The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 26: Flocked and Flogged
In the days that passed after Joffrey's meeting with the pirates and their successful "mission," his Vice-Commander, Jacelyn, informed him that the selection process for the Royal Guard was complete and preparations for the graduation ceremony were finished. As Joffrey prepared to make his way to the training grounds, an unexpected knock came to his door.
*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
"Yes, what is it?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance.
"It's Lord Varys, Your Grace," Ser Meryn Trant, one of his Kingsguard, replied. "He wishes to speak with you."
"Oh?"
With his curiosity piqued, Joffrey set down his brocade cloak and ordered the man to be let in. Varys entered, surprised to see the king in full dress.
"Going somewhere, Your Grace?"
"Just a leisurely night stroll," he replied immediately. "I rather enjoy the silence of the castle walls at night."
"Do you?" Varys asked, his voice soft.
"Perhaps, or perhaps not." Joffrey shrugged. "But my question to you is why have you come to me at such an ungodly hour? Have you finally completed the assignment I gave you?"
"Indeed." The eunuch slowly reached inside his velvet robe and revealed a rolled-up scroll.
"Excellent! I knew I could count on you!" Joffrey approached, his hand outstretched for the parchment, but to his surprise, Varys pulled it back.
"Before I give this to you, Your Grace, could we sit and have a talk?"
"...Alright." Joffrey gestured to the seat in front of his desk.
The two men took their seats and stared at one another in silence, each trying to decipher the other's intentions. Seeing the spider was testing him, Joffrey decided to speak first.
"You know something, Varys," he said, getting the man's attention as he poured him a glass of wine. "I've always admired you."
"Oh? Is that so, Your Grace?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I mean, you're a man who came from nothing. No lands or powerful name to aid you, and yet you managed to go from the gutters of some village all the way across the sea and into a king's council chamber. It's all rather impressive, I must say."
"You're too kind, Your Grace," Varys said, bowing his head at the compliment.
"Your tale must be a rather interesting one."
"I suppose you could say that, though it's a rather long one, I'm afraid."
"And one you don't like telling people you don't trust."
Varys's face subtly twitched at the King's words, but not subtly enough that Joffrey did not catch it.
"Oh, so you're saying you don't trust me, my Master of Whispers?"
"Of course not, Your Grace, I would never think—"
Joffrey cut him off as he took command of the conversation. "No, no, don't misunderstand. I get it." He waved his hand dismissively and sipped from his cup. "I mean, I've done nothing to earn your trust or loyalty. After my years-long act of playing the spoiled, sadistic prince who lazed about as the realm suffered, it's completely understandable."
Varys remained silent as he listened to the King's words.
"Yes, I played my part well." He took a long sip from his glass. "Just like you."
At the young King's words, the spider's body shifted, and he sat up straighter in his chair.
"Yes, and I have to say it was one hell of a performance. You even almost had me fooled a few times," he laughed lightly. "But no, I know for a fact that your loyalty does not lie with me."
Varys's posture continued to tense as his face lost all shred of his usual coyness.
"The truth is, you don't serve any great house, or king, or even yourself. No, your loyalty lies with something more precious than any of that. It lies with the smallfolk that you rose up from. Just like me."
"What do you mean?" Varys asked, his voice serious and devoid of any coyness the members of the Small Council had grown used to.
"I mean you and I share a common belief, my friend," Joffrey continued. "That it is not a king's right to rule but his duty. A duty to protect and serve the interests of his people. A duty to stomp out corruption and use what little time we actually have in the world to make it a little less shitty before we're gone. A duty my father failed miserably at."
The spider's eyes widened as he heard the King's words, which almost any other man would find completely ludicrous. Seeing Varys was starting to lower his walls, the King continued.
"You and I are cut from the same cloth, Lord Varys, and I need your help if I'm going to achieve my dream."
"And what pray tell is this dream of yours, Your Grace?"
