The Young Monarch

Prologue

"Are you sure you want these materials, my Prince?"

Young Joffrey Baratheon gave the tinker a look of pure disgust. Of course I want these materials you stupid fool, if I didn't I wouldn't give you a Golden Dragon for it. Prince Joffrey refused to even answer the tinker's question and instead yanked the very small jar away from him and dropped the golden coin onto the floor with visceral disgust. Joffrey smirked as this old tinker without a trace of dignity dropped down onto his knees and picked up the coin in the snow.

It was not long until the feast. Thank the Seven. Joffrey began walking towards his surly dog, the burnt out fearsome sworn shield of his, Sandor Clegane. Joffrey looked at the huge well-built warrior of his, and he could not help to respect the fact that his dog was clever enough to refuse a knighthood. No man would ever call such a creature such as this a knight. Nonetheless the Prince liked the fact that Clegane never asked questions and always obeyed his every command without question. Clegane had done this as he looked at the Prince with a curt stare and without uttering a single word he followed the Prince as they walked towards the fearsome gates of the castle they called Winterfell.

Winterfell, now that is an apt name. The castle impressed even him and looked a deep, dark foreboding structure compared to the dour white snow that littered all throughout the accursed North. Prince Joffrey had spent an entire month riding in absolute boredom as his father, the great conqueror King Robert Baratheon, felt the need to visit his childhood friend Lord Eddard Stark. Why he would have the need to visit this frozen Hellhole only the Gods know. The journey was dull, the company even worse. Joffrey was sick to death of seeing his little pretty sister Myrcella, or his childish baby brother Tommen. His Mother bore a permanent scowl during the journey, her golden twin Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard looked like he wanted to stab anyone for any reason. Not like I do not know how that feels, I want to do the same. Joffrey's ugly dwarf Uncle Tyrion Lannister was the only one aside from Father who looked the least bit amused about the journey, telling stupid jokes that only Myrcella and Tommen were stupid enough to laugh at. That was only an act. Tyrion only told those jokes to cheer up his brother. Joffrey smiled at that thought because the imp failed at that task and Ser Jaime never softened at all during the trek up North.

Joffrey would not have felt so angry if the trip was worthwhile. It wasn't. As they arrived to the great castle called Winterfell, only a small band of hideous Northman greeted them. Lord Eddard Stark looked distinctively unimpressive, a bearded man of average height, build and probably below average wit. How that one killed Ser Arthur Dayne is a mystery. Tales were told of Lord Stark's courage and bravery during the war and the subsequent rebellion by the Kraken's. But that was many a year ago. This old man looks worse than useless now. Stark was accompanied by his old wife, and their gaggle of ugly children. Not all are ugly though. Whilst Robb Stark, the name a pathetic attempt to curry favour to my father no doubt, stared grimly at him, whilst his ugly sister Arya Stark looked like a horse, Brandon Stark looked like a squirrel, and Rickon Stark a mere boring babe, Sansa Stark did look pretty with her tall legs, innocent face, lovely smile and red fiery hair. It won't be the only fire I see tonight.

Joffrey remembered as the Stark's and his house stared at each other and stood around awkwardly as his father quickly ran towards the Stark's crypt and paid his respects to that woman with Lord Stark. Joffrey could never understand why a legendary warrior like his Father would be interested in some Northern girl. She must have been a rare wench to be so worthwhile. The former Crown Prince named Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty instead of his Dornish wife, and then a war were fought between them and neither man got her as Lyanna died anyway. Life is full of disappointments, like this one right here. Joffrey was disgusted he had to be a part of this mummer's farce as his father chased long dead ghosts, but he had a plan to brighten up the night. Joffrey laughed softly to himself, his hired hand paying no heed to his laughs and he went inside and prepared for the night ahead.

The Crown Prince took his time as he had a hot bath and then put on his finest red singlet; Joffrey chose this one as it had pockets stitched into the fine velvet. Joffrey's entire thought process throughout was how funny it would be tonight. He spied the contents in the jar. He sniggered as he imagined what would happen if it was set alight in the feast hall. Joffrey wanted to see everyone suffer as the bright flame engulf them all. He wanted to see pretty little Sansa cry as this wonderful night turn out badly for her. He wanted to see Lord Stark's embarrassment as his feast went to cinders. He wanted everyone to feel his pain for having to endure such a boring trip North. The substance was apparently some variant of wildfire. Not as strong, or as temperamental, but it would burn. Aye, and burn nice and quickly. Joffrey was ready for the evening's activities by the time some pock marked squire whose name he couldn't recall summoned him for the feast. He smiled and asked for a moment's privacy, the foolish squire accepted and that gave the Prince time to smuggle the very small Jar into his pocket.

