The Young Lion

Act 2 Ch 15 Brokering an Alliance

[The Red Keep]

Two days had passed since Joffrey’s “incident” in his Solar. He was still disturbed by what happened but couldn’t explain why or even what had really occurred. Though he suspected it had something to do with his “uncle” Stannis and his red witch, killing Stannis had reached the top of his to-do list. When he was discovered unconscious on the floor, he lied and simply said that he had consumed too much wine. He didn’t want to sow discord and fear in his court, not at such a delicate time when his rule was still being challenged. Currently he was in the middle of a meeting with his small council discussing the affairs of both the city and the kingdoms as a whole.

“Grand Maetser.” He addressed the old sage.

“Yes, your grace?” He muffled back.

“What is my uncle Jaime's condition?” 

“Oh yes yes.” He mumbled as he slowly adjusted in his seat.

“The year in captivity has been detrimental to his health, but with some proper rest and nourishment, he should be good as new.”

“How long?”

“I’d recommend at least three weeks, your grace.” 

“Look after him, I'll be in need of his services.” Joffrey responded before turning his attention to his Master of Trade. 

“Lord Lark.” Joffrey spoke, getting both of their attention.

Lark was a young man in his early twenties with short brown hair and blue eyes. He was descended from a merchant noble house of Distar. From all the reports Joffrey read about him, Lark had single handedly built his father’s business from one shabby shop and boat into a chain business with many contacts across the Narrow sea. That's why when Joffrey began his reorganization of the commerce business through his merchant guild, he had appointed Lark as the overseer and his newly formed Master of Trade.

“Yes, your grace?” He responded.

“How are our profits coming along?” He asked, looking over at the young man.

“Well, your grace.” Lark said as he adjusted his monocle and fixed his papers before speaking. “Our Steel exporting is flowing quite well, many in the free cities of Essos have discovered the superiority of our steel ingots compared to others.”

“But,” He paused, letting out a loud sigh before continuing.

“But?” Joffrey urged him to continue.

“But with us being forced to buy imported goods due to the blockade, coupled with the expenses of transport and delivery, we are seeing less than fifty percent of the profits we were expecting.”

Lark was referring to the Tyrell blockade that closed off Roseroad to the capital, preventing them from receiving food and consumables from inland. Renly had orchestrated the blockade in an attempt to starve the citizens of his city and turn the common people against him. Joffrey had overcome the blockade by forming his merchants guild and importing food from across the narrow sea preventing his citizens from starving. Though with the use of imported goods came the price of much higher tariffs.

“I see.” Joffrey responded calmly with his stoic expression not betraying any of his internal thoughts.

Joffrey interlocked his fingers and brought both hands to his face. He rested his elbows on the table as he closed his eyes in deep thought. In truth the blockade had been a thorn in his side for weeks now. He had managed to bandage it with the use of imported goods, but the wound was starting to fester. 

“Anything else?” He asked, opening his eyes.

“Yes,” Lark straightened his back before speaking. “The demand for silks and clothing from your Textile industry have skyrocketed. We are seeing a significant profit margin in the new clothing style you’ve developed!” He said with clear excitement.

Joffrey’s face remained still, but internally he was grinning. He had created the Textile industry not only to have clothing that matched his preferences, but as a new source of income for the crown. He knew once the nobles saw the royal family in a new style of clothing, their vanity would force them to keep up with the new fashion trend. Since only his Textile factory could produce the new modern clothing, the nobles flocked in droves to his shop’s doors. He named the new clothing store Royal Garments. Though right now they only possessed a single factory, once the war ended they would be able to expand, creating a chain throughout the seven kingdoms. 

“Good, keep me updated on any future developments.”

“Yes, your grace.” Lark bowed his head.

Joffrey then turned his attention to his Master of Coin.

“Lady Ros, how are our financial arrangements proceeding?”

Lady Ros was a northern whore from Winterfell who traveled south once the War of the Five Kings began to break out. She served as Littlefinger’s right hand woman not only for knowing the ins and outs of the sex trade, but because she was literate, could do mathematics, and spoke several tongues. After Joffrey had executed Littlefinger for his treason she had taken over the several brothels that he owned and united the ladies in an attempt to protect them. 

