# The Wind of Change. book 1

Аноним Скальдъ

A student of the Ministry of Emergency Situations who is fond of Game of Thrones and reconstruction is invited by Seven gods to become Jofri Baration. The wedding with Margaret. The first months of life in a new body. Ссылка на автора: https://author.today/work/20847

The Wind of Change


Author: СкальдЪ

Notes:

A violent world implies a corresponding violent description. Westeros is not a sandbox for girls and boys. There are scenes of sex and violence. Some characters, such as Joffrey, Margaery, and Sansa, have been raised to adulthood.


The work was written at the request of the Горный мастер. Unfortunately, I didn't fulfill a couple of requirements: the character got into Joffrey not at the feast, when he was about to be served a cup of poisoned wine, but in the early morning of that day.

There is also no "action" icon, and instead of "geth" there is "jen", although there are feelings and bed scenes in the fiction. And there will be a lot of dialogues here.

The changes made seemed more promising to me, besides, they are more consistent with the author's style and his vision of the situation. Oh, yes, a more realistic rating has also been put up.

Горный мастер, I'm sorry if something is wrong!


Gorgeous Margaery Tyrell by Bella Bergolz

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/bNJ4G


06/07/17

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of AU"

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of Popadans"

No. 1 in the top "Jen in the genre of Fantasy"

No. 2 in the top "Jen in the genre of POV"

No. 2 in the top "Jen in all genres"


The Prologue


There are a lot of advantages and pleasant moments in stories about people who got somewhere. However, there is always one small, unpleasant chance that you will not fall into everyone's beloved hero or beauty (if you are a girl), but into a completely ordinary, gray personality. It's even worse if the person you've become is genuinely and justifiably hated by the whole world.

Every story begins with something, a visible point, a milestone, from which it is convenient to count down. And the same thing happened to me. The beginning of this story should be sought in the past....

I was born and live in Russia, in the Tver region, in a small town called Torzhok.

I am twenty-six years old, and I work in the Ministry of Emergency Situations, helping people, and sometimes even saving them. I like my job and it gives me a complete sense of need and usefulness. I can do something not only for myself, but also for others. This fact allows me to hope that I am not living this life completely stupidly.

There are no children. A regular girlfriend is also missing at the moment. My parents are dead. Father from cancer, mother from grief. It was very hard to get over the loss of loved ones, but over time I came to my senses.

I'd be alone as a finger in the whole world if I didn't have friends. They are cool, kind and interesting people. We spend a lot of time together. We have a lot to talk about and do.

Some of them share my main life interest - I participate in reconstructions. I like the glorious past of our Motherland and what happened on the territory of its "sworn" friends.

We have our own historical club "Ratoborets". We make various weapons and armor ourselves, learn how to put them on and wear them properly. We also train in the use of edged weapons. Of course, I haven't mastered anything serious, but I've learned something anyway.

Whenever possible, we practice in the equestrian section, sometimes combining these two areas - horses and fights. However, everything costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time. And you have to maintain your riding skills at least a couple of times a week. Unfortunately, this is not swimming. You may not swim for a year, even three years, and then you go into the water and just swim, as if there was no break at all. You can't do that with horses. Horse riding skills have to be maintained constantly.

But such a pastime brings great joy. You and the horse... And the wind in my ears... The weight of the armor... The seriousness and adrenaline of a training battle... Laughter of friends... You can write about it for a long time. Or dream.

The last significant event in which I had the opportunity to participate is the St. George tournament, which takes place every year, in May, in Kolomenskoye, near Moscow. Year by year, this event is gaining more and more participants. People come here from all over the CIS, and even Europe. Medieval Europe and the knight's lists are always played out here. Everyone is dressed in matching clothes, all the things are only from that era, the ladies look like ladies - romantic and beautiful. And all men look like knights.

Everything is serious and real. And when you are knocked out of the saddle at full gallop, and you fall to the ground, rattling your armor, you feel that not a spear flew into your shield, but a truck weighing several tons.

You need to feel this. Words can only convey general emotions. But you won't find the essence in them. Probably, all of us, the participants, are a bit romantic at heart. We grew up listening to stories about our glorious ancestors, the campaigns against Constantinople, the Polovtsian steppes, the dog knights and the centuries-old confrontation with the Tatars.

We have also all read the cycle "The Cursed Kings" by Maurice Druon and the novels by Alexandre Dumas.

Recently, many have been strongly influenced by the famous fiction epic "Game of Thrones", or as its book version is also called, "A Song of Ice and Fire". How much time we spent discussing this or that moment, this or that concept!

I'm not going to brag, but I think I understand quite well what this saga is really about. I even wrote an article and posted it on one of the blogs. It develops the idea that "Songs" are not a story of families or people. No, of course she means it all. But the meaning is much deeper.

This story is about what people are willing to do for power, how far to go, and who they will eventually turn into. And also, the main thing is this book about power. And about those who play it.

In the article, I compared everything to chess pieces and the players who move them. And the higher the status of a piece, the more dominant it can be on the playing field. The most significant influence, as it is not difficult to guess, is demonstrated by the players - those who "move" the pieces. There are few of them, they are very cunning, treacherous and unscrupulous. These are real bastards who are willing to do anything to achieve their goals. Absolutely everything.

As a matter of fact, the "Songs" begin with the fact that two players, Littlefinger and Spider, decided to start their Game. The first one wanted to "rock the boat" and catch titles, lands, wealth, brides and power in the rising turbulence. And the second one decided to help the last Targaryen representative regain her father's throne.

At that moment, the fate of King Robert Baratheon was sealed. For Robert is not only not a player, but he was not even a king as a figure. The maximum Robert was in that game was a rook. Powerful, straight as a hammer, not seeing or understanding anything around her. He performed well on the battlefield, but he was completely unprepared for what would follow when he sat on the Iron Throne. Baratheon was dead. And whose hands fulfilled the plan of the players, it doesn't matter at all. The mud rose from the bottom, as Littlefinger wanted. And the Game began.

There were other players in that game. You can count them on your fingers. The first is Tywin Lannister. As long as he lived, his family invariably won. Another live player is Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, although her role is not as prominent.

There were also other personalities in the saga who became players after a while. Daenerys Stormborn, Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister. Prince Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear, could have been a careful and thoughtful player, but he was unlucky.

There were strong figures in Westeros who thought they were more than what they really were. Like, for example, Cersei Baratheon. She was the queen. And she wasn't very far-sighted, but she thought of herself as a player.