"A better world," Joffrey responded, a wide, confident grin spreading across his face as he stood and spread his arms wide. "A world where a man's worth isn't measured by his name or blood, but by the merits of his work and the sweat on his brow. A world devoid of classist mindsets that see the poor suffer and starve while the rich feast and thrive. A world where the powerful do not prey upon the helpless with impunity, and you, my Master of Whispers, are the only one who can help me bring about this new world."
Varys was struck by the King's words and the sheer passion with which they were spoken. The spider couldn't help but feel as though he was being drawn in by the King's passion like a moth to a flame. His words stirred something inside of him he hadn't felt since he ate in alleyways as a boy.
"So what will it be, Lord Varys?" Joffrey asked, looking down at the still-seated bald man. "Will you stand beside me and help me bring about this new world?"
"H-how?" was all Varys could manage to stutter out.
"Well, first I need the list of names your little birds have acquired for you." He opened his hand to Varys.
The spider still seemed somewhat conflicted, but ultimately decided to put his trust in the passionate young King. So with slow, careful movements, he took the scroll and gently placed it in the King's outstretched hand. Slowly, Joffrey unrolled the paper and began to read the list of names. Most were those he had already suspected, though there were several that caught him by surprise. There were also a few particular names that made him smile, since he knew they weren't disloyal, and in fact only owed the Crown quite a bit of money.
"So you're still testing me huh?" he thought as he narrowed his eyes at the spider. "Well, not that it matters. They're of no consequence."
"Thank you, Lord Varys," he said, smiling and even patting the man's shoulder.
"So what now, Your Grace?"
"Come with me," he smiled, draping his Shadowcat Brocade cloak onto his shoulders before making his way to the wall.
"Where are we going, Your Grace?" the spider asked as he followed behind the King.
"To show you the first step towards a new world," he replied without looking back before he reached out and grabbed the wall-mounted candlestick and pulled it towards himself.
Suddenly, the hidden door in the wall opened, revealing the hidden passageway he frequently used.
"Follow me," he said before lighting a torch.
o-O-o
In the dead of night, the light of torches could be seen coming from the King's Landing Tourney Grounds. The large, stadium-sized grounds had been remodeled and transformed into the Training Grounds for the King's newly established army, the Royal Guard. As the King, accompanied by his Master of Whispers, made their way into the Royal Box, they were greeted by the sight of two thousand bare-chested men standing at attention in ten single-file lines. Their expressions were serious and stoic, without a hint of emotion.
Their once-thin, malnourished bodies had been transformed into lean, muscular physiques, thanks to the 21st-century strength and conditioning regimen they'd been subjected to. The once-starving mutts of Flea Bottom had been honed into vicious bloodhounds ready to tear out their enemies' throats without a second thought. As they continued to stand at attention, the cool night air prickled their skin, and their breaths became visible.
Joffrey slowly made his way down from the upper stage. As he walked down the stairs, he was flanked on his right by his Vice-Commander, Jacelyn, his second in command. To his left walked a rather bewildered Varys, whose face was filled with confusion. Everyone in the castle had heard about the King's recruitment program. In fact, most of the castle, both servants and lords alike, found the notion of professional commoner soldiers hilarious and had even begun calling him the King of Flea Bottom behind his back.
But as Varys gazed upon the well-organized and disciplined young men, he couldn't find anything particularly funny about it.
"How could he have accomplished this in just two months?" he wondered to himself, looking back and forth between the King and his men.
As the three stepped onto the grounds, one of Joffrey's drill instructors shouted out, "Commander on the floor!"
As one, the men all stomped their right feet and stood at attention. Joffrey didn't speak a word, just slowly made his way over to the lines of men and began to walk back and forth in front of them as he had done when they first arrived. This time, however, the recruits didn't react; they just continued to stare forward, unflinching, as their King passed by. A small smile grew on his face as he looked into the men's eyes, which revealed the caged beasts that lay within. Stopping at the center of the men, Joffrey finally spoke.
"I told you men when you first came here that you were and have been nothing but worthless piles of dirt. That your existence was worth as much as a dried-out cow pie on the side of the road. That you were lower than trash."
As he spoke, the men remained impassive to the remarks.
"And it has been true, none of you were any different than the horse shit I scraped off my boots," he said slowly, his voice calm but stern. "Until now."
