The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 7: Attack at the Crossroads
The royal entourage slowly made its way out of Winter Town, the column of soldiers now a mix of Northern men-at-arms who assembled around their liege lord and his family. Joffrey, the prince, rode a short distance behind the royal stagecoach which contained his mother and siblings. As they rode, Joffrey's jaw was tight, his gaze flicking nervously between the passing trees. The whispered words from the Godswood echoed in his thoughts, a persistent chill that no amount of sunlight could dispel.
"Never forget."
Those words never stopped echoing inside his head. Not even when he was later chastised by the king for delaying their departure by over an hour. The prince merely bowed his head and offered what apology he could before Robert finally dropped the matter. The escort continued onward until it reached a fork in the road marked by a small stone pile.
It was there that some of the riders split from the main group, taking the road to the Wall. Joffrey decided to hang back as the rest of the Lannister soldiers continued their path south, wishing to have parting words with a new friend. As Joffrey steadied his mount at the stone pillar, he watched as his uncle followed behind Benjen Stark, surrounded by his new Lannister escort as well as one of the Kingsguard, Ser Boros Blount. The Kingsguard knight had been personally ordered by the crown prince himself to accompany the dwarf to the Wall and ensure his safety.
The prince remembered the annoying knight's protests when he had personally given him the command.
[Flashback]
It was only a few hours prior, before their departure, that Joffrey had approached the silver knight alongside his sworn shield. As he made his way over to the man who held the sacred duty of protecting the royal family, Joffrey couldn't help but be underwhelmed by the man's appearance.
The Kingsguard knight, a man in his mid-thirties with a broad chest perched atop surprisingly short, bandy legs, was not a figure to inspire awe. His scalp gleamed under the morning sun where hair had long since retreated, and his features were blunt – a flat nose and heavy jowls. A noticeable bulge strained the leather of his breeches, hinting at a life less devoted to the training yard than the feast table.
As the prince and the hound approached, the stout knight straightened his back and stood at attention.
"My prince," he said, taking a deep bow that caused his belly to jiggle.
"Good morning, Ser Boros. How fare you on this fine day?" Joffrey asked in a polite tone.
"I am well, Your Grace, gods be good." He replied.
"That is good to hear, for you see, there is something I would like you to do for me."
The knight looked confused upon hearing the prince's words.
"What would that be, my prince?"
"As you may or may not know, my uncle intends to travel to the Wall. These are rather perilous lands, so I would like you to accompany him and ensure he remains safe."
At Joffrey's words, the stout knight's face became filled with shock. His eyes darted around the courtyard, looking in every direction except Joffrey's, as if he was trying to find the right words to say.
"My prince," Ser Boros stammered, his eyes darting towards Sandor. "It is not my wish to seem defiant, but my oath is to the King and the safety of the royal family here. To leave your side…"
Joffrey's polite facade dropped, his expression hardening.
"I think you misunderstand me, good Ser. That was a command, not an offer. Pack some extra furs and food, bid farewell to your brothers, and accompany my uncle to the Wall."
Ser Boros bit his lower lip, clear frustration brewing inside his head that he knew he couldn't voice. As he mentally searched for a way out of his predicament, his features shifted continuously. Seeing the knight's continued defiance, Joffrey looked up toward his sworn shield, who had remained silent until that point.
"Sandor, it appears to me that one of the Kingsguard is refusing a royal command. Remind me again what the punishment in the Capital for such an offense?"
"Beheading, my prince," Sandor said coolly, his gaze fixed on the short, stout man, his hand slowly reaching up and gripping the hilt of the longsword at his hip. Seeing the gesture, sweat began to bead on the knight's brow before he quickly took another bow, bending deeply at the waist.
"Of course not, my prince!" he exclaimed. "If it is your command, I shall gladly follow it."
"Good!" Joffrey beamed, smiling once again. "That is what I thought. I leave my uncle's safety in your very capable hands."