Life quickly put everything in its place after the death of her father Tywin. Cersei made a lot of mistakes, made a lot of wrong decisions, lost all her children, allowed the "sparrows" to be reborn, and held on only because of her name, the gold of Casterly Rock, and past alliances.

There was also a very interesting character in the game, Arya Stark. Not a player, of course, but also not an ordinary piece, but rather a wild card in a chess game.

And then there was Joffrey Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, an evil, stupid, aggressive, cowardly, and sadistic young man. Three quarters of Westeros sincerely and quite naturally hated him. The others showed flattering smiles. And only a handful of people, mostly the Lannisters themselves, supported and demolished all his "quirks".

It was no accident that I chose this name. It all started with him. Or it's over, whichever way you look at it.

I slept soundly that night. And then I had a dream. I realized, even if it sounds ambiguous, that I was awake, and I found myself in a strange place.

I was in the center of a seven-pointed star inscribed in a circle, painted or laid out on a marble floor. A magical, silvery mist swirled around this place. The silence was such that it made my ears ring. It was like being on an island. It seemed to me that there was nothing there, beyond the fog-no air, no space, no time.

And then silhouettes began to materialize at the top of each of the rays of the seven-pointed star. It was similar to how photography is manifested. It was as if they were seeping in from another world and standing around me from all sides.

A middle-aged, bearded man wearing a crown appeared right in front of me. To his left was a smiling woman in her forties, dressed in rich clothes. Her gaze is full of kindness and care. Next came a powerful man with a hammer in his hand.

I glanced around the circle in silence, not understanding anything, examining them all in turn. My gaze came across a short figure in a raincoat and a hood pulled down over his face. His body seemed strange under his clothes, not masculine, not feminine, and not childish. Animal shapes and features seemed to be discernible there. There was an incomprehensible, terrifying power coming from this figure. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I hurried to turn around.

A mischievous young girl in a light dress looked at me, smiling and holding out her hands. A smile blossomed on her lips, and her eyes were pure and innocent. After her stood a man clad in armor, with a shield on his left and a sword in his right hand. His posture expressed indestructible strength and confidence.

When I had circled full circle, the old woman looked at me silently and expectantly. She held a lantern in her hand, and her eyes radiated intelligence and some kind of otherworldly knowledge.

"Well, man, are you glad to see us?" said the man in the crown.

"Ahem... I don't understand you," to be honest, I felt uneasy. The situation looked, frankly, not trivial, and the scary thing was that I didn't understand anything. And the figure of the man-beast, to which I involuntarily turned my back, was particularly creepy.

"We are Seven," said the woman with the lantern in her hand. "Admitted it now?"

A hunch flashed through my head. And I grabbed onto that thought like a lifeline:

"Westeros?"

"That's the one," the man in armor chuckled. I realized that his name was Warrior. And the rest became clear to me. But the Unknown One continued to frighten. And the situation itself has not become logical and simple.

"Well, why don't you say something?" The maiden smiled modestly but with dignity. "Haven't you realized yet that we're inviting you into our World... will you come?"

"Uh... I'm sorry, but I just don't know what to say."

"Ho-ho-ho," the man with the hammer laughed loudly, as if from a barrel. Or rather, not a man, but a Blacksmith.

"And you ask what's not clear", the Old Woman advised. "And we will answer."

"Well, then, okay... Where am I, what does all this mean, and what is going on?"

I admit, I was being childish at the time, asking ridiculous questions and showing completely idiotic emotions. Yes, this whole situation hit me like an avalanche. I was just not ready for this. Although, if we have to make excuses, then who in their right mind is ready for such a thing? This is clearly not an ordinary and mundane event. This means that the nervousness and fears are well-founded.

Seven of them answered the questions. It turned out that this place has different names. The word "Crossroads" seemed to be the most understandable - the center where different worlds and times intersect, and through which you can travel through them. The Seven of them needed me for one purpose-they wanted to invite me to Westeros. And the most interesting thing was that they offered to replace not just anyone, but King Joffrey Baratheon himself.

I was so surprised that I didn't feel it necessary to hide my emotions:

"Are you serious? Getting into the body of such a bastard? I'll get killed sooner or later. And this is not to mention the fact that this character is not inspiring at all!"

"If you don't change anything, you'll be killed twelve hours after you show up there," Mother "reassured" me. "That's why you need to survive."

"Joffrey?" I realized that these "guys" needed me for some reason, and I made a weak attempt to bargain. "Why not Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Stannis, or Renly Baratheon? Can't you play young Viserys?"

They explained to me that other people, due to various spatial and temporal processes, cannot be chosen. Only Joffrey, the young king, officially upholding the faith of the Seven, and only on the morning of his last day. Agree or refuse, it's your business. Finding others is not a problem.

"Why me, exactly?"

"We liked your thoughts about our World." Father simply replied.

"And what will I have to do?"

"Westeros is approaching a massive crisis. Within a few years, everything can descend into Chaos. New Gods and Entities will come, and the Seven of us will lose our power and authority. We need to keep our status."

Now that's warmer! Finally, they started talking about their relatives. This means that the Seven need help, and they want to maintain stability in Westeros, and at the same time their influence.

I remembered the saying that God has no other hands than human ones.

By that time, I was able to settle in a bit. I realized that no one was going to kill, castrate, or torture me, and I even became a little emboldened.

"Throw me or someone else into Rhaegar Targaryen before he gets killed." He also supported the Seven!

It turned out that this was also impossible. Only Joffrey, and only on one day.

"So I'm alone against the whole world?" I asked despondently.

"It all depends on you," the Warrior calmly replied to me. "True friends are not so difficult to find."

"And girlfriends," came the clear voice of Virgo.

"And girlfriends," the Mother agreed.

The Blacksmith and the Warrior nodded at the same time, and the Unknown added something in an unknown language.

"The world will not only try to kill you. Very often, he will help by giving happiness, love or hope. In completely unexpected situations, you can get help, find joy, and succeed", the old Woman explained. "You just need to be able not to pass by such moments."

"Will you come to the rescue?"

"This is undesirable. And difficult to do," After thinking about it, the Father replied.

"But is it still possible?"

"Whatever happens," the Mother replied. "It's not just up to us. But we can come to your dream, there, already in Westeros. And let's talk about it."

"And yet, in the most difficult moment, we will still try to help you," the Warrior added.

They all talked to me for a while longer. And only one Unknown remained stubbornly silent, as if he had filled his mouth with water. An eerie figure...

