, not even for kings.
Once the camp was set, the cooks began preparing a meal for the soldiers and nobles. The smell of stew quickly filled the air, but when a bowl was brought to Joffrey, he immediately pushed it away in disgust.
"I won't eat this," he declared, crossing his arms like a stubborn child.
The soldier who had brought him the bowl froze, unsure of how to respond to this refusal. Ned, who had noticed the scene from a distance, approached, fatigue visible on his face.
"Prince Joffrey, this isn't a feast at court, but we all have to eat the same thing," he said calmly.
Joffrey looked up at Ned, his features hardened.
"I'm the crown prince. Why should I eat this peasant food?" he retorted, furious.
Ned sighed. He knew this confrontation was inevitable.
"Because it's all we have. You're no longer in King's Landing, and it's important you learn that even a king must sometimes make sacrifices."
Joffrey glared at Ned, his eyes shining with anger. But deep down, he knew he wouldn't win this argument. Slowly, he grabbed the bowl and, without another word, began eating with a grimace of disgust. He didn't appreciate this humiliation, but he knew he had to endure it for now.
After dinner, Joffrey withdrew near his tent, still in a foul mood. Ser Meryn, posted not far away, watched the camp with vigilance, but Joffrey summoned him with an imperious gesture.
"Ser Meryn," Joffrey called, irritated. "This journey is unbearable. I want you to find a way to make it more tolerable. What can these fools do to keep me from being so bored?"
Ser Meryn approached slowly, eyes lowered.
"Your Grace, perhaps we could organize a hunt tomorrow morning," he suggested, remembering that nobles enjoyed such diversions.
Joffrey nodded, satisfied with the idea.
"A hunt... Yes, that could be fun."
The prince stood up abruptly, his eyes gleaming with newfound energy. He was still just a child at that moment, and the mere thought of dominating something, even an animal, delighted him.
"Prepare everything for tomorrow morning. I want to hunt at sunrise."
Ser Meryn bowed.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Joffrey smiled, pleased to finally have a plan that could break the monotony of the journey.
POV: Ned Stark
The camp was quiet, the crackling of the campfire the only sound accompanying the slow descent of night. The soldiers had settled down, speaking in low voices or enjoying a moment of respite after a long day of riding. Ned Stark, sitting near his own tent, observed the scene with a watchful eye. Everything seemed under control, but he wasn't fooled. This calm wouldn't last.
His thoughts were still on Joffrey. The boy had already shown troubling signs of impatience and tantrums. He had reacted with anger at the convoy's slow pace, and now, he seemed to be escaping the reality of the journey by demanding a hunt. Ned didn't like the idea. The hunt would delay their already slow progress north, and every day of delay meant another day exposed to the dangers of the roads.
He stood up, signaling Ser Rodrik to join him.
"Prince Joffrey wants to organize a hunt tomorrow morning," Ned began, not hiding his displeasure. "It will delay our journey by at least half a day, maybe more."
Ser Rodrik nodded, visibly annoyed by this news. But he knew they had no choice.
"What do you intend to do, my lord?" he asked, casting a glance toward where Joffrey was resting.
Ned remained silent for a moment, weighing his options. Directly opposing Joffrey's whims might provoke even more tension, and he didn't want the journey to devolve into a constant struggle to keep the prince in check. But he also knew he needed to find a balance between authority and appeasement. For now, Joffrey remained under his responsibility.
"We have no choice. Let him hunt tomorrow. But we must ensure it's brief. The longer we delay, the more dangerous this journey becomes."
Ser Rodrik agreed, sharing Ned's concerns. They would have to navigate carefully between the necessary authority and the whims of a child used to getting whatever he wanted.
POV: Joffrey Baratheon
The next morning, Joffrey woke up with a thrill of excitement he hadn't felt since they left King's Landing. He had asked for a hunt, and he would have one. He had imagined himself since the night before, tracking a stag, perhaps even shooting a perfect arrow that would bring the animal down in one blow. He had heard his father speak proudly of his own hunts in the past, and now, it was his turn.
"Ser Meryn," Joffrey called as he emerged from his tent. The Kingsguard knight appeared quickly at his side, fully armored and ready to serve.
"Your Grace," Ser Meryn responded, his voice respectful but still cold.
"Is everything ready for the hunt? I don't want to wait."
Ser Meryn nodded, casting a glance at the guards preparing in silence.
"We have everything we need, Your Grace. The horses are ready, the bows and arrows too. There's a small forest nearby, perfect for such an activity."