Every recruit and even Varys perked up upon hearing his words.
"I also told you that you would have the chance to become part of something much greater than yourselves. That if you survived selection, you would become a part of a family and have a place to call home until the day you die. Well, congratulations, mongrels, that day is today." He spoke slowly, letting the men soak in his words. "The day where you forsake your old lives and cast off the shackles of your past has come. Welcome, my brothers, welcome to the Royal Guard!"
The men all began to pound their fists against their chests in unison, slowly imitating the sound of drums. The sound grew louder and louder, filling the night air. Joffrey then raised his hand for silence.
"From this day to your last day, you all are an extension of the Crown. You are the King's Sabers, my sabers. A sword meant to purge the realm of darkness! A shield to guard and protect the weak and innocent! From this day until your last day, you become a part of something greater than yourselves! A better world!"
The men once again began to beat their chests, and again Joffrey ordered silence. The King then gestured to two of his instructors, who proceeded to step forward carrying a burning brazier. One slowly reached inside and pulled out a red-hot metal brand and carefully handed it to the King.
"Unfortunately, the cleansing of one's former identity is one that can only be achieved by fire."
He then gestured for the man in front of him to step forward. The young recruit immediately complied and stepped forward until he was right in front of the King. The young man's face was a mask of impassiveness, not revealing a hint of emotion even as the King gestured for him to kneel. Slowly, Joffrey made his way over to the kneeling young man and slowly raised the red-hot brand before pressing it into the man's left pec. The sound and smell of searing flesh could be heard, but not a single soul made a sound.
"Embrace the pain, for it is your soul finally being unburdened," he said to the young recruit, whose face twitched from the intense pain, yet he refused to scream.
Joffrey pulled the metal away, revealing the seven-pointed crown that was now seared into the man's chest. The man still winced in pain as the King opened his arms, inviting the young man to embrace him with a loving smile on his face, as if he was reuniting with a lifelong friend.
"Welcome home, brother," he said, smiling from ear to ear.
The recruit was moved to tears before he quickly stood to his feet and embraced the King. Joffrey held him tightly against his chest as he calmly ran his fingers through the man's hair. The man stepped back, tears still streaming down his eyes that were now filled with admiration and fanaticism. The King carefully handed the still-hot brand to the man and nodded his head at the new Royal Guard, who immediately understood. He then turned and gestured for the recruit who had been standing behind him in line to step forward. The new Royal Guard repeated the process and immediately embraced his new brother before handing him the brand next.
Joffrey and Jacelyn watched on with proud smiles as the instructors stepped forward with other red-hot brands and began the same process with the other lines of recruits.
"Have the men suited up and ready to move at dawn," Joffrey ordered as he turned to his Vice-Commander.
"Of course, Your Grace." He saluted. "Has the time finally come?"
"Yes," he confirmed as men from his industrial sector delivered the equipment he had ordered. "The time to cleanse our city has finally come."
Jacelyn's face grew a wide grin that mirrored Joffrey's, while Varys continued to stand by, completely bewildered.
"He formed his own military that answers only to him," Varys thought to himself as he continued to watch the King and his new Royal Guard. "How brilliant! Perhaps you're the one after all."
o-O-o
The following morning, as the sun just started to rise, Joffrey called an emergency Small Council meeting. He was sitting at the head of the table with both Varys and Ser Barristan by his side. Soon the others began to slowly file in: first Lark, then Pycelle, followed by Janos Slynt, then Littlefinger, and finally the Dowager Queen herself, Cersei. As they made their way to their individual seats, the King and the others stood up to greet them.
"Good morning everyone and thank you for arriving here so quickly." He said politely with a charming smile.
"Good morning, Your Grace." Many of them said back tiredly, some even yawning.
"Joffrey dear, why have you called us here at such an uncommon hour?" She asked, slightly drowsy.
"I apologize for such an early call, but I'm afraid this meeting could not wait."
"What exactly is the emergency, Your Grace?" the Grand Maester asked while many looked curious as well.