"I have to think about it," I finally gave the answer. "That's it, I can't solve it right away."

"You have three days. And then we will come for an answer," said the Old Woman.

All Seven figures began to disappear, melting away like smoke from a campfire. And I woke up.


Three days... Is it a lot or a little? Probably how to look at it, and what can be done in that time.

I was thinking. And I read it. And I was watching a TV series. And with such actions, it was as if I was playing giveaways with myself and leading everything to agree. Yes, why not? I was informed that no obligations were required of me. I just get into the world, I try to survive, to prevent (or win) a global war if possible. And what happens will be my reward.

So why not plunge into Westeros? Moreover, I am interested in him, and during this time I managed to thoroughly remember everything.

However, the first days frankly scared me. Yes, I've read books and reviewed all six seasons of the series. But I still haven't learned the customs, I don't know what people look like, how they talk to each other. It's going to be hard for me, damn hard, in these early days of adaptation.

However, there are always hardships and difficulties, even in everyday life. I may not succeed, but there's nothing wrong with that. I'm just going to lose an amazing chance. But nothing will happen to me -I'll wake up at home as if nothing had happened. The Seven of them promised me that firmly. Although I had a nasty idea that they were not telling me something.

So in the end, I accepted the challenge. This is what many of us dream about, and when we miss such a chance, we regret it for the rest of our lives.


And so I found myself at the "Crossroads" again and saw the Seven Gods.

"So, what's your solution?" My Father asks.

"I agree."

"We knew it," the Old Woman says with satisfaction, and the lantern in her hand flashes dazzlingly.

"So be it!" Father shouted.

And the world spun in my eyes. I saw some flashes, flashes of light, and felt like I was being pulled somewhere. And then it was gone....


Chapter I. Time for reflection


Abruptly, as if from a jolt, I woke up, came to my senses and slowly, cautiously opened my eyes, looking around.

I was in a spacious bedroom and was lying on a very large bed with numerous soft pillows and blankets. The bed itself looks exactly like the bed of an influential feudal lord - huge, with pillars, a canopy of unclear color and with incomprehensible patterns. I couldn't make out the details, since it was still early in the morning. Gray light was barely beginning to seep through the windows, which were covered with curtains and shutters.

Throwing back the covers and awkwardly, falling heavily on the softest mattresses, I crawled to the edge of the bed, sat down and put my feet on the stone floor covered with skins. He sat for a while, moving his fingers, looking around and getting used to his new body.

To my left was a bedside table with a metal bell on a long handle, as well as a low armchair on which numerous pieces of clothing were piled in a mess. It was very unusual, as if I had got into someone else's thing. And there was also a certain feeling of disgust and even shame - the body was unfamiliar and not mine!

I get up... My head is spinning, and my legs feel like they have no strength at all. I stood for a while, breathing deeply and getting used to the new state. The unpleasant and unusual sensations slowly passed.

I looked at myself. Of all the clothes I'm wearing, I'm wearing something resembling linen, soft mid-thigh briefs with a drawstring at the waist and two more laces at the bottom so that I can tighten them on my legs. The underwear is funny, there's no other way to say it. But I'm glad that it exists at all!

With a grunt, he couldn't resist loosening the straps and looking at his new men's household. A dick is like a dick, not big, but not small either. Average. And anyway, judging by my overall thinness and lack of fat, I'm still quite young. How old was Joffrey at the time of his death? Not much, but he managed to come of age. It's a good thing I didn't get into the child's body.

Speaking of Joffrey.... His personality was not visible in the body. But the memories remain. Anyway, I saw a key chain around my neck and immediately remembered that it was for a personal safe. So the Seven didn't cheat here either-I still have the memory of Joffrey's past.

Checking my memories, I quickly got my bearings and went to one of the cabinets near the wall. The doors creaked as I opened it, knelt down, and pulled back the sash. Under it, embedded in the bottom of the cabinet, there was a hiding place. I took the key off my neck and opened the lock on the door.

The safe was a roomy oblong box in which Joffrey kept particularly valuable items. There were several bags of money, a jewelry box, a couple of expensive trinkets, and a leather folder with papers. I was briefly surprised that Joffrey even had written documents. In any case, it's great that the young king still had the brains to keep valuable correspondence out of sight.

I scratched my forehead, but I didn't take anything from the safe, but closed everything, got back on my feet and began to explore the rooms.

The bedroom turned out to be a very spacious room with several closets, the already mentioned bed, armchairs and a desk with a pristine tabletop. Everything is clear here, Joff definitely did not like working at the table. Receiving emails is one thing, but writing responses is quite another. There was a loaded crossbow on the table. Is Joff afraid and calming himself down this way?

There were two doors in the room. One opened into a long corridor, in which a pair of candelabra with burning candles were attached to the walls - now, in the early morning, they were almost burnt out. I walked down the corridor, opened another door and found myself at a fork in the road - to the right was a room with a hole in the floor and a chair that looked more like an armchair upholstered in soft leather, and the back and armrests were covered in velvet. There was an oval hole in the seat. Presumably, this is a lavatory and a royal toilet seat - comfortable and soft, so that the autocrat, God forbid, wouldn't hurt his crowned ass.

After relieving myself and trying not to think about the fact that this is the first time I've seen and held my entire body and its individual parts in my hands, I tied the ribbon on my underpants and went to the bathroom. There were a couple of small and empty stone bathtubs, a barrel and several jugs of water, as well as a huge mirror and hygiene items.

The light came through the narrow windows under the ceiling, but there was very little of it.

I saw myself perfectly - in full growth. A tall, thin young man with long legs and arms, broad shoulders.

The body is young and beautiful, very promising, if I may say so. Even if I didn't know who Joffrey's parents were, I could safely assume that both his mother and father were also beautiful and well-proportioned people. It felt like it was all for a reason, but the result of centuries of genetics to breed normal offspring. They should not have entered into closely related marriages yet!

I liked the head and the face too. Thick, golden hair almost to her shoulders, big green eyes, a thin nose, and a strong chin. But the lips are curved somehow capriciously. Yes, and facial expressions, and muscle memory tried to act independently, betrays an extremely spoiled and not too distant personality. I chuckled.

The body is beyond praise. However, the previous owner certainly did not deal with it. The muscles are poorly developed, the skin is white and too tender. Surely there's no stamina here, like a cat crying. I flexed my right bicep experimentally. Yeah, I wasn't impressed with the result.

