Chapter 19
JOFFREY BARATHEON
Jealousy. Greed.
That was what his brother represented to him. Steffon Baratheon, named after their grandfather, had always been the golden child of the family, wishing to overshadow him all their life.
Anything Joffrey ever did, Steffon had to be better at it. If he spoke a word, Steffon would blurt out two. Joffrey would walk, then Steffon would run. The game had been going on for as long as he could remember, and every time he had turned his head to stare back at his younger twin, he would find out that the bastard had overtaken him one way or another.
Joffrey heard the whispers. He had always heard them. The servants. The maids. The guards. He heard them all and how they praised his brother, and lamented that he had not been born earlier than him. How the Kingdom would be far better if Steffon Baratheon had been the heir instead of him.
Their whispers. They angered him. But it was not just the servants and those maids that dared to utter such filth. No.
His own family much preferred that bastard to him. Their siblings loved Steffon much more than him, and would always run to him any chance they could get. It was better though for he did not much care about those little monsters either, yet his parents were no different.
The only time his father had ever paid him any attention was when he would get angry enough to hit him, and yet for Steffon, he would even go to the yard and see him practise with the knights. He would laugh, smile, and beam with pride at his accomplishments while Joffrey was left shunned in that overarching shadow of his brother.
That had been his life for the first twelve years, but then one day, suddenly, he was gone. He had fallen ill, and Joffrey had found himself in the Sept praying to the Stranger that he might rid him of his brother. The Stranger had answered his prayer, though he had spared his brother's life.
Instead, he was sent to their grandfather at Casterly Rock, and Joffrey had thought that with him gone, the attention would turn to him. That the laughs and the praises would now be his.
But it was not meant to be.
The King raged for some time, and came to watch him in the yard but once and left, leaving behind a whisper of 'disappointment'. The Queen would take years to rid herself of the sorrow of sending her favored child away, while his siblings would bawl out their eyes in misery, and Joffrey was left alone once more.
But it did not matter. He did not need them. He did not need their approval or their praise. He needed no one, for he was destined to be the King.
And nothing could change that. Until his brother returned from Casterly Rock. The news was as much of a surprise as his leaving, and their Royal Father had decided to go to that wasteland up in the North to get himself a new Hand.
A waste, for he could have simply offered the position to any Lord in the castle, and yet he wanted to give it to a barbarian all the way up in the North. It was both a disgrace and a waste of time, but the King wished for them all to go to that wasteland.
And all of them included Steffon as well, who returned to the Capitol. And once more, Joffrey saw the moods turn, the gazes shift, and the whispers come alive. Yet this time they were not children.
No. They were Princes, and their implications were clear.
His brother had his eyes on his throne. He may have never uttered the words himself, but those around him uttered them nonetheless, and now he was building himself an army.
"What?" he asked, and while his brother had his own set of supporters, there were many who still followed the laws set forth by the Gods and saw his twin for the overreaching, and greedy bastard that he was.
"I believe the men you asked me to search for are all dead," and the words took a second to register, and a moon had passed since he had killed that whore to send a message to his brother.
He had heard that he had visited that brothel once more now, and so he had asked for those men once again so that they could find out which whore he had chosen for himself now, so he could make the lesson stick, but none of the men from before could be found.
So, he had called on the Spider once more and could not believe his answer.
"How?" he asked, and the bald man looked him in the eye and remained silent for a few seconds.
"What? Speak up, you fool, or I will have your tongue," and he finally nodded.
"Well, I believe the answer is rather obvious, my Prince. The person who killed those men was none other than your own brother," and indeed, who else would dare lay a hand on his men?
"But they were my men? Who would dare touch them?" and the Spider sat in his chair as Joffrey paced in the room, seething with rage.
"Well, usually that would be true, but I am afraid your brother has found a way to work around that condition," and now Joffrey's interest was piqued.
"What do you mean by that?" he questioned, as his head snapped towards the bald man in one quick motion.
"After the last incident, your brother has found himself a new set of guards willing to do his bidding," and Joffrey ground his teeth at that.
"How? Where did he get the money for that?" and hiring guards was not easy, and he would have needed gold for that.
"Well, I believe the new Master of Coin chose to reward the Prince rather handsomely for his help in sorting out the Crown's ledgers. I believe he was offered nearly all of the traitor's personal businesses, making him a rather wealthy man," and so his brother had his own gold apart from their Royal allowance.
