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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.
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