Ser Boros let out a heavy sigh of relief after seemingly staring death in the face. Joffrey turned and was about to leave when he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Oh, and one more thing, Ser Boros," he said coolly, getting the knight's attention.
"Yes, my prince?"
"If my uncle doesn't make it back safely, neither will you. Do you understand?"
Gulp
"Yes, my prince."
Joffrey didn't say another word as he walked away with Sandor in tow. After walking some distance away from any prying eyes, Sandor spoke up.
"You mind telling me what that was all about, my prince?"
"Don't concern yourself with the details, Sandor," Joffrey waved off as they kept walking. "I'm just making sure my uncle's got some extra protection in these hazardous times. Who better than a Kingsguard?"
"Plenty, at least compared to that craven piece of trash."
"True," Joffrey thought to himself. "But that's kinda the point."
Though he just remained silent as they continued their way through the Castle's grounds.
[Flashback End]
Joffrey could only watch as the stout Kingsguard rode behind Tyrion's horse with a deep scowl etched on his face. He turned and saw both Jon and his "father" sharing one last farewell. Whatever words passed between them ended before Joffrey could get within earshot, and as his horse trotted toward them, Lord Stark spurred his mount, kicking its sides to catch up with the King's men.
His horse flew by Joffrey, who continued to slowly lead it to the now alone bastard, who sat at the fork in the road as if he were contemplating all of his choices. Seeing the approaching prince, a slow smile grew on the young man's face. Joffrey stopped his horse right next to the northerner, returning his smile.
"My prince," Jon bowed his head.
"Lord Snow," Joffrey repeated the gesture.
"So, off to the Wall, eh?"
"Yes, my pr-"
"Jon, like I told your brother, you can call me by my name when we're alone."
"Of course, my pr- Joffrey."
The prince just chuckled at his slip of tongue.
"I just wanted to say farewell and wish you good health at the Wall."
"Thank you, Joffrey. I'm happy that I was able to meet you before I left. These past few weeks have been some of the happiest I've had at that castle."
"I'm glad to hear it," Joffrey nodded.
"Not sure it made Lady Stark very happy," Jon added with a slightly downcast expression.
"Well, Jon, there are a few benefits to being the crown prince. One of them being able to disregard what Lady Stark likes or doesn't like, or what makes her happy, or unhappy."
Jon's face broke into a smile hearing his words, and he chuckled softly.
"I suppose you're right," he said, still chuckling. "So, where do you go now?"
"Back to the Capital and helping your father keep mine from running the kingdoms into the ground."
"That sounds like it's going to be quite the challenge."
"Eh," Joffrey shrugged. "It's one of the prices of the Crown."
The pair sat there on their mounts, not speaking, as they looked at one another. Slowly, Jon raised his right arm to Joffrey. The prince, seeing the gesture, raised his own and the pair clasped forearms.
"Goodbye, my prince. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."
"Same to you, Lord Snow. I promise you we'll meet again."
Both men gave each other one last smile before turning their horses and riding in opposite directions. Jon rode his black steed north, catching up with his uncle and Joffrey's. While the prince rode south, catching up with his father's soldiers with a content smile growing on his face. After all, he had managed to accomplish his main goals since he arrived – not only forming a better relationship with the future Warden of the North, but with the secret dragon prince as well.
"Everything is going well so far," he thought as he arrived beside the rest of the royal progress, eventually finding his way back to his mother's stagecoach.
[Timeskip]
Two weeks had passed, and the royal progress had finally reached the Trident. While the royal family was staying at Castle Darry, the rest of the entourage were resting at and near the Crossroads Inn. They would have gotten back to the Capital by this point if the king hadn't been insistent on visiting every spot where he fought a battle during the last two wars, much to the queen's and frankly everyone else's annoyance.
