"Your Highness, it is time we departed."
Hanna, her cheeks still flushed from their recent intimacies, gently nudged the slumbering prince.
Joffrey rolled onto his side, drawing the girl into his arms. "If we must go, then we must. The carriage will proceed regardless of our readiness."
He felt a certain satisfaction with the body he now inhabited. Though only twelve years of age, he already stood nearly five-foot-ten, with a frame that promised impressive development. Perhaps, he mused, this unexpected vigor stemmed from the restorative magic he had begun to master?
Hanna's hesitation was palpable. "It would be most... unfortunate... if Lord Tywin were to discover us thus."
Indeed. Joffrey suddenly recalled that today had been set aside for a proper audience with his maternal grandfather, Tywin Lannister.
The eternal Hand of the King, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West—Tywin Lannister, a man who carried himself with the bearing of a king despite lacking a crown. Titles of impressive grandeur, all.
The convoy advanced with military precision along the Gold Road.
Lord Tywin rode at its head, his posture impeccable, spine straight as a sword blade. His crimson armor, adorned with intricate golden patterns, caught the sunlight like living flame. A brooch fashioned as a golden lion secured a blood-red half-cape at his left shoulder, completing an image of undeniable authority.
Even Joffrey, following several lengths behind, had to acknowledge the extraordinary presence his grandfather commanded—a demeanor befitting a man who had, in all but name, ruled the Seven Kingdoms during his tenure as Hand.
During a brief respite from the road, Lord Tywin seated himself amidst several high-ranking lords and knights of the Westerlands.
Joffrey approached with measured steps.
Ser Addam Marbrand, ever courteous, rose to greet him. "Your Highness, how may we serve you this fine day?"
Joffrey recognized him instantly—a talented and charismatic commander of the new generation from the Westerlands. "My lords, I have matters of import to discuss with my lord grandfather. I must beg your indulgence and ask for privacy."
All eyes turned toward Lord Tywin, awaiting his command.
"You heard the Prince," Tywin stated, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon Joffrey's face.
The open wilderness provided an ideal setting for exchanging sensitive information—no walls to conceal listening servants, no tapestries behind which spies might lurk.
Joffrey dispensed with pleasantries. "Grandfather may not be aware, but Ser Jaime Lannister is, in truth, my father."
The most mundane tone conveying the most explosive revelation.
Lord Tywin's brow furrowed with sudden violence, like storm clouds gathering over a summer sea.
"Joffrey, have you taken leave of your senses? How dare you utter such vile slander in my presence!"
Without hesitation, Joffrey deployed his second revelation.
"In fact, Lord Jon Arryn has already uncovered this truth and conspires even now with Lord Stannis Baratheon."
Joffrey observed his grandfather's reaction with careful scrutiny. Though Tywin's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, his eyes remained unnaturally calm.
As I suspected, Joffrey thought. Lord Tywin knows everything.
The reason for bringing such a substantial entourage to King's Landing, and for wearing full armor on the return journey—these precautions likely stemmed from awareness of Jaime and Cersei's forbidden relationship.
But did you know this as well, Grandfather?
Joffrey played his final card. "Lord Jon Arryn will succumb to poison within a matter of days, dying in excruciating pain yet with full awareness of the truth he carries to his grave."
Lord Tywin abruptly rose to his feet.
In the span of several heartbeats, countless possibilities appeared to race through his formidable mind. Calamity loomed inevitably on the horizon.
Yet in the end, Lord Tywin seated himself once more with deliberate calm.
"Enough of this nonsense, Joffrey. If you insist on fabricating tales, at least construct them with some semblance of plausibility."
He didn't dismiss me outright, Joffrey noted. He's listening. This is a test of my knowledge and intentions.
"Grandfather, every man harbors secrets. I have simply... matured more rapidly than expected."
Joffrey approached the conversation as a negotiation, nothing more.
"In truth, Grandfather need not be overly concerned, for I also know that Lord Jon Arryn will carry this secret to his pyre. King Robert remains blissfully ignorant."
"Joffrey, you speak only to yourself."
Joffrey sighed with carefully calculated sorrow. "Grandfather—Lord Tywin—must we communicate solely through falsehoods and evasions?"
Tywin fell silent for a measured moment. Who, before this day, would have dared to mention the whispered rumors concerning the 'Golden Twins' in his presence? Not even the Crown Prince would have shown such audacity!
Yet when faced with matters of life and death for House Lannister, such concerns became secondary.
The Lion of the Rock appeared to issue a command. "Continue."
Joffrey felt remarkably at ease.
The current circumstances offered greater safety than he had known in days. Surrounded by Lannisters—Cersei, Jaime, and Tywin himself—he stood among kin, however complicated that kinship might be.
Provided he refrained from revealing the full extent of his knowledge, who among them would desire his death?
Joffrey prepared to weave another carefully constructed fabrication.
"The gods have blessed—or perhaps cursed—me with dreams of unusual clarity. Within these visions, I have glimpsed certain... secrets."
"Initially, I dared not credit such phantasms. Yet recent events have confirmed several scenes from these dreams with uncanny precision."
Meeting Tywin's penetrating gaze, Joffrey experienced no trace of guilt or discomfort.
"As a young lion of Lannister, I naturally must consider our family's interests. I cannot simply observe as opportunities slip through our grasp."
"Grandfather, the status of House Lannister for the next thousand years may well depend upon your decision today."
Tywin harbored numerous questions, but at this critical juncture, burdened with responsibility for an entire dynasty, he could ill afford to become entangled in minor details.