When Joffrey had come knocking demanding compensation for the coin that Baelish had embezzled, Ros managed to find most of it. Impressed with her resourcefulness and coupled with his interest in centralizing the sex trade under the crown’s control he offered her the position of new Master of Coin. She agreed under the conditions that her fellow prostitutes be under the crown’s protection, with a fair commission split, and so the Red-light district of Kings Landing was born. Ros pushed a strand of her red hair out of the way as she read the parchments in her hands.

“With the coin we’ve recovered from Lord Baelish embezzlement's, we’ve managed to pay back the debt owed to the faith, as well as the Tyroshi Cartels.” Ros said confidently as she flipped through her papers. 

Tyrion was stunned by Ros' report, as he had been unaware of the financial crisis Joffrey had inherited from Robert. 

“What about setting up payments to either Tywin or the Iron Bank?” Joffrey asked Ros, ignoring his uncle's stunned expression. 

“While under normal circumstances I would agree with you, your grace.” She said with a clear tone. “But with the war still ongoing I believe it would be impractical for us to pay them.” 

Joffrey nodded his head after hearing her assessment of the situation.

“What do you propose?”

“I would suggest we suspend all debt payments for the time being, and focus on funding our businesses within the city and supporting our troops.”

After contemplating her report for a few moments, Joffrey spoke.

“Agreed we will put all our resources into funding our businesses and paying both our workers and soldiers.”

All of the small council nodded their heads after hearing their king’s decision. 

“Glad to see you're as good with numbers, as you are beneath the sheets lady Ros.”

Ros just rolled her eyes at the dwarf’s quip.

“Tyrion address lady Ros with respect, she is as much a member of the council as you.” Joffrey responded.

“It was only a joke, dear nephew, no need to get your skirt in a twist.” He said, brushing off Joffrey’s words.

Joffrey just stared across the table at his uncle with an annoyed expression. Him and his uncle had a rather strained relationship thanks to the actions of the real Joffrey Baratheon. He had done his best to demonstrate how much he had changed form the sociopathic little boy who loved to torture animals, but relationships couldn’t be built overnight. He decided to rely on Varys to help bridge the gap between them, as he would need the dwarf for his future endeavors.

“Enough about money, what news from the front?” Joffrey asked, turning toward his Master of Whispers.

Varys perked up after being addressed by the king.

“My little birds tell me your grandfather is currently engaged with Lysa Arryn’s army. He has managed to push her forces all the way to the Mountains of the Moon, while the remainder of his host is stationed at Harrenhal.”

“What of my uncles' movements?”

“Lord Stannis has left Dragonstone and has begun besieging Storm's End with around five thousand infantry men. As for Renly I’ve been told that he has left Bitterbridge and has been spotted riding back to break the siege with a host of twenty thousand horsemen. The rest of his forces remained at Bitterbridge with his new wife Margaery Tyrell.”

“Wife? Are we discussing the same Renly?” Tyrion asked, making the rest of the council chuckle, all of whom knew of Renly’s nocturnal activities, even Barristan grew a small smile.

“Yes, apparently the two were wed shortly after he was crowned Lord of the Seven Kingdoms in Highgarden. I’m sure once he defeats Stannis, he and his army will march on the capital.”

“What should we do?” Asked Pycelle.

“Perhaps we should parley with Renly if his force is really a hundred thousand strong then we should-” 

“No.” Joffrey interrupted the ferret before he could finish. “He’s a traitor and will be treated as one.”

“Your grace, I understand he took up arms against you, but if we are able to negotiate reasonable terms perhaps then we could-” 

“Reasonable terms?” Joffrey asked with a sneer. “How reasonable of an offer do you think we’ll get, hmm? Oh I know maybe I’ll be forced to take the black. Or maybe travel the free cities as a beggar like the Targaryens. Or maybe he’ll find a nice pike to put all our heads on, are those the reasonable terms you're referring to?” 

The council grew quiet upon hearing the king’s words.