Currently, the king and his new hand were off in the countryside enjoying a private meal away from everyone else, with only their personal guard keeping them company. The queen had decided to remain with her ladies-in-waiting in the relative comforts of the inn.
The prince, however, had grown tired of riding and wanted to stretch his legs. So, after dressing in a more modest crimson doublet and black leather breeches, he went out for a stroll. As he walked down the dirt road, both the Lannister and Baratheon soldiers would stop to bow their heads. He would occasionally offer a brief wave, but overall, he found all the bowing and scraping made him feel a little uncomfortable.
"Why can't they just salute or something?" he wondered to himself.
As he continued to walk, he spotted his little brother surrounded by noble dames. Normally, this might have been a cause for concern, but Tommen was too young to be aware of the opposite sex yet, and currently, all of his attention was focused on playing with his new pet fawn that Joffrey had given him.
He still remembered Tommen's eyes when he first presented the gift, wide and terrified as if this was just some sadistic joke. A pang of something akin to guilt, unfamiliar and unwelcome, tightened his chest. It was only after their mother had convinced Tommen that Joffrey was being sincere and trying to make amends for his past actions that he finally accepted the fawn. Since then, the pair had been inseparable, and the prince was sure the boy would have slept with it in the stalls if their mother hadn't intervened.
Watching the young boy happily feed the baby deer milk and stroke its head warmed Joffrey's heart, happy that he had taken the first step in repairing some his familial relationships. Joffrey continued down the road and eventually found the person he was most anxious to spend time with.
Sansa Stark, his future wife and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had her back to him and was in the middle of a discussion with his sworn shield.
"He hasn't been very talkative these last twenty years, not since the Mad King had his tongue cut out with a hot knife."
Sansa's breath hitched, her blue eyes widening as she clutched her hands tightly in her lap. Joffrey cut in.
"Yes, well, it's not his conversational skills we require, only his blade."
He added, making Sansa turn around to face him.
"His name is Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's Justice. The royal executioner."
A radiant smile bloomed on Sansa's face as she saw Joffrey, her eyes sparkling with a joy that warmed his chest despite himself. Sandor took a step back and bowed his head slightly. Joffrey gave the young girl a kind smile, making her cheeks flush a delicate rose. Seeing her up close, he had to admit that she was quite adorable and, if her mother was anything to go by, would one day grow into a world-class beauty. Unfortunately, she was fourteen years old, and Joffrey had the mind of a twenty-eight-year-old man from the twenty-first century.
So, it went without saying he had no intentions of performing his "duty" anytime soon.
Upon hearing his words, the young girl fidgeted in place and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Seeing the bashful girl's plight, the prince reached down and gently cupped her chin, tilting her face up so she met his eyes.
"What is it, my lady? Have I wronged you in some way?"
"No, no, my prince," she frantically corrected him. "I-"
But before she could finish, the prince interrupted her.
"It's okay, my lady. I was only joking," he said with a teasing tone.
Sansa gave him a cute pout, making him chuckle softly. Sandor merely rolled his eyes at the youthful interaction. Joffrey then addressed the half-burnt giant.
"I think you can leave us now, Sandor. I'd like some time alone with my lady."
Sandor bowed his head and immediately complied, leaving the two young teens alone. Now alone, the situation became incredibly awkward, at least for Joffrey. Truthfully, he didn't have any real experience in romance or wooing the opposite sex in his last life. So, he was forced to rely on the only source of romance he had, and so he adopted a slightly more formal manner.
"Lady Sansa," Joffrey said, offering his hand with a polite nod. "It's a rather pleasant day. Would you care to take a stroll with me?"
He inwardly cringed at his own words, but when he looked up, he found the young girl's face as red as her hair.
"O-of course, my prince," she said as she reached out and took his hand. Joffrey then stood up straight and interlocked his arm with hers, allowing them to walk side by side. Before they departed, Sansa looked down at her direwolf pup she had brought with her from Winterfell.