"What do you propose? What else have you seen?"
"Grandfather, a great upheaval, unprecedented in a thousand years, approaches like a storm on the horizon. The Seven Kingdoms have existed under Targaryen unification for nearly three centuries. From the highest lords to the lowest smallfolk, all have gradually come to regard these realms as a single entity."
In many respects, Joffrey reflected, the Targaryen dynasty resembled the Qin dynasty of his former world—albeit less centralized and considerably longer-lived.
"The supreme authority symbolized by the Iron Throne possesses power sufficient to drive men to madness. The Baratheons now sit the throne—why not another family in their stead?"
Joffrey adopted an expression of utmost solemnity.
"The great lords will soon recognize that times have changed irrevocably."
"The coming conflict will share nothing with the restrained warfare practiced by the Andal kings of old, nor will it observe the boundaries established under the dragons' shadow. This war shall destroy everything in its path! Root and branch! Countless 'Rains of Castamere' shall echo throughout the land!"
He paused briefly, mastering the surge of emotion within his breast.
"In such circumstances, why not seize the opportunity to fundamentally transform the realm? Do the Seven Kingdoms truly require so many high lords and wardens? Must the minor lords continue to govern their holdings independently?"
"Does the name 'Seven Kingdoms' retain any meaning whatsoever?! Are we not, in truth, a single kingdom beneath the Iron Throne?!"
Even Lord Tywin, that most imperturbable of men, appeared momentarily shaken. The boy possesses ambitions beyond anything I might have imagined!
Having established the proper atmosphere, Joffrey proceeded immediately to the enticement.
"House Lannister need not confine its aspirations to the Westerlands! Grandfather, does Highgarden not tempt you? The Reach, with its unparalleled fertility and prosperity, currently held by House Tyrell—might it not serve better under the lion's paw?"
Lord Tywin, however, displayed minimal reaction to this provocation. "Spare me flowery rhetoric and provide something of practical value."
Joffrey unveiled his strategy without further delay.
"War shall erupt within the year! Grandfather would be well-advised to make early preparations—stockpiling armor and weapons, expanding the standing forces under his command."
"Following Lord Jon Arryn's demise, the King will journey northward to Winterfell, intent upon securing Lord Eddard Stark as the new Hand. Simultaneously, he will arrange my betrothal to Lord Eddard's eldest daughter."
"Securing the direwolf's allegiance equates to gaining the support of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale in a single stroke."
"The King will meet his end at precisely the most advantageous moment."
"With the combined strength of four kingdoms plus the Crownlands at our disposal, we shall first eliminate Stannis and Renly, then turn our attention to the Reach, and finally bring Dorne to heel through intimidation. The Seven Kingdoms shall become our exclusive domain!"
"A single impediment remains."
Joffrey found the entire scheme satisfactory, save for this solitary, vexing complication. "My parentage."
"Numerous individuals in King's Landing eagerly await the opportunity to employ this secret as a means to foment chaos throughout the Seven Kingdoms. We cannot afford to antagonize House Stark and thereby provide our enemies with such an opening."
Lord Tywin maintained his noncommittal demeanor.
Joffrey continued, stating the primary purpose behind this conversation.
"After Lady Lysa administers poison to the Hand, she will retreat to the Vale with her son, sealing herself within the Eyrie's impregnable walls. Yet she will also dispatch a secret missive to the Starks, at Littlefinger's instigation, falsely accusing our family of orchestrating the Hand's murder."
"This letter may accompany the King's entourage northward to Winterfell, or circumstances might necessitate alterations. Will she employ a raven? Send a verbal message through trusted agents? I cannot predict with certainty."
"Grandfather," Joffrey offered a slight smile, "you possess the means to intercept such communications, do you not?"
Lord Tywin's expression revealed nothing, giving no indication whether he credited or dismissed Joffrey's remarkable assertions.
"Joffrey, I shall not pry into the source of your information. Perhaps it is better so. I will personally verify the accuracy of what you have shared. If your words prove true,"
The old lion regarded the young lion draped in stag's hide with newfound interest.
"I shall defend our family with all resources at my command."
Jaime, Cersei, Tyrion—which among them could serve as my heir? Where are my worthy grandchildren?
"Remember your blood, Joffrey. Lions stand stronger and more formidable than stags. Remember our words: 'Hear Me Roar!'"
Might Joffrey himself present a viable option after all?
Watching his grandfather's tall figure recede in the distance, Joffrey experienced an unexpected surge of security.
"Undertake no significant actions before the King's death, Grandfather."
Truly worthy of being called the king of the pride, Joffrey reflected.
He found himself experiencing an unfamiliar sense of belonging to House Lannister—a feeling both strange and comforting.
As the convoy resumed its journey, Joffrey returned to his carriage. Idly kneading the soft, pliant cheeks of his little maid, he fell into contemplation.
Lord Tywin had proven surprisingly receptive to direct communication. Today's objective had been achieved with gratifying success. With this matter satisfactorily addressed, he need not fear for his immediate safety during the coming years, allowing him to develop his plans properly.
Taking an optimistic view, conquering the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros seemed merely a question of time and patience.
As for what might lie beyond Westeros...
He lowered his head, finding Hanna's warm, soft body a pleasant distraction from his weighty thoughts.
The stratagem he had set in motion represented only a minor maneuver, unlikely to significantly influence the broader situation. Nevertheless, its success would provide additional advantages.
Arryn, the outcome now rests with you. Fortune favor your endeavors.