Okay, we can deal with all this later. Leaving the chandelier in the bathroom, I went through the bedroom and out another door. I was glad that there was complete order with coordination, and the body itself gave the impression of a new thing, not spoiled by bad habits and excesses.

Now I was in the lobby. You can't call it anything else - it's a big square room. There was an impressive table for ten people with chairs, and in the corner there was another table for two or three people. There was a jug and a couple of goblets. Veined marble columns supported the ceiling.

I went over, took the decanter in my hand and sniffed the contents. It smelled of wine. Moreover, the smell is very subtle and invigorating. Unable to resist (they'll start killing me later), I poured a glass and took a few sips.

I have never tasted wine that is similar in quality and smell before! It smelled of the southern sun, warmth, and perfectly ripened, slightly dusty grapes. He was thirsty and thirsty...

Regretfully, he set down his glass. Alcohol cravings should be monitored. If there are such wines in Westeros, it's no wonder that King Robert got drunk.

Weapons hung on the walls - a pair of swords, an axe, a spear, a shield, and in the corner, on struts, stood a full knight's armor. But most of all there were crossbows. Apparently, my predecessor had an unquestionable liking for this type of weapon.

I couldn't resist picking up a few crossbows in turn. The weapon is serious. And some of them actually looked like a work of art - you can put them right in the museum!

Putting down the crossbows, I continued to get acquainted with my new home.

There were several exits in the hall. One led to a room that housed the royal wardrobe. I looked in there and couldn't help whistling... I've lived in an ordinary family all my life. I ate well and dressed well. Maybe I've never worn really expensive clothes, but I didn't have any problems with things.

There was something unimaginable here.... The open closet is literally filled with a multitude of dresses, doublets, tunics, raincoats, vests, trousers and leggings. There are simply countless of them - of various styles, colors and appearance. There was a separate shelf with boots, shoes and other footwear - at least fifty pairs.

Well, there's a rack with berets, hats, and everything else. Yes, there is also an impressive wardrobe with underwear, shirts and scarves. Of course, I knew that Joffrey had never been poor. But to be pampered so much... That's another detail of why he grew up that way.

In the center of the room, in a heavy metal frame, on stands in the shape of lion paws, there was a tall mirror. I looked at myself again. Well, Joffrey didn't have any problems with clothes with such a body - everything should fit perfectly on him. The main thing is to combine different colors correctly.

Calculating my future style and clothing preferences in my head, I returned to the hall, went to the door that led to the corridor, put my hand on the carved metal handle, but I did not open the door, but leaned my ear against it and listened.

Even at the very beginning, I could hear confident, solid snoring. Someone was sleeping outside the door. Joffrey's memory told him that one of the Royal Guardsmen stayed there every night.

I pushed on the door, but it hit something and wouldn't open. The snoring stopped for a moment, and then resumed. No longer hiding, I slammed the door against an obstacle on the other side.

"Who's there?" the snoring stopped and a sleepy, `rumpled' voice was heard. "In the name of the Seven!" It seems that whoever was saying this did not expect or was just not used to the fact that the king could get up so early.

There was a creak as something moved across the floor and the door opened. A medium-sized, bald man with sagging cheeks, short, powerful legs, and a wide chest, clad in white scaly armor, stared at me in fright.

"I am glad to see you, Your Majesty", The fat man covered his yawn with his hand, trying to look brave at the same time. "Something happened?"

"Not yet," Joffrey's memory told him that this man was Ser Boros Blount, one of the seven knights of the Kingsguard, an insignificant and foolish warrior. Joffrey sincerely despised him and never called him by his first name.

Ser Boros was now shifting awkwardly around his couch. Apparently, he dragged him close to the door, so that no one could accidentally enter, and was sleeping peacefully. He took off his helmet and placed it against the wall, as well as the sword scabbard.

I looked around the dark corridor, Ser Boros, nodded to him and returned to my room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the knight took a deep breath. It seemed that Joffrey, with his mood swings, penchant for reckless cruelty or unreasonable and stupid humor, was feared here.

The door closed behind him. I scratched my chin. The knight sleeps at the battle post, guarding the king. Is this even normal or what? Is this a violation or is everyone doing this?

After thinking about it, I decided not to cut off my shoulder, not to do anything, but just find out how the guards should serve at night, and only then make a decision. Moreover, the fat man did not just sleep, but blocked access to my chambers with his impressive body.

Going to the window, I opened the curtains, then, after fumbling, I opened the shutters. Fresh, invigorating air rushed into the room. It smelled of sea breezes, seaweed, and rotting fish. I also caught a "hint" of shit-I think there were certain problems with the sewers in King's Landing.

I sat on the windowsill and looked out at the city. The sun was rising on the left, which meant that the windows faced south.

Below was a park with manicured trees and gravel paths. My bedroom is located high enough so that the castle wall does not block the view much. In the distance, I could see narrow streets running down to the water, houses, tiled roofs of various shades, and chimneys. And then the sea began, which was breathing quietly and preparing to meet the new day. The chatter of seagulls could be heard. From below, the noise of the waking capital could be heard from the city.

Leaning back against the side wall, he stretched one leg along the windowsill and thought.

So, the Seven didn't cheat. I got into the body of Joffrey Baratheon. That's how I imagined this guy, and Ser Boros's address as "your Majesty" implied that I was the king, not anyone else. So, we can also agree with the fact that it is the morning of the first day of the new year, three hundred and one years after the Conquest of Aegon Targaryen.

Let's take it for granted that I got to Westeros safely, which I still didn't believe until the last moment. Or rather, it wasn't that he didn't believe, rather, he doubted that everything would work out. Now the doubts are over and we need to think about what to do and how to be.

Of course, I've prepared well, but it doesn't hurt to go over everything in my head once again - I won't be able to sleep in this state anyway.

So, I am Joffrey Baratheon, the First of this name, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Roynar and the First People, Defender of the State. As they say, there are a lot of capital letters in names and titles.

However, now not all seven kingdoms are subordinate to Joffrey, but a little less. He is spoiled, cruel, and has a penchant for aggression and sadism. He's also cowardly and suspicious.

Of course, it's not really me, but my predecessor, so to speak. The bottom line is that most people consider him, and now me, to be just that. And at the moment, they are evaluating me based on my past, let's face it, actions that were not very worthy and intelligent. Joff is only a few years old, but he has already managed to form a certain opinion about himself. And this opinion has a rotten smell.