"Stay, Lady," she murmured, rubbing the wolf's head in an affectionate gesture that made Joffrey smile as he admired the beast's beauty. The dog obediently remained sitting on the spot. The pair then made their way down the dirt path as soldiers and guards watched on.
Once they were away from any potential eavesdroppers, the pair began making small talk as they walked through the countryside. Truthfully, the prince had countless other things he'd rather be doing, but if he wanted this match to work, he knew he needed to make Sansa feel like he was interested. After walking to a large riverbank, the pair heard the clashing of sticks along with grunts. Sansa looked concerned, but Joffrey just patted her arm and gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's okay, my lady," he said, offering his best princely smile. "You're under my protection."
A soft sigh escaped Sansa's lips, and she leaned slightly closer to Joffrey, a look of pure adoration on her face. She followed her future husband as he made his way to the source of the sounds. As the pair came into view, they were greeted by the sight of Sansa's younger sister practicing swordplay with a young boy.
"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed as they came closer. Her sister's voice distracted her for just a brief moment, leaving her open to the young boy striking her arm with a wooden stick.
"Ow!" Arya grumbled, looking back at her training partner. "What are you doing here?! Go away?!" she yelled in a bratty tone. Joffrey looked more amused than anything as he looked back at Sansa.
"Your sister, I take it?"
The redhead looked embarrassed beyond words by her sister's words and antics, while the prince just chuckled.
"And who are you, boy?" He asked curiously.
The young boy looked to be a year younger than Sansa and was dressed in shabby clothes and worn-down boots. His hair was ginger-orange, and his face was dusted with freckles. As Joffrey slowly approached the pair, he quickly dropped the wooden pole he had been using.
"Mycah, my lord," he answered, his tone and body language filled with fear.
"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa remarked, her voice laced with disdain.
"He's my friend!" Arya defended.
The prince just ignored the two squabbling sisters as he made his way toward the young commoner.
"A butcher's boy, huh?" he asked, looking the boy up and down. "Do you want to be a knight someday?"
The boy didn't answer, just looking down at the ground in shame.
"Did you not hear me, boy?"
The boy looked up and met the prince's gaze.
"Yes, my lord."
"Then answer my question. Do you want to be a knight someday?"
The boy hesitated to answer, looking around like a cornered animal. Seeing his plight, Arya attempted to intervene.
"We were just practicing, so there's no need-"
But before she could finish, Joffrey cut her off.
"I was not asking you, my lady."
He continued to look at the nervous ginger until finally the boy answered.
"Mayhaps someday, my Lord," he finally answered.
Sansa rolled her eyes at the commoner's ridiculous answer, while Arya watched on nervously.
"Is that so?" The prince asked. "Well then, you need to practice correctly. Pick up the stick."
He said as he made his way over to a confused Arya and gestured for her to give him her stick. She reluctantly complied and watched on, equally confused as her sister, as the prince made his way over to the butcher's boy. Standing in front of the still-frightened young boy, Joffrey held his wooden pole with both hands as if it were a sword.
"Never use a low guard," Joffrey then slowly raised the pole above his head. "Take a high guard like this."
He held the pole above his head at an angle, his back straight and knees bent.
"Strike from high like this."
He then took a couple of downward practice swings to illustrate his point. In truth, he was just repeating the lessons he had received from Ser Rodrik while they stayed in Winterfell. Mycah looked at Arya, clearly just as confused as the two noble sisters.
"Come on, boy, get your sword up," he insisted, Mycah finally complying and raising the stick up over his head. Joffrey lowered his stick and made his way to the boy's side, correcting his posture.
"Get your feet more leveled," he said, spreading the boy's feet shoulder-width apart. "Sword straighter. Straighten your back and bend your knees."
The boy looked up at his stick, following the prince's advice. Then, he mimicked the prince's strikes he had just witnessed. Joffrey nodded his head with approval as he handed the wooden pole back to an astonished Arya.