"Well, Grand Maester, I've just learned some rather distressing news." He said as he slowly took his seat along with the others. "I've just learned of a treacherous plot to have me deposed from my throne."
He spoke slowly, watching each of the members' individual reactions. Barristan, Lark, Pycelle, and even Cersei looked shocked and alarmed. While Janos and Littlefinger shared a glance before feigning outrage.
"Who?!" his mother screamed. "Who would plot such a thing?!"
"Your Grace, are you sure?" Barristan asked with clear concern.
"Well this cannot be allowed to stand." Pycelle mumbled.
"I know most of you must be shocked, but there is no need to worry." The King spoke in a calm, reassuring voice.
"How's that,your grace?" Lark asked, confused.
"Because, Lord Lark, I've already uncovered the identities of the masterminds."
Littlefinger didn't know why but hearing those words come out of the king's mouth sent a shiver up his spine. Unease slowly began to wrap itself around him, like a snake coils around its prey.
"Where are they?!" His mother demanded as she practically spit venom. "I'll have my guards carve their eyes from their skulls."
"Now, mother, it's not just them but all of their accomplices as well." He said as he slowly locked eyes with Petyr Baelish and his pet rat.
"If you know all of that already then why are we wasting our time with a meeting?! We need to seize them and their families before they slip through our fingers!"
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that." He smiled as Baelish gulped.
"Why not, Your Grace?" He asked.
"Because they're here in this room." He said before the doors of the Small Council Chamber flung open, and in marched several members of his Royal Guard, each wearing the new black spring steel armor they had received earlier that morning. They were gray-black sets of armor with a golden seven-pointed crown symbol at the center of their breastplate. Their matching helmets were crafted in the style of the Greek Corinthian helmet which offered full-face protection while simultaneously offering better visibility than a knight's helmet.
In their left hands they carried a medium sized heater shield with plating matching their armor and helmets, while in their rights they carried Dory spears that were roughly 2-3 meters in length. At their hips they wore both a short arming sword with a parazonium-style dagger that served as the symbol of being a full-fledged Royal Guard. Overall their weapons and equipment offered Joffrey's men far greater mobility, protection, and offense than the Churnburg styled armor most knights in their era wore.
At the king's command the men moved forward, taking the different traitors into custody.
"Your Grace! What is the meaning of this?!" Littlefinger screamed as his men took hold of him.
Then two more moved toward Janos Slynt, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.
"What do you think you're doing?! Get your fucking hands off of me!" The little worm screamed.
Then the last two made their way to the dowager queen.
"What?! How dare you! Get your filthy hands away from me! I am the queen!" She screamed as they seized her by her arms.
Joffrey watched as the three struggled against his men, his kind smile replaced with a cold icy glare.
"Joffrey, tell them to stop this instant!" She screamed.
The king ignored his mother and her wailing.
"Take my mother to her chambers and keep her there under guard, no one is permitted to see her but me." The men banged their breastplates with their right hands before dragging the dowager queen out of the chamber.
"Have you lost your minds?! I am the queen! I am the queen!" She continued to yell as she was dragged from the chamber.
Joffrey then turned his attention to the snake and his pet.
"Escort Lord Baelish and Lord Slynt down to the black cells, and have them prepared for some sharp interrogation." He spoke calmly to the still struggling men.
"You can not do this!" Janos screamed. "My men will rebel for this!"
Joffrey immediately made his way over to the screaming worm, seizing him by the face and pulled him towards him.
"Your men are either dead or dying and any that remain will be joining you two shortly." He replied, his face inches from the pink little man unfazed by his threats.
The pair wore stunned expressions upon hearing the king's words. As they started to get dragged away Littlefinger cried out.
"Your grace, tell me why?! Why are you doing all of this?!"
"Because I have tolerated corruption for long enough. Because I've grown tired watching vipers slither through my halls with their heads held high. All of that ends today. Now take them away."
"No! NO!" They both continued to shout as they were forcibly dragged from the chamber.
Joffrey then slowly made his way back over to his seat and began looking over the files that he had prepared for that morning's meeting, while the rest of the council members with the exception of Varys still stood by with stunned expressions.