“No, it's my duty to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” He said his voice filled with conviction. “And I will not hand them over to an impetuous younger brother throwing a tantrum.” 

“Then what do you suggest Joffrey hmm?” Asked Tyrion who was getting frustrated with his nephew's stubbornness. “Do you want to ride out with your two thousand men and face him in the field? In case you haven’t noticed, we have no allies to call for aid. Your grandfather and his army are all the way in the Vale. The Starks have marched back to Riverrun so I wouldn’t be counting on their support. Who do we have on our sides exactly? We need more men.”

Joffrey remained calm as he listened to his uncle’s tirade patiently waiting for him to finish.

“Everyone out.” He said with a cold tone dismissing everyone in the room while keeping his eyes locked with his uncle’s.

The members of the Small Council all got up one at a time gathering their documents and bowing their heads as they left. It wasn’t until Varys tried to leave as well that Joffrey spoke out.

“Not you.” He gestured for him to sit back down. 

Varys looked a little confused but followed the king's command and sat back down at the table. Joffrey then moved and sat at the end of the table and nodded his head for Tyrion to join them. Tyrion slowly waddled over and sat next to Varys after which Joffrey filled both their cups with wine and then his own.

“You’re right uncle.” Joffrey said after taking a sip from his cup.

Tyrion looked a little stunned by his nephew's acknowledgement.

“We are severely outnumbered and the crown must forge new alliances.” He said before taking another sip from his cup. “That is why I plan on brokering an alliance with Dorne.”

“Dorne?” Varys feigned ignorance to the king’s plan as Tyrion listened intently.

“Yes, I plan to marry princess Myrcella off to House Martell’s youngest son Trystane Martell.”

Tyrion and Varys both wore surprised expressions on their faces, but only one was genuine. Joffrey had already told Varys of his plans involving bringing Dorne back into the fold long before this meeting. Though he had instructed him to act surprised in order for them to gain Tyrion’s trust. Varys had been quite successful as he had been slowly working the imp and became his confidant he could trust and a shoulder he could lean on. He had kept his whore Shae a secret and would feed him bits of information when he asked for it.

“Dorne? I’m sorry, your grace but how? Their family hates us and for some very good reasons.” Tyrion asked with a dismissive tone. 

In truth Tyrion had been considering the exact same thing, but he wanted to understand Joffrey’s reasoning and his thought process. 

“I’m aware.” Joffrey said, setting his cup down. “But then again we only make peace with our enemies in order to forge new alliances. These alliances must often be sealed in matrimony. Once Myrcella marries Trystane we will ensure their loyalty, prevent them from backing either Stannis or Renly, and gain their army should we need it.”

“Ok but why are you telling me this?” Tyrion asked as he reached for the pitcher of wine.

Joffrey grabbed the pitcher first and set it out of his reach. Tyrion gave him a nasty look in response.

“I’m entrusting you, dear uncle, to broker this alliance.” 

“Me?” He asked 

“Yes, besides your whoring and drinking, you do have a way with words. So work your magic and send a raven to House Martell and secure an alliance.”

“Have you asked Myrcella what she thinks of this pairing?”

“Myrcella will do her duty when the time comes.” He said brushing off Tyrion’s concerns. “And we need to get her out of the capital before it's too late.”

“Can you do it?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Tyrion responded after a slight hesitation.

“Good,” Joffrey then turned his attention to Varys.

“As for you Spider, you will ride for Bitterbridge.”

“I’m sorry, pardon me, your grace I don’t understand?” Varys acted confused.

“You will broker an alliance with House Tyrell and bring with you the twin sons of House Redwyne. Should Renly fall to Stannis there will be a rift among their soldiers. I want you to secure their loyalty should that time come.”

“Stannis defeating Renly?” Tyrion scoffed. “Twenty thousand against a mere five.”

“And it was fourteen thousand against my two thousand, uncle.” He responded looking at the dwarf like a dumb child.

Tyrion couldn’t refute his point and remained silent mumbling something under his breath.

“Ok, but how do you suggest I broker an alliance exactly?” Varys asked 

“Use your imagination, just don’t leave there without reinforcements.” 