"Good. Much better. Remember, the power of your attack doesn't come from your arms but the ground that holds your feet," he spoke, paraphrasing the northern knight's words. Mycah nodded his head and continued to practice what the prince had just taught him.
"Now, practice that every day until that stick is as light as a feather. And if the day ever comes when you want to swing real steel, come to the Capital and find me."
"How will I find you, my lord?"
Joffrey just chuckled while Sansa shook her head in derision for the boy's ignorance.
"It shouldn't be too hard considering I'm the next king after all."
Mycah's eyes went wide and seemed as if they were going to pop out of his skull.
"M-my prince, I apologize for not recognizing you! If you-"
But the prince held his hand up and stopped the young man before he made more of a fool of himself.
"It's fine. Now, I think we'll leave you two alone to practice. Just try not to get hurt."
"Of course, Your Grace!" he bowed frantically at the hip as Joffrey made his way back to a stunned Sansa.
"Shall we continue our walk, my lady?" He then offered her his arm, which she gratefully accepted. The pair then continued their stroll and made their way into the light forest, leaving her little sister and new friend behind to practice. Once they were far enough away from the odd duo, Sansa decided to pose her betrothed a question.
"Why did you bother to teach that smelly little boy anything about swordplay?" She asked incredulously.
Joffrey just shrugged his shoulders in response.
"Why not? The boy dreams of being a knight, so I thought I'd give him a few pointers."
"That commoner will never receive a knighthood."
"I don't know. Stranger things have happened. After all, did you ever think you would be the future queen of the seven kingdoms?"
Sansa blushed hearing his question.
"I-I don't know. It was always a dream of mine," she admitted, her voice a soft murmur.
Joffrey chuckled softly at her response. As the pair continued to walk deeper into the woods, Joffrey couldn't help but appreciate the beautiful country of the Crownlands. Suddenly, though, something didn't feel right. The birds' chirping ceased, and even the crickets fell silent.
All of Joffrey's previous life's survival instincts screamed of impending danger. He slowly unhooked his arm from Sansa's and reached down to the hilt of his longsword.
"What is it?" Sansa asked, finally noticing the distressed look on Joffrey's face as his eyes darted around the foliage. The prince didn't speak, just slowly stepping forward and shielding Sansa behind him, who was starting to look around frantically. Not seeing any movement, Joffrey finally relaxed before turning back to Sansa.
"Let's head back," he said.
But just as they were about to leave, a thick black shadow came darting out of the brush, aiming for the young girl. Joffrey rushed forward, tackling the girl to the ground, avoiding the shadow by a hair's breadth. Lying on the ground for a moment, the shadow creature finally came into full view.
It was a cat, and a giant one at that. Its fur was black as night with white stripes. In terms of size, he estimated it was the size of a jaguar. Sansa, seeing the beast, yelled out in fright.
"It's a Shadowcat!" she screamed.
Joffrey immediately got to his feet and drew his longsword, Lion's Tooth. Holding it steady with both hands, he moved, standing between Sansa and the hungry predator. The cat roared at him, baring its fangs at the two youths.
"Stay behind me!" Joffrey ordered as he swung his sword at the creature when it tried to step forward.
Hissing, it stepped back, hunching its back as it circled them. Joffrey kept his eyes locked with the beast's, keeping it at the end of his sword. Growing impatient, the cat reared up and leaped forward. Joffrey stepped forward, meeting it halfway, slashing and hacking at the beast and avoiding its razor-sharp claws, as a terrified Sansa watched on.
Finally, the prince made a mistake and overextended with a downward slash, leaving himself open as the beast leapt out of the way. The beast then slashed at Joffrey's arm, forcing him to release his grip on the embedded sword. He narrowly avoided the beast's claws before being struck with the back of its paw, sending him tumbling against a tree, his head colliding with the trunk.