"What the fuck are all of you staring at?" He asked, annoyed by the stunned expressions. "Sit down, we've got work to do."
The three men looked at each other for a moment before slowly making their way back to their seats. The five men continued to go over different proposals as well as logistics for several hours.
o-O-o
At the same time the Small Council members were being arrested, death was unfolding in the streets below. The King's Sabers, fully armed and armored, were making their way through the city streets. They moved swiftly and quickly, killing armed Gold Cloaks with impunity throughout the city. After finishing off those on duty, they made their way to their homes and brothels, dragging them still in their night clothes out into the street before beating them unconscious. Those that surrendered peacefully were taken in without any incident. Those that offered resistance of any kind were dealt with quickly.
Soon the streets ran red with the Gold Cloaks' blood.
Though they didn't stop there. Once they were finished dispatching and arresting the City Watch, they made their way to several noble's villas. After making quick work of the household guards, they took several lords into custody. Beaten and bound, they were all connected by new types of irons and were led back to the Red Keep in a chain gang. Making their way into the Throne Room the noblemen were greeted by the sight of the king leaning back into his throne.
His five remaining Kingsguard were all assembled below the base of the throne itself, while the dais was guarded by the same black armored soldiers that had taken them captive. As they arrived before the platform the guard that had been leading them yanked on the chain forcing all of them to their knees.
Slowly each man gazed up toward the king who was adorned in a black doublet with gold trim and matching pair of trousers. His golden blonde hair was worn loose and seamlessly flowed down to his neck in small waves. Atop his head he no longer wore his father's crown of antlers and topaz, but a simple gilded steel circlet with square-cut rubies embedded in it. It was meant to emulate Aegon the Conqueror's Valyrian steel crown.
As they gazed upon the king they noticed his expression was anything but the soft and naive one they'd come to know and despise. His face was cold and stern as he leaned against his left fist. Growing tired of the prolonged silence one of the Crownlands nobles attempted to speak.
"Your grace, what is the meaning of-"
But before he could finish he was silenced by a solid kick to the ribs by one of the Royal Guards.
"You're not to speak without the king's permission," The guard said sternly to the old man.
The rest of the men quivered in fear as their sleepwear began to smell of piss and shit. Never before in their lives had they been treated in such a manner.
"Do you know why you all are here?" The king asked slowly, his tone as cold as the wall.
"Your grace, we don't-" The same old man tried to answer but was once again rewarded with a kick to the ribs.
"His grace asked you a question." He said sternly to the noble who sprawled out on the Throne Room floor wheezing in pain.
Joffrey slowly raised his hand ordering the guard to stand down, which he promptly did when he banged his breastplate and took a step back.
"I apologize for my Royal Guard's behavior, they mean well, but they're still new and clearly in need of further discipline." He narrowed his eyes at the guard who bowed his head in turn. "Now again please tell me why you think you're here?" He asked as he sat up straighter on his throne.
"We have no idea, your grace." One bald one commented.
"Indeed I don't know either." Protested another.
They all began to voice their confusion and dissatisfaction growing louder and louder by the second, until Joffrey slammed his fist against his throne's armrest.
"Silence!" He screamed his voice echoing throughout the great hall.
All of the chained men felt a shiver run down their spines as they stared into the king's hollow green eyes.
"I've become aware of a conspiracy against me," he said slowly, his words barely hiding the cold fury that lay just beneath the surface. "A conspiracy that would see me deposed from my throne and me and my family's heads decorating some nice pointed spikes."
Most of the men gulped loudly hearing the king's words, while a few others looked around confused.
"Conspiracy? What conspiracy?" They thought.
"And I know that each one of you has played a part in this plot." He continued.
"That is ridiculous, your grace, I would never conspire against you." One immediately defended.
"Me either, my family has shown the crown nothing but loyalty." Said another.
This carried on for some time, each man proclaiming their innocence. The king then raised his hand silencing the squawking hens dressed as men.
"Enough with your lies, Lord Petyr Baelish has already told me the truth."
All of the men became shocked into silence hearing his words.