He ordered the execution of Ned Stark. For this, he is hated by the entire North and the Riverlands, where Ned's wife, Catelyn Tully, comes from. For the death of his father and the numerous humiliations, Sansa Stark is afraid of him, however, skillfully hiding it. The youngest girl, Arya, before falling asleep, each time lists all those who, in her opinion, deserved to die. Joffrey is on this list.

Stannis Baratheon, like half of Westeros, considers me the fruit of incest between Cersei and Jaime Lannister, despises and dreams of taking the throne.

The North is in hiding, and Winterfell is smoking in ruins. Lord Roose Bolton seems to remain loyal to the Lannisters, but things are very difficult there.

House Martell, the Princes of Dorne, genuinely hates the Lannisters and me as well. A mere trifle keeps them from openly rebelling.

The Greyjoys have declared an independent kingdom on their islands and are happily flooding Westeros with blood.

Of all the Great Houses, only the Lannisters certainly support Joffrey. And the Tyrells, the lords of the Reach, whose daughter, Margaery, I'm supposed to marry today.

Only two of the seven houses are genuinely loyal, not counting their own lords and knights residing on Royal Lands.

However, there are still Freys. Most recently, they staged the Red Wedding at the instigation of Tywin Lannister, killed Robb Stark, his mother Catelyn and many northerners.

And then there is the house of Arryn, as tall as honor, to whom Petyr Baelish, nicknamed Littlefinger, was recently sent with the task of attracting this great house to his side. However, the Guardians of the East are only biding their time, and they can march against King's Landing at any moment.

Well, in the very east, on another continent, Daenerys Stormborn begins her heroic path of ascension to power. If everything goes as it goes, in a few years her dragons will grow up, she will solve all economic, human and other problems, gather significant forces and cross over to Westeros to recapture the throne of her ancestors.

This is about external affairs. Now it's time to look at your own family and the family of your future wife.

The Lannisters are now ruled by Tywin, the Guardian of the West. He's my grandfather and treats me with disdain. Joffrey has done nothing over the years to win not even the respect, but at least the family affection of such a person. Tywin is just supporting Joffrey for lack of anything better. In his eyes, I'm completely insignificant, and the best thing, from his point of view, is that I don't be stupid, mind my own business, and prevent serious people from doing difficult work.

Tywin is the hand of the king. He is supported in everything by his younger brother, Kivan, a master of the laws. Kivan has a lot of children, but I'll come back to this topic later. There is also another Tywin's brother, Geryon, who went missing in the Smoky Sea. Daiwen, my second cousin, is kind of fighting in the Riverlands.

My official mother, Cersei, Tywin's daughter, holds the title of Queen Regent. She is an evil, domineering woman, whose main drawback is that she clearly overestimates her mental abilities and believes that she has a gift for intrigue. If everything goes as it goes, and Tywin dies, then Cersei will get unlimited power and everything will start to fall apart quickly. Cersei loves Joffrey, and therefore spoils him, and all her actions did not help the guy grow into a normal person.

There's also Uncle Jaime, who's actually the father. In the past, before he lost his arm, he was a great warrior. His leadership abilities are somewhat weaker, and there is no gift for intrigue at all. He was used to solving problems from a position of strength, name, and sword.

The smartest of the Lannisters is Tyrion. The trouble is, everyone else except Jaime either underestimates him, or tries to ignore him, or just despises him, like Cersei and Joffrey himself. Tyrion is smart, cunning, and funny, but he's used to Joff hating him.

My younger brother Tommen is in the Red Castle, and my sister Myrcella is in Dorne, and I'm pretty sure Joffrey didn't give a damn about them.

The Lannisters are the richest house in Westeros. And the most numerous are Tyrells. And it is with them that I must become related.

In fact, the Tyrells are led by Lady Olenna, Queen of Thorns, Margaery's grandmother. Her son, Mace, runs it officially. This is a not very smart, conceited fat man who currently sits on the Small Council as master of the ships. Mace has four children. Three sons: Willas, Garlan, Loras and daughter Margaery. And these people want (in their own interests, of course) to support both the Lannisters and Joffrey.

I shifted my position and broke away from my strategic thoughts. The sun has already risen, the city has woken up. The smell of fresh bread wafted up to me-it looked like baking had begun in the kitchen. The noise grew louder. Not far away, most likely in the kennel, a dog barked. A second and another answered her.

"Bitch! Shut up!" there was a rough mat, a thud, a squeal, and everything went quiet.

They have fun living here! I went to the table, poured more wine, and climbed onto the bed.

So, what are the plans, King Joffrey?

To begin with, do not die and live this day safely. And the next one. And a couple more. They're going to try to kill me today. And then, if it doesn't work out, they won't give up in the future.

Who wants to kill? There are plenty of applicants, they will soon be queuing up. So, the first priority is to survive. Then try to establish relations with the inner circle of people - Tywin, Tyrion, Jaime and Margaery. Nothing needs to be fixed with Cersei. She loves me anyway. She just needs to get used to the idea that her son has begun to change, and at the same time has suddenly matured and become wiser.

I also need to protect Grandfather Tywin with all my strength - everything will collapse without him. And it is also necessary to prevent Tyrion from being convicted (although if I stay alive, then there is nothing to judge him for), and then he fled, and eventually joined Daenerys Targaryen. Such a cynical and cunning head is needed here. If I stay alive, I will do my best to improve our relationship.

With the help of such people, it is quite possible to sit on the throne for the first time and acquire minimal skills. And then we'll see. Of course, there are plans. But everything is in general terms and there is no point in voicing them yet.

My new body was full of emotions, I was very nervous and still couldn't calm the nervous itch. I couldn't sit still. On the contrary, I wanted to go somewhere, start doing something and not waste time.

After thinking about it, I still stayed in my chambers. I'm not going to do anything useful yet anyway.

Instead, I took the sword and practiced with it for a while. To be honest, I didn't really know how to use a sword. Participation in historical tournaments does not count. But I knew how to hold it properly, and I could land a couple of slashes and thrusts. I chopped the air a little, moved around, and even broke out in a sweat at the end - my body was clearly not ready for prolonged exertion.

If I survive, I'll find a teacher. I will not become a good warrior anymore, since such a thing must be done from early childhood, and for a king this is not the main advantage. But at least I'll get fit a little bit.


Chapter 1.2 Tywin Lannister


The day began like a normal day of the right hand. Lord Tywin probably got up earlier than all the other noble lords and knights, drank a glass of wine, ate a piece of peppery cheese, threw a light robe over his nightgown, sat down at the table and began sorting through papers.