Dazed and confused, Joffrey remained immobile as the beast slowly approached the defenseless boy. But just as it was about to pounce, a large rock struck its head. Whipping its head around to the source of its pain, it roared at the frightened noble girl, making her drop the second rock in her hand.
As it slowly lumbered its way towards her, Sansa's legs felt like jelly and were frozen stiff on the spot, unable to move. The dark jaguar reared back and was about to pounce when Joffrey jumped onto its back and locked its head in a rear-naked choke.
The beast thrashed and bucked, trying to shake the prince off as he continued to squeeze as tight as he could. As Joffrey wrestled with the Shadowcat, he shouted out to the still-frozen Sansa.
"Run, Sansa! Run and get help!" He screamed as he continued to get tossed about. The girl nodded her head and, raising her blue gown with both hands, rushed back to the campsite to get help. Now that Sansa was out of danger, Joffrey focused all his attention on killing the big cat.
Unfortunately, the cat bucked its head back, slamming into Joffrey's nose and dazing him enough to loosen his grip. He was tossed off its back. Quickly getting his bearings, he luckily rolled right where his sword lay. Getting back to his feet, he let out heavy breaths as the beast once again closed in on him.
With every step the beast took forward, Joffrey took a small step back, maintaining the distance. All he needed to do was buy time and fend it off before the soldiers arrived. Then, as he took one last step back, he felt his back leg almost give. Glancing over his shoulder for a second, he was shocked to find that he had his back to a ditch.
Glancing back toward the cat, who licked its lips with anticipation, Joffrey decided to gamble everything. As the Shadowcat hunched its back to jump, Joffrey dove backward into the ditch, letting his back hit the ground as he stuck his sword out as far as he could in front of him. The beast soon followed him but ended up impaling itself on his sword.
The predator howled in pain as it sank deeper and deeper onto the sword. Its body began to thrash and spasm, and with the last of its energy, it slashed the left side of Joffrey's chest, leaving four deep cuts down his chest. The prince gritted his teeth as he continued to drive his blade deeper and deeper into the black monster. Finally, the beast drew its last breath, and its body stopped moving while the light left its eyes. With the last of his strength, Joffrey tossed the beast to the side and pulled his sword from its breast.
HuffHuffHuff
Finally able to catch his breath, Joffrey wheezed out in pain before carefully touching the wound he had suffered. Four deep claw marks now ran down to the bottom of his left pec, and blood poured from the wound.
Knowing he needed to get treated immediately, Joffrey gritted his teeth as he forced his body to its feet. Then, using his sword as a crutch, he made his way out of the ditch and back toward the camp. Lumbering forward, each step he took was heavy and with great difficulty, forcing him to lean heavily on his sword for support.
Suddenly, the loud shouts and footsteps of soldiers could be heard coming his way. As the soldiers made their way into the clearing, they were shocked to find the crown prince bloodied and exhausted, leaning heavily on his sword that was planted into the ground. Letting out a relieved sigh, the last of Joffrey's strength left him as he fell forward, collapsing face first onto the ground.
Sandor Clegane pushed his way to the front of the soldiers and made his way to the fallen prince's side. Scooping the boy into his arms, the hound held him with the utmost care as he made his way back past the soldiers, who made a clear path for him back to the inn. As he walked by, Sansa had tears streaming down her face as she witnessed the sorry state the young prince was in.
"Thank you, Sandor," Joffrey wheezed out tiredly.
The hound didn't say anything as he looked down at the prince with a hint of sympathy in his eye.
"Send word to the king and queen that their son has been wounded," Sandor ordered as he kept walking with the boy in his arms.
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.
If you like my story and want to read more checkout my Patreon where you can read ahead for just a small fee.
The URL is patreon.com/RoguePrince69.
The current tiers and number of advanced chapters are
Copper: 2$- 2 chapters ahead.
Silver: 5$- 5 chapters ahead.
Gold: 10$- 10 chapters ahead.