By the door of the old Feast Hall everyone who was important was ready. His mother looked radiant with her emeralds as Lord Stark escorted her onto the dais. The Queen gave her host the contempt he deserved and clearly gave him no attention whatsoever. Next was his father who with more courtesy escorted Lady Stark and gave her a surprisingly gentle smile, it was no secret his Father enjoyed the company of whores but it was strange to see him look so dignified around a lady as renowned as Catelyn Stark. Being polite for his precious friend I wager. Unlike his mother, Lady Stark gave a respectful smile back to her monarch. Joffrey then smiled as the little babe Stark waddled towards the dais. The boy's tiny steps reminded him of his Uncle Tyrion waddling, but then his smile grew even larger as he realised that Stark will eventually grow into a man, whereas Tyrion was stuck as a dwarf forever. Joffrey's smile curdled as Myrcella, who admittedly looked lovely with her Golden hair and genuinely exquisite Emerald green dress, looked at Robb Stark with a timid smile on her lips. No Northman is worthy of you. Robb Stark smiled a sickeningly sweet smile back and they walked together to the dais arms linked and staring right into the others eyes. Joffrey felt pure rage. I will burn him first. Wouldn't even be the first Stark burnt. Joffrey remembered his father telling him about the war, and always remembered him purpling with rage as he discussed how the Mad King burnt Lord Rickard Stark as he had his eldest son strangled. Aerys murdered the Stark's because he could, and Father took his crown because he could. Joffrey smiled as he fingered inside his pocket. I will burn you Robb Stark simply because I can.

It was now Prince Joffrey's turn to approach the main feast table, and he gracefully held his arm out for Lady Sansa Stark, who looked so sweet, so pure as she looked into his eyes dreamingly. Joffrey smiled back at her. Keep smiling dear; keep smiling as your brother will burn into a crisp. Joffrey fingered his pocket once more and they linked together and walked to the table. The Crown Prince did not even give any of the Northern heathens the satisfaction of even giving a single glance towards them; instead focusing his gaze on Myrcella's dreamy eyes on the loathsome Stark lad. Joffrey could not stop staring at that boy. He wanted nothing more than to see him melt before his eyes. His rage was not all-encompassing though; he turned his head slightly and could see his mother give him a non-approving look. Joffrey realised that his loathing was visible to everyone else. As if I care. Joffrey's rage briefly included his mother's silent scolding. That bitch will have her day too.

Joffrey and Sansa sat down on the high table and Joffrey could barely focus on the younger children walking to the table, or his Uncle's and that other dour Northman walking to the table. Even the sight of Tyrion waddling towards the dais did not raise even a smirk on the Crown Prince's face. Joffrey did not care and wanted only for the tedium of this feast to end. Joffrey debated in his head whether to merely burn Robb Stark or to burn the entirety of the feast hall down. Decisions, decisions. This was the most important decision he had ever made to that point. The Prince no longer wanted to be merely a little boy with a little boy's tastes. He was twelve now and wanted to be a man. I need to be a man now.

Joffrey was sick of his father ignoring him and wanted to show him what he could do. It isn't the first time though. Joffrey remembered as a young babe cutting open a pregnant cat and giving her unborn babe's to his Father. Joffrey never forgot the punch that Father gave him. Joffrey remembered the blood and the baby tooth that he spat out of his mouth. But he mostly remembered that aside from Mother no one did anything about it. Uncle Stannis looked so embarrassed that he looked like he would have gladly have jumped into any hole he could find, and even Mother's brother, all Ser Jaime did was escort both he and Mother out of the room. Nobody talks about it, especially not Father but they all remember. One day that will be me. I shall be the one nobody ever questions. Once Joffrey had murdered Stark, even if his Father did not know it was him, he would know. Father will know that I have become a man, and he will treat me as such.

But would killing a mere boy give him any satisfaction? If Joffrey poured the substance sneakily on a curtain, therefore the ensuring fire would be considered an accident and will kill many more people, but if Robb Stark was burnt on his own….Would even Robb Stark's stupid Father and stupid Mother think it would be an accident? A small smirk emerged on Joffrey's face. It would not matter if they suspect me or not. His Father was King Robert Baratheon, the conqueror and most powerful man in Westeros. Eddard Stark was merely a Northerner, a lord that lorded over a frozen wasteland and a small band of heathens and savages. The very idea that Eddard Stark could even avenge his son against the entire might of the South was laughable. No, I shall burn Robb Stark. Let Lord Stark see my power.