Many cases required his attention, approval, or prohibition. The war in the Riverlands was progressing successfully. Ser Gregor Clegane repeatedly defeated the minor lords and their troops, and his cousin Daven the Noisy led the army that besieged Riverrun. The Freys and their men helped him in this. And, although the siege threatened to drag on, everything went according to plan.

The Brotherhood without Banners was a significant problem in the Riverlands. Lord Dondarrion and his men have somehow imperceptibly become a minor but unpleasant and annoying pain in the ass.

Another problem was old Lord Frey, who was getting arrogant day by day and wanted more than he deserved. Over time, he needs to be put in his place, but right now he is still needed and it is not worth offending the old man ahead of time.

Lord Tywin finished writing the letter, sprinkled sand on it, sealed it with the seal of the right hand, and leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully biting his pen.

He assessed all the problems of the outside world, family enemies, allies, and those who could become the first or second without unnecessary emotions and treated them as inevitable evil. Lord Tywin was well aware that the world did not revolve around him and his ambitions. But he did his best to make other people think that way.

Over the years, he had gotten used to such tasks and such a state of affairs. It became a part of his life and did not cause unnecessary emotions. But what was upsetting, not surprisingly, was in his own home, in his children and grandchildren.

Tywin Lannister did not suffer from excessive modesty and was well aware that Westeros does not often give birth to people like him. He was good in many ways- as a commander, as the hand of the king, as the head of the house. In addition, he possessed the gift of intrigue, was well-read, knew several languages and, most importantly, was able to separate thoughts from feelings, important from secondary. The Lord understood what was achievable and what was not.

His father, Titos, also read a lot and was a hospitable and cheerful lord. It didn't do him any good. The standard-bearers and vassals openly laughed at him, while behind his back they jeered and ignored his orders.

Tywin was molded from a different mold. In the short time after his father's death, he instilled unconditional respect for House Lannister among his people, and then throughout Westeros. Someone felt his rage in full. Then it was the turn to propel Casterly Rock to true greatness.

It's hard to carry such a burden alone. Assistants are needed in every case. And the more serious and global the tasks, the more competent people should surround you.

He used to rely on his children, hoping that they would inherit not only his ambitions, but also his abilities.

But the children failed... Jaime, the one he had hoped for in the first place, turned down the role of Lord of the Cliff, and it seems he never grew up, never got enough of playing soldiers. He only wanted to be the lord commander of King's Landing and lead the troops on campaigns.

Cersei is not stupid, but she lacked grace and caution. And she is used to solving all issues only with the help of money or force. In addition, she began to change a lot - and not for the better. Under King Robert, she was still quite sane, but now, having become Queen Regent, she began to annoy more and more with her complacency and political shortsightedness. Lately, Lord Tywin had been seriously considering sending her to Casterly Rock so she wouldn't get in the way.

And another headache is that Cersei is sleeping with Jaime. Tywin was never naive. He found out long ago and with absolute accuracy that all these rumors are true. But until his children crossed a certain threshold, until this story came out, this state of affairs was tolerable. And the rumors? They are always there. They are inevitable. And you can benefit from everything.

Joffrey was not Robert's son, but he bore his name and was technically Baratheon. And Tommen is also a Baratheon. This means that if Stannis and his daughter die, then there will be no other Baratheons except his grandchildren.

People will always believe the one with the power. The Lannisters have the power. Therefore, he can make people believe that Tommen is Baratheon again, and give his grandson Storm's End. This state of affairs offered dazzling prospects - he could unite Casterly Rock, Storm's End and the Royal Lands into one inheritance and create the foundation of the Lannister kingdom, which would stretch from the east coast to the west, and which could stand for centuries. He already had a long-term plan for this. The main thing is that your own children and grandchildren do not interfere with its implementation. And he can handle all the others. And let the Seven not be bloodthirsty and give him another ten years of life - he doesn't ask for more.

Lord Tywin couldn't help but chuckle when he thought of the gossip surrounding his grandson. Gossip, even if it is true, is a terrible weapon. If you follow them, they can lead to very unpleasant places and lead to terrible consequences.

Stannis and Renly Baratheon believed these rumors and declared that Joffrey was not Robert's legitimate son, and therefore could not be king.

Where are they now? Renly was dead. Soon, Stannis will follow his brother. There will be nothing left of House Baratheon, and the Lannisters will get rid of one of their competitors. That's what believing in rumors leads to, if a fool believes them!

Well, there's nothing to say about the youngest son, Tyrion. Lord Tywin has recently begun to realize that it was he who turned out to be the smartest, most insidious and cunning. Yes, but his appearance negated literally everything, and moreover, made him grumble at the gods that it was he who received the abilities that Lord Tywin so wanted to see in his other children. And this is not to mention the fact that Tyrion killed his own mother, Lady Joanna, at birth. Tywin loved his wife more than life, and since then an unhealed wound appeared in his soul - time could not heal it, and his father never forgave his son... And his many adventures with whores are a completely separate conversation. It feels like Tyrion is doing everything on purpose, to spite his father. He clearly doesn't want to pay attention to how it affects the prestige of the house.

His children, so different, but at the same time very similar, did not want to understand one simple thing - everything he does, he will leave it to them and his grandchildren. He was building the foundation of Lannister greatness for decades to come-and they didn't want to or couldn't see it. With their annoying arrogance, and even stupidity, their unwillingness to sacrifice anything for a common goal, their vanity and ridiculous, far-fetched insults, they greatly complicated the life and plans of the old lord.

So the grandson, Joffrey, who became king thanks to Robert's early death, did not grow up to be the one he would like to see as a continuation of his own business.

He knew that Geoff was far from being a fool, he understood and remembered many things easily. But he didn't want to know anything superfluous, didn't want to understand something and do something really important.

Tywin admitted that people liked his eldest grandson. And that he can achieve a lot.... Or rather, he could have if he had become a completely different person, and if his parents had seriously engaged in his upbringing. Geoff grew up moody and spoiled. And his age and the way Cersei acted on him, the status of the young king, money and obsequious, flattering servants did not allow him to expect that he would start to get smart and get smart.

So it turned out that of all the relatives and friends, only the younger brother Kivan sincerely wanted to help and really helped in his difficult plans. That's good, but supporting your own children and grandchildren would be much more enjoyable.