Joffrey smiled, satisfied.
"Good. I want to leave as soon as possible. I have no intention of spending the whole day waiting for these fools."
Ser Meryn bowed slightly before walking away to finalize the preparations. Joffrey, impatient, could barely hide his excitement. The hunt would be the perfect distraction, something that would allow him to prove his worth, even at his age. He wanted to show Ser Meryn, Ned Stark, everyone, that he was more than just a child of the court. He was a future king.
POV: Ned Stark
Ned observed the preparations with a critical eye. He had already given instructions to limit the duration of the hunt. He didn't want it to take more time than necessary, but he knew Joffrey wouldn't easily accept being interrupted if his excitement got the better of him. As he watched the men getting ready to accompany the prince, he walked over to him.
"Prince Joffrey," he called as he approached the boy. "We'll leave soon, but I remind you that we must be back before noon."
Joffrey looked at him with annoyance.
"Why? The day is just beginning. If I decide to stay longer, why shouldn't I? It's a hunt, Lord Stark, not a forced march."
Ned frowned slightly. He didn't want a direct confrontation, but he knew he had to set limits.
"Because our priority is to continue the journey, not to linger. Every day we lose on the road brings us closer to danger."
Joffrey rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Ned's concerns.
"I see no danger here. Maybe in the North there are wolves, but here, I'm safer than you think."
Ned sighed, aware that arguing further would be useless. He couldn't force Joffrey to understand the situation, but he hoped he could at least keep the boy under control for the morning.
"Very well," he finally said. "We'll leave now. But remember, Prince Joffrey, that everything must come to an end, even a hunt."
Joffrey didn't respond, but he mounted his horse with a defiant expression. He had no intention of cutting his hunt short for such trivial reasons.
The small group set out, entering the woods to the west of the camp. Joffrey led the way, a smile on his lips. He felt invincible, surrounded by guards and soldiers ready to obey his every command. Ser Meryn remained by his side, silent but attentive to every movement of the prince. Behind them, Ned rode quietly, observing Joffrey's reactions with caution.
The forest was dense, but the dirt paths made the progress easy. Soon, they reached a clearing where traces of animals could be seen. Joffrey dismounted, gripping his bow with barely contained excitement.
"I'll kill the first animal I see," he declared proudly.
He scanned the clearing, hoping to spot a stag or a hare. But the forest was quiet, almost too quiet. The wait was starting to frustrate him. The young prince wasn't made for waiting. He was used to everything happening as he wished.
"Where are the animals?" he growled, clenching his teeth. "I thought the forest was teeming with game."
Ned, who had been observing from a distance, approached slowly.
"Hunting requires patience, Prince Joffrey. You can't always have what you want immediately."
"I don't have time to waste," Joffrey snapped, irritated by Ned's words. "I want a stag, and I want it now."
Ser Meryn, sensing the prince's agitation, approached as well.
"Your Grace, if we continue deeper into the forest, we'll have a better chance of finding game."
Joffrey clenched his fists but finally nodded. The idea of going further pleased him. He wanted to prove he was capable, that he could kill an animal and prove his worth.
"Fine," he finally said. "Let's go further. I'm not going back to camp empty-handed."
Ned sighed but said nothing. He knew Joffrey wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. They continued their progress into the woods, the air growing cooler as they ventured deeper into the dense forest.
POV: Joffrey Baratheon
The sounds of the forest were barely perceptible in the cool morning air. Joffrey walked with a confident smile, his bow firmly in hand, followed closely by Ser Meryn Trant. He already imagined himself bringing down a stag or a hare, proving to everyone that he was a great hunter. Yet, he had never truly hunted before. That detail didn't matter to him. In his mind, everything was supposed to go according to his plan.
But as time passed, reality began to catch up to him. Progress through the forest became more difficult, with branches and roots slowing their advance. Every step seemed like an obstacle, and his frustration grew.
"Why haven't I seen anything yet?!" Joffrey exclaimed, his brow furrowed. "There should be game here."
Ser Meryn remained silent, moving cautiously at his side. He knew the prince had no real experience with hunting, but he would never dare to say it. He simply followed, ready to obey any command.
"We must go deeper into the forest, Your Grace," Meryn finally suggested in a respectful tone. "The animals hide further inside."
Joffrey, already tired of the slow progress, gripped his bow tighter. He didn't want to submit to patience. He was supposed to have already killed something, like his father had so often done in his glorious stories.