Joffrey now considered when he would strike. The servants were moving the plates across the main table as a stream of music began playing. Joffrey again stared as Myrcella was staring love-struck at that stinky Northerner. The Prince was stunned that such a high-born girl could feel anything other than disgust and contempt at a Northerner. She is a dumb stupid girl, she has no taste. As Joffrey brooded in his thoughts, he could hear Sansa making noise into his ear but he refused to listen to the nattering of a little girl. Joffrey bided his time and waited for an opportune moment to make his move.

Everyone was eating the first course of food, a collection of roasted Turkey's. Joffrey smiled as he spied the cooked carcasses. These things were once living animals. However as Joffrey did not fail to note, the Turkey's once had heads and a bunch of feathers throughout their bodies. I wonder if this is what Stark will look like after I burn him. The Crown Prince was growing further and further impatient. He was practically salivating at the thought; he was fingering the jar with greater anxiety. He was rubbing the jar up and down on his soft hand and as a tiny drop fell onto his hand, he saw Robb Stark staring stiffly at him. Joffrey was angry at the audacity of this fool staring back at him but his eye's positively brightened when he saw a great candle besides where Stark was sitting. Perfect, it is time to do this now.

Joffrey stood up from his seat on the great bench and walked over towards the young Stark, his eyes trying in vain to avoid looking at the ginormous candle, but the naked flame tempted the young Prince and his eyes glared at the flame greedily. Joffrey just needed to get the substance of the small jar on Stark's clothes and 'accidentally' nudge him towards that candle. Joffrey could not wait any further and as he spied Stark he got the jar on his hand ready. He saw Stark and gave him a sweet smile. This smile will be last thing you'll ever see Stark. He got the jar firmly on his hand as his own shoulder was almost touching the candle. But as Joffrey prepared the jar he noticed that the inside of his pockets were soaking wet. Oh no. Joffrey got his hand out and lo and behold it was soaking wet. His hand drenched with the substance. Robb Stark just looked at him with a vacant expression. Joffrey panicked and as he was looking around at everyone: Tommen looked confused, Myrcella concerned and Mother clearly embarrassed by his antics.

Joffrey could only cough out: "Don't feel well, need to go bed." Joffrey turned his head but as he did his shoulder dropped the candle right onto his hand.

It came at once. Joffrey never knew such pain existed. The extremely hot searing substance gobbled up the naked flame from the great candle like a gluttonous child devouring a meal and Joffrey immediately screamed from the pain. Everything in the great hall stopped at once, or at least seemed too. The music died abruptly and all eyes were on him, he could see his Mother and then his little brother screaming, but all Joffrey could hear was the sound of his own screams. Joffrey began to run but as he smashed his burning hand desperately over his singlet trying in vain to stop the burning, he suddenly remembered that the substance came from his pocket and poured itself all over it. Too late.

His entire singlet shot up in flames and the pain magnified tenfold. Joffrey could not think coherent thoughts and he just released great screams of anguish. Joffrey ran as fast as his weakening skin would let him and as he held on to a curtain to keep him upright that too went up in flames. Joffrey fell on the ground and no longer had the strength to even scream. Joffrey could hear everyone else screaming and saw that it was not just he that was in flames, the curtain fire caught alight the other decorations in the room. All Joffrey could see was a great stampede of feet as everyone in the feast hall desperately tried to evacuate the building. Joffrey could see his mother being dragged away kicking and screaming by his taller uncle. Joffrey would have felt outrage if he could feel anything other than pain.

It grew even hotter and Joffrey saw the wooden tables being set alight. He saw Tommen passed out from the smoke. Joffrey saw scenes of wonder, Myrcella dragging out both Sansa and the horse-girl with rapid speed from the dais, he saw everyone crying and shrieking in agony. The darkness closed in, but Joffrey could still make out "Tommen!" It was Father's voice, there was anguish and grief in his voice, "Don't die on me Tommen please!" But Father my name is Joffrey. But before Joffrey could speak in protest, he saw in his dimming vision a support pillar collapsed onto his Father's head, crushing his head immediately, and saw the body of Tommen falling aggressively from Father's arms and thud down onto the ground. Joffrey heard the sounds and knew that the both of them were dead. I am King. But before Joffrey could say a single solitary word, silence and darkness enveloped him and despite the flames that engulfed him it felt oh so cold.