# The Wind of Change. book 1. Part 1.1

Аноним Скальдъ

The new Jofri is thinking about the future.

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.