However, in the last year, after the death of Stafford Lannister, his son Daven showed himself well as a commander. He was loud, funny, loud, and out of control, but he took command of one of the troops on his shoulders, thereby reducing the burden of responsibility on Tywin's shoulders. The old lord was grateful to him for that. Besides, he understood that it is advisable to use people according to their abilities. Everyone is good in their place.

The lord got up, went to the window and opened the shutters. The peculiar aroma of King's Landing burst into the room - the stink of a huge city, mixed with notes of cooking food and the smell of the sea.

Lord Tywin did not like King's Landing. He also couldn't stand the smell of her. There were a lot of things that annoyed him here. Perhaps, of all the things in which you can find at least some beauty is the sea.

Yes, the sea. But here it is eastern, unlike the much-loved Casterly Rock, where the sea is sunset. There, the retiring sun gave incredible beauty to sunsets, dolphins danced in the water, and a light breeze set them up in the most peaceful way. I just wanted to live there and raise my grandchildren. And the smells there are much better.

He looked up at the rising sun and rubbed the gray stubble on his chin-it looked like it was going to be a hot and troublesome day. It's his grandson's wedding day. Everyone will drink, eat and have fun. And only a few will have to pay off for all this horde of idlers and gluttons.


Chapter 2.1 Morning


The cheerful trills of some kind of bird could be heard outside the window. Golden specks of dust danced in the sunlight. Majestic bell sounds were heard. Perhaps this is how every day begins in King's Landing, or maybe in the Great Sept they remind the residents of the royal wedding.

They came to wake me up at about eight in the morning. There was a timid knock on the door, and I shouted permission to enter.

The first person to enter the room was a well-developed, over six feet tall, but some kind of shifty, with flattering eyes and a cynical smile, a warrior. Joff's memory told him that this was a hedge knight, Ser Tallad the Tall, who carried out various tasks and orders. A kind of errand man - do this, find this, run over there... He was a decent warrior and a completely normal person, but from Joff's point of view. As I searched through the king's memory, I realized that he was a rotten and two-faced man.

"Good morning," the knight bowed. And I didn't like his smile-it was insincere and narcissistic.

After waiting for my nod, Ser Tallad walked over to the window and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

After that, a medium-sized guy, more like a boy, with blond hair and attentive eyes, which now had an anxious expression, slowly and cautiously filtered into the hall. Apparently, Joffrey did not please the servants and could easily yell and humiliate. The guy was carrying a steaming jug in one hand and a stack of towels in the other.

Then another young man appeared, taller, older, and with dark hair. With both hands he carried a wooden bucket filled to the top with boiling water.

"May I, Your Majesty?" The first guy stopped after taking a few steps.

"Yes," I had to strain, but my memory didn't let me down. The eldest was Jacob Lidden, and the youngest was Robert, but Joffrey did not consider it necessary to remember his last name. They were my stewards and belonged to the Lannister vassal families. Cersei assigned both of them to me.

"How did you sleep, Your Grace?" Jacob asked.

"It's not bad," I answered briefly and tried not to make unnecessary movements or say unnecessary words at all, so as not to arouse reasonable suspicion ahead of time.

"And yesterday we had a great time getting ready for your wedding", Ser Tallad laughed. "A barrel of vermouth was drained, and the roast boar was ordered to live a long time! All the guys are lying down!"

I ignored the obviously familiar tone and turned my gaze to the stewards.

"Are you ready to wash up?" Lidden asked. I was ready and allowed myself to be taken to the bathroom.

On the way to the bathroom, the emotional assessments of the previous Joffrey suddenly popped up: he considered his stewards to be very necessary and useful beings who were bound by fate to serve him. To put it simply, they are like a necessary piece of furniture for him. Tallad was treated better, like a host to a funny dog that performs various commands well.

I was deeply offended by this attitude - I never considered myself a saint, but I didn't despise people that much either. No, isn't he a freak?

The stewards expertly filled a marble tub with boiling water, diluted it with cold water, and one of the servants brought another bucket of boiling water.

The youngest, Robert, was apparently going to undress his king. I was startled by the unaccustomed feeling that Joffrey was almost being carried around here, not to mention washing, rubbing his back, and combing his hair.

So, feigning displeasure, I chased everyone out of the tub and took it alone. The soap here turned out to be fragrant, though liquid, poured into special jugs. And soft sea sponges were used as washcloths, or a rougher bundle of hemp ropes.

I washed and dried myself with pleasure, then brushed my teeth with a soft wooden stick with a split tip. The toothpaste was replaced by a special powder of unknown composition.

The sensations were so-so - a normal brush cleaned much better, and there was no need to talk about the feeling of freshness in the mouth from a good paste. But never mind, we'll use what we have.

After that, they brought me slippers, put me in a bathrobe and invited me into the hall, where a light breakfast was already served - ham, juice, and wine - where without it in Westeros!

Meanwhile, Ser Tallad had refilled his glass and was clearly trying to shake off his hangover. I didn't like his familiarity. Apparently, Joff had pretty much dismissed the man.

I ate diligently and slowly. So, how should everything be done?

Hold a spoon or fork in your left hand. It's a little unusual for me, but my body adjusted and acted in accordance with muscle memory.

Judging by the faces of my stewards, I haven't made any serious mistakes yet.

"What's the latest, Jacob?"

"None yet, Your Majesty," the guy was standing next to me, catching the slightest hint and fulfilling any wish. The people at the castle are completing the final preparations for your wedding.

"Remind me about today's schedule", I leaned back in my red leather chair and tried to look bored.

"Everything is as planned," the guy coughed, collecting his thoughts. "At ten o'clock, a light breakfast with invited guests, as well as My Lord the Right, your family, and other lords."

After waiting for a nod, the guy continued.

"Then a short rest, everyone changes clothes and prepares for the wedding in the sept."

"How long will it take?"

"About two o'clock," he caught my eye and continued. "Then you and Lady Margaery accept congratulations, then everyone leaves and rests for about an hour."

"And then, of course, the feast?" I remembered something from the canon. But damn it, I really wanted to invite a guy to the table and talk normally, like a man to a man, and not like a king to a servant. I just didn't know, and I didn't know how to behave like that.

"Oh, yes," he allowed himself a small smile. "As you know, there are seventy-seven different dishes, lots of drinks and entertainment waiting for you. And everything will continue until late at night, and until the moment when the guests will help you go to the wedding bed," he blushed.

"Speaking of entertainment... Who is responsible for them?" I yawned, showing that I didn't care about such a small thing as memorizing the master of ceremonies' name.