"I don't want to wait any longer," he growled, casting a frustrated glance around him. "Ser Meryn, shoot something. Anything. I want to see an animal die."
Joffrey's tone revealed his immaturity. He didn't understand that hunting couldn't be done on demand, and even less that he couldn't simply command an animal to appear before him. Ser Meryn, however, knew that directly disobeying the prince's orders would complicate the situation.
"I'll try, Your Grace," Ser Meryn replied, though he didn't know if there was anything to shoot at nearby.
He took an arrow and prepared his bow, hoping that by some chance, a target might appear close enough to ease the prince's frustration. But nothing moved in the forest. Everything was still, as if nature itself mocked Joffrey's impatience.
POV: Ned Stark
From the other side of the clearing, Ned watched Joffrey. He could see the boy's patience was wearing thin, and his anger was growing as his expectations went unmet. The prince held his bow awkwardly, as if hoping it would do all the work for him. Ned thought of Robb at that age. He had taught his son the patience required in hunting, but more importantly, humility. Joffrey, on the other hand, seemed to ignore these lessons entirely.
Ned approached quietly, stopping a few steps behind Ser Meryn and Joffrey.
"Hunting doesn't happen on command, Prince Joffrey," Ned said, trying to moderate his tone to avoid provoking the child. "You must learn to wait, to observe."
Joffrey spun around toward Ned, his cheeks flushed with frustration.
"I know how to wait!" he shouted. "But I'm not here to waste my time. If I'm the prince, why can't anyone make an animal appear in front of me?"
Ned sighed inwardly. Joffrey was still just a child, but his perception of power, shaped by court life and Cersei's influence, was already deeply ingrained. The young prince believed that everything should bend to his will, as if even nature were under his control.
"Even a king must sometimes bow to the laws of nature," Ned responded calmly. "Hunting is an art, not an order."
Joffrey frowned but didn't reply. He hated hearing about limitations, especially from Ned Stark, whom he silently despised.
As they ventured further into the forest, a hare suddenly darted out from a bush. Joffrey, surprised but excited, clumsily raised his bow and tried to shoot an arrow. However, he lacked both the strength and precision to aim correctly. The arrow flew far off the mark, embedding itself into a tree several meters away.
Furious, Joffrey threw his bow to the ground with a cry of frustration.
"This is stupid!" he shouted. "I don't need this stupid weapon!"
Ser Meryn quickly approached to pick up the bow.
"Your Grace, it takes time to learn how to hunt. It's not easy, even for a prince."
But Joffrey didn't want to hear any of it. His anger surged, and the humiliation of having missed such an easy shot was unbearable. He felt ridiculous, incapable. The fact that he hadn't succeeded in proving his worth deeply irritated him.
"It's useless!" he growled again, ignoring Meryn's attempts to calm him.
Seeing the situation becoming untenable, Ned stepped in closer.
"Prince Joffrey," he said with authority. "It's time to return. The hunt is over."
Joffrey spun around toward Ned, his eyes blazing with fury.
"No!" he screamed. "I won't go back until I've killed something!"
Ned felt the tension rise. He knew he had to maintain control of the situation, but Joffrey wasn't ready to listen to reason.
"We've delayed long enough," Ned said in a firm tone. "Your safety and that of the convoy are paramount. We must move forward."
Joffrey's expression darkened, but he knew he couldn't win this battle for now. He stood still for a moment, fists clenched, before finally giving in, not without throwing one last dark glare at Ned.
"Fine," he growled, "but you'll pay for this."
He mounted his horse, his jaw tight, while the rest of the group prepared to return to camp. His pride had been wounded, and he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.
The return to the camp was marked by a heavy silence. Joffrey, at the front, continued to brood over his anger, while Ned and Ser Meryn followed behind, exchanging glances. The tension emanating from Joffrey was palpable, and Ned knew this was only the beginning. This child was used to getting whatever he wanted. Imposing limits on him would only deepen his contempt.
Upon their arrival at camp, Joffrey dismounted from his horse and stormed into his tent without a word, ignoring the soldiers and guards. The hunt hadn't brought him the satisfaction he had hoped for, and that made him even more irritable.
Ser Meryn, who hadn't spoken a word since their return, approached Ned.
"Your Grace is displeased," he said in a neutral tone, watching the tent where Joffrey had disappeared.
"He'll have to get used to it," Ned responded calmly. "The road to the North is long, and not everything will go as he wishes."
Ser Meryn nodded but said nothing more. He knew Ned Stark was right, but he also knew that Joffrey wouldn't give in easily.