"He told me how you all began to approach him after I began my reforms and created the bread lines for my citizens which I made you help pay for. Of how you came flocking to him with plans to have me set aside in favor of one of my uncles."
He paused letting his words fill the sweating men with fear and panic.
"That fucking snake this was his idea," One thought with outrage.
"That fucking bean counter he tricked me!" Thought another.
"I don't know what's happening. I don't have anything to do with this!"
The others were all thinking rather colorful words to describe the Master of Coin.
"After everything my family has given you this is how you repay us?" Joffrey asked, offended. "I believed you all to be my faithful subjects, but now I can see you all think of me as nothing but a fool who'd be too stupid to see you for your treachery. Even now you continue to lie and spit in my face."
"Your grace, it was these men who conspired against you!" One of them immediately shouted pointing at the others. "I was always loyal to you, I was simply working from the inside!"
"No it was me, your grace! These men are nothing but filthy traitors!"
"No! It was I-"
This carried on for a few minutes as each of the nobles began to turn on each other. Professing their own innocence while condemning the others as traitors. Finally the king grew tired of all the static.
"Enough!" He shouted once again, silencing the hall. "I have heard enough lies for one afternoon, Ser Moore and Ser Oakheart."
"Yes, your grace." Two of his kingsguard awaited his command.
"Escort the traitors into the Black Cells, make sure they are housed separately, and kept alive."
The two men bowed their heads before stepping forward and seizing the old men by the chains connected to their collars. Joffrey watched with slight satisfaction as the traitors were practically dragged out of his sight like disobedient dogs on leashes. They continued to scream and shout as they were escorted out of the Throne Room and to their new quarters. Once the hall was empty Joffrey stood up and made his way down the metal steps of the throne.
After making it all the way down, Ser Barristan slowly approached him on his left.
"Was all of this really necessary, your grace?" He asked, still slightly confused by the whole display. "You already knew they were guilty so why bother with all the theater?"
Joffrey slowly looked into his combat instructor's eyes.
"I needed to hear the truth from their own lips, Ser Barristan." He said in a kind and calm voice. "Information is important, but information can be manipulated." He flashed a glance to the Master of Whispers that was attempting to go unnoticed behind one of the stone pillars.
"What do you plan to do with them now, your grace?"
"Those men broke their oaths of fealty that they swore when they recognized me as their king." His tone slowly became colder. "What do you think should become of oath breakers my loyal knight?"
"Death," he responded immediately, his tone carrying an unfamiliar anger to it.
"Correct," he responded as he grasped the knight's pauldron. "But this also presents us with an opportunity."
"An opportunity? What opportunity?"
"To make an example," his face broke into a wicked grin that reached from ear to ear.
Ser Barristan just looked confused as the king continued to smile to himself.
o-O-o
Petyr Baelish stood bloodied and beaten, his wrists chained to the wall forcing him to stand. True to its name the cell was pitch black, the darkness so deep he couldn't see five inches from his face. The only thing he could do was stand there and listen to the slow dripping of water hitting his cell's floor. Well that and think about his current "predicament."
"How?! How could this have happened!" He screamed internally. "Where?! Where did I go wrong?!"
Just then the sounds of footsteps began to echo in the distance. Slowly they grew louder and louder as they approached until they stopped just outside his cell's door. Suddenly the door slowly opened and the light of a torch illuminated the dark cell. As the visitor placed the torch on the wall, Littlefinger's eyes finally adjusted to the light allowing him to make out who had come to pay him a visit.
And to his utter shock and confusion his visitor turned out to be none other than the young king himself.
"Hello Lord Baelish," he said with a smirk as he dusted off a wooden stool and placed it a few feet from him. "I think it's time we had a little chat."
High and welcome to my first official story. Since I'm new I'd appreciate some praise and a little interaction, just trying to get to know my audience you know. Anyway with that in mind I'd appreciate you taking the time to leave a review and some critique, and I'll do my best to read them.
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The Current Stories available are:
~The Young Lion Act 2 Ch 5
~Highschool DxD: The Cursed King of Kuoh Ch 5