"Ser Ashley Groyle, Your Grace," Tallad replied. Even in this state, he realized that the king was displeased with something, and now he was eager to be useful.

Joffrey knew the name well. At least in recent days, as memory suggested, he had talked to him several times. It looks like this is the right person.

"Jacob, go and invite him. I want to talk to him."

"Of course, Your Grace," the guy nodded and left the room.

We stayed with Robert and Tallad, and all three of us felt uncomfortable. The steward was staring at the floor, Ser Tallad was wondering what was going on, and I just didn't know what to say. Anyway, what do kings do in a similar situation?

Of course, I don't know this yet, but I remember firmly that subordinates have nothing to suffer from bullshit and idleness. It's better to download them all the time, so there will be less time to think. What should I do to puzzle them?

"How is my fiancee?" I said thoughtfully.

"I think she's fine, my lord", The well-trained steward instantly joined in the conversation.

I wonder if if I start talking outright nonsense, he will also listen attentively, feigning an extreme degree of interest?

"Tell you what, Robert, go to her, ask her how she slept, how she feels, give her my best wishes and congratulate her on this wonderful day."

"I'm listening" He nodded and slipped out without a sound. Only the door slammed faintly. For a moment, the imposing figure of a knight flashed through the doorway. Fat Boros has already been replaced, and someone else has taken over the post.

Frankly speaking, I didn't know if it was customary here or not to send servants like this in the morning and inquire about the health of the future spouse. But it seemed like a good idea to me, and Robert wasn't particularly surprised. So let's assume that everything is fine.

I studiously ignored Tallad. The thought was forming more and more clearly in my head that I no longer wanted this man in my entourage. He's kind of incomprehensible and duplicitous....

"What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Ser Tallad asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Nothing."

We fell silent again.

Jacob Lidden came first and said that Ser Ashley would be here soon. I thanked him for his service and for the first time saw an expression of surprise on his face - Joffrey, apparently, did not suffer from excessive politeness.

"How are things at your place?" I asked the question, already realizing that Joffrey had never asked such a thing. But I don't care-you need to know more about the people around you than their name or the house they were born in.

The guy rolled his eyes in amazement and began timidly to tell me about the details of his biography. I listened and tried to remember.

It turned out that the Liddens are an ancient and ancient family, and they have been loyal vassals of the Lannisters for many centuries. The current head of the house is Lord Lewis. The name of their castle flashed by - Deep Hole, and their coat of arms depicts a white badger on a green-brown field.

Robert returned to say that Lady Tyrell was taking a bath, but my words and congratulations were conveyed to her, and she replied that she was very pleased with such attention and couldn't wait to see me after breakfast.

I scratched my knee, which was probably just a simple courtesy. I don't think Margaery has any sympathy for Joffrey. It was a political marriage from the very beginning. Moreover, Geoff behaved as if he specifically did not want other people to treat him kindly.

Still, I really want to see Margaery in person, evaluate her appearance and intelligence, and only then try to establish a relationship. And what the hell is not joking, maybe I'll like it?

There was a knock on the door and, after permission, Ser Ashley Groyle was let into the room - a red-cheeked, well-fed man with a polite smile on his lips in beautiful, festive clothes.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

"Good morning, Ser Ashley. How did you sleep?"

"Fine," he shifted his puzzled gaze from me to the faces of the stewards. "What can I do for you?"

"Tell us again about the evening feast. There's something I need to know."

Ser Ashley began to talk about the order of the dishes, about the seven minstrels who would perform one after the other, about the numbers of snake tamers, fire magicians and various animals.

I listened and nodded. Finally, he got to the right one.

"And then, Your Majesty, as we agreed, you will give a sign, and I will release the dwarfs with a number about the kings of Westeros."

"You know, I've changed my mind."

"I'm sorry," he blinked, fell silent, and stared at me in disbelief.

"I don't need this number at my wedding ceremony."

"But we've been preparing so much, and we've discharged these guys from Pentos itself! Lord Baelish put so much effort into this!"

It's getting more and more interesting. It seems that Littlefinger was not particularly hiding in this matter. But Geoff didn't understand what it was all about.

"I've changed my mind, sir, don't you see?" and he tried to soften the situation, seeing that he was genuinely upset - it looks like the guy really tried, organizing all this. It seems to me that their performance will be too vulgar.

"Everything is clear," he sighed resignedly.

"What are you upset about? Don't be afraid, speak up."

"I'll have to pay them a penalty." The master of ceremonies muttered.

"How much?"

"Sixteen dragons, Your Grace."

"During the day, my steward will bring you this money."

"Thank you, sir," he smiled, bowed deeply, and left.

Perhaps now he will think that I am not a completely bad person, since I have undertaken to compensate for his expenses.

I went into the room, opened the safe, rummaged through the pouches and selected a handful of gold coins.

Popular rumor is reluctant to part with beloved and familiar names. The dragon is a gold coin of the Targaryen dynasty, as their coat of arms had a three-headed dragon, which was minted on one side. The second one featured the profile of the reigning king.

The Targaryen rule ended seventeen years ago. Robert Baratheon issued his own coin, which was of identical weight, but had a crowned stag on one side and his profile on the other. But the name itself, the dragon, remains the same.

I think that now the Treasury should start issuing a new coin with a coat of arms in the form of a deer and a lion, and Joffrey's profile on the other side.

It turned out that there were currently three different types of the same dragon in circulation, not counting the earlier Targaryen coins. There were mostly coins with Robert's profile in my safe. I handed sixteen of them to Jacob with orders to take them to Ser Ashley.

They began to dress me. It's a common thing for Joffrey, but I felt awkward-you have to get used to it.

Ser Tallad stepped out into the hall.

Fortunately, I wasn't forced to try on my entire wardrobe. As it became clear, Joffrey (or his mother) has already approved three different costumes for the whole day. In the morning, I was dressed in a thin silk shirt, a light brown caftan with embroidered lions and deer, velvet trousers with gold plaques on the outer seam, a rich belt and soft fabric boots with low heels. A jewel-encrusted dagger scabbard was hung on the belt. I pulled it out and looked at it - it looks like a very good metal with a wavy pattern. I don't know, maybe that's what Valyrian steel looks like. I'll check it out soon. The knife was very sharp - I checked it on the nail, but still it's more of a status decoration than a weapon.

I looked at myself in the mirror and was very pleased with what I saw. Even though the body is someone else's and you still have to get used to it, it's still nice to know that I'm a handsome guy here.