But what else should he have expected out of that little Imp, and now he wondered if this entire thing had been a plot.
"How many?" he questioned while frowning.
"What, my Prince?" and he was beginning to get frustrated with the Spider and his stupidity.
"How many men does my brother have?" he hated being forced to repeat himself.
"Well, it is hard to give you the exact number, but I would say somewhere around five hundred," and that was way greater than he had expected.
"Five hundred? How could the Crown even let him hire such a large force!" Joffrey raged, and the number of guards and knights a House had in the Capitol was regulated, and having any substantial armed force required the seal of the King or his Hand.
"Well, he is not exactly hiring them for himself. These men are employed at his establishments, and with a tourney coming up, the capital is filled with hedge knights and squires wishing to endear themselves to a Prince of the realm," and Joffrey was not stupid.
He saw this for exactly what it was.
"These are not guards, you fool," Joffrey raged at that bald oaf.
"He is building himself an army," and the Spider's eyes widened in shock as he made a round face.
"Oh," and now the man finally realised his brother's true plans.
"He has finally shown his true colors," and he had always known this. Always.
Steffon was nothing more than a pretender. An envious pig who sought to steal his birthright. He wanted to be King. He was an honorless cur just like those Blackfyres had been, but Joffrey would never let him succeed.
He would see his brother hanged for this. He would see him exiled.
"I apologise for my failure in seeing the plot, my Prince. I just never thought that the Prince would dare do such a thing," and he was good at pretending.
"I do not blame you for this. Such plots can only be seen by special minds," and Joffrey was meant for great things.
"Of course, my Prince. But what are we to do now?" questioned that fool.
"We need to expose him," he answered.
"I want you to gather the evidence of my brother's actions. I want you to find the men who killed my guards, and then we will reveal my brother's plot to the entire realm," and the King and the Hand were set to return in a day, and Joffrey would have his brother humiliated in front of them all.
"As you wish, my Prince," and with that, the bald eunuch rose and bowed his head.
"I also want you to keep an eye on my brother, and what he is doing," and who was he defy of him.
"And you tell no one else about this. No one," and he did not know who he could trust. The spider had proven his loyalty when he had first brought to him the rumors about some servants and lords wishing to replace him as heir.
He had also helped him keep an eye on his brother, and so he could trust the bastard, but everyone else was ensnared by his glistening reputation. Only he saw the dark truth hidden underneath, and he still carried the scars from trying to expose the monster that was Steffon Baratheon.
"As you wish, my Prince," and with that, the man left him alone in his chambers as Joffrey began to pace, in both worry and excitement. Of all the things he could accuse his brother of, Steffon acted fast.
He had been in the Capitol for but a few moons, and already he had put one of his men on the Council and built himself an army. He was good, but Joffrey was better. He was the one with the birthright, and he would not let him rob that.
"You will pay for this, you traitor," Joffrey whispered, as he drowned a cup of wine and lay in his bed.
With his men dead, he would have to look for new ones to get the girl, but that would have to be done tomorrow. It was already too late to do such a thing, and so he lay in his bed and closed his eyes.
He was tired enough that sleep came quickly, but soon enough, he found himself getting disturbed by a knock at his door.
"WHO IS IT!" he screamed, in rage as he stirred slightly, and it was the Spider's voice.
"It is me Varys, my Prince. We must speak at once," and Joffrey was awake already, and the room was drenched in absolute darkness.
"Come in then," and he prayed for the man that he had disturbed him for good reason, or he would have his head on a pike tomorrow, and the man walked in with a lamp in his hand.
He rubbed his eyes as the bald bastard came and stood infront of him.
"Why in the Seven Hells have you chosen to disturb me this late into the Night?" he raged, and the man lowered his head.
"I am afraid the news was rather urgent, my Prince," and he snarled.
"What news was so important that you could not wait until the morning to deliver it?" Joffrey questioned, and the man finally raised his head, and his eyes appeared more purple than ever in that candlelight as he made a rather strange face.
"Well, I believe the whole castle will wake soon enough, but I believe that it was best that you hear this first," and now he was truly intrigued about what kind of news would force the entire castle to get up at such an ungodly hour.
"Spit out already!"
"There is no better way of saying this, but I am afraid the King, your father, Robert Baratheon, is dead....."
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