Varys glanced at Tyrion with clear concern on his face.

“I understand, your grace but perhaps we should-” He started to say before Joffrey abruptly stood up from his chair.

“Not another word.” He said sternly to both men. “You have your assignments, get to work.”

He then started to leave but stopped after standing behind Tyrion’s chair who remained seated.

“And one more thing.” He said turning to look down on his dwarf uncle, his tone cold and serious. “Don't ever question me like that in front of the other council members again.”

Tyrion remained quite looking back at his nephew with an equally serious expression on his face. The pair stared into one another's eyes for a brief moment before Joffrey resumed leaving the room leaving the pair alone in the small council chamber. Giving Varys the opportunity to gain even more Tyrion’s confidence, just as they had intended.

[One Week Later]

Varys had already left the capital accompanied by some of the royal guard and the twin sons of House Redwyne to gain House Tyrells favor. Tyrion had been very successful in gaining House Martell’s approval for the match with Myrcella and Trystane. Since under Dornish law Myrcella would be considered Joffrey’s heir not Tommen. They had agreed to house her in Sunspear away from the capital for her own protection. Now Joffrey had to break the news to his little sister that she would be leaving King’s Landing.

Joffrey walked down the stone corridor with a lite candle stick in hand. After walking for sometime he came upon a large oak door he stopped and stood before it. He breathed out a heavy sigh before knocking.

“Who is it?” Asked the voice from behind the door.

“It's me, little one may I come in?” He asked.

“No! Go away!” She yelled out angrily.

“Myrcella please.” He was sad. “I need to talk with you.”

After a momentary pause, the large wooden door was opened. Myrcella stood there in a yellow night dress, her eyes were puffy and red. She had clearly been crying alot.

“Come in I guess.” she mumbled.

Joffrey gave her a sympathetic sad smile before making his way into the room. Myrcella looked to make sure they were alone before shutting the door. Joffrey set the burning candle on her night stand before sitting on her bed. As he sat he patted the spot next to him inviting her to sit with him. After a moment of hesitation she made her way to her bed and sat beside her brother.

“What do you already know?” He asked her in a sweet tone.

“That you’re shipping me off to Dorne to marry some prince you and I have never met.” She said with an angry tone.

“Yes that's true but do you know why?”

“No, I have no Idea. Have I done something to anger you?” She asked, her voice said and her eyes pleading.

“What? No you haven’t done anything.” 

“Then why?! I don’t understand why I am being punished?!”

“This isn’t a punishment.” He said sternly, silencing his distraught sister. “I’m getting you out of the city because it is no longer safe for you here.”

“Why isn’t it safe?” She asked, confused.

“Myrcella you’re a smart girl, you know that our evil uncles are coming for us.” He said as he caressed her cheek. “I need you out of her for your own protection.”

“Then why can’t you come with me?” 

“Because I have duties and obligations that bind me here, sweet girl.” He said with a smile. “But believe me I would join you if I could.”

After contemplating his words for a few moments she looked up and asked.

“What if they don’t like me?” She asked innocently.

“How could they not like you, little one?” He asked with a laugh. “You’re one of the sweetest, most beautiful girls in the world.” 

Myrcella blushed a bit after hearing her brother's kind words, and even grew a small smile.

“You really think so, Jof?” she asked, fidgeting a little.

“Of course and if they are mean to you, I’ll turn their deserts into glass.”

Myrcella laughed at her brother’s joke, not realizing how serious he was. 

“Get some sleep alright.” He said as he helped tuck her in. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow alright.”

Myrcella just slipped back under her sheets and nodded her head.

“Could you stay with me till I fall asleep?” She asked innocently.

“Of course.”

He then sat and made himself comfortable in a chair near the head of her bed. He gazed upon his little sister until she drifted off. He then got up and quietly grabbed the still burning candle stick and slipped out of the room. As he was closing the door he took the time to one last look at his innocent sister’s face. A kind smile grew on his own as a single teardrop rolled down his cheek. He then quietly shut the door and made his way back down the stone corridor.

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