[28] Developments of King Joffrey

Chapter 28: Developments of King Joffrey

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It had been nearly a week of hunting in Kingswood and its nearby region, although mostly the latter since I didn’t want to encounter the Velaryon House again. I’d not have any excuses if I encountered them again, so I roamed the free fields around the area instead. Needless to say, that meant my levels grew far slower since there were only livestock and occasional wolves outside the forest.

But I was Level 23 now, and that was much better than when I’d left for King’s Landing.

Now, I was approaching the towering walls of the city again. The sight was familiar even if I’d only seen it once in recent times. Perhaps that was also why it felt suffocating. Its chaotic, filthy streets stretched out before me as I passed through the gates, the black wig itchy against my scalp.

Ever since my Valyrian blood strengthened a week ago, my silver hair had become a liability. Wearing the wig felt like a necessary annoyance, but it was one I begrudgingly accepted.

Thankfully, the guards barely paid me any attention as I blended into the crowd.

Or so I thought.

“Oi, you,” a familiar voice called, stopping me in my tracks.

I tensed, turning to see none other than Bronn, the sellsword-turned-commander of the city watch. His sharp eyes swept over me, narrowing slightly before a sly grin spread across his face.

“Don’t I know you?” Bronn drawled, his tone half-serious, half-mocking. “You’re that fella who hangs about with the priestess, yeah? Nyra, was it?”

I forced a casual smile, my hand twitching slightly as I adjusted the bag slung over my shoulder. “Ah, yes. That is the case. I’ve been traveling for a bit, trying to do some odd jobs for coin.”

Bronn chuckled, stepping closer. “Aye? What, you got bored of that bombshell priestess already? Or did she kick you out? Seems a waste to leave someone like her all alone.”

I shrugged, masking my irritation with a faint smirk. “Let’s just say I’ve had my reasons. And you seem to have moved up in the world, Bronn.” I gestured to the man’s armor, the insignia of the city watch polished to a gleam.

Bronn grinned, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Aye, well. Someone’s gotta keep this city from tearing itself apart. Might as well be me.” He stepped aside, waving me through. “Go on, then. Don’t let me keep you. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye out. City’s… not as friendly as it used to be.”

I nodded, my steps measured as I passed. Relief washed over me as Bronn didn’t press further. I was glad to put some distance between us. “Phew,” I muttered under my breath as I slipped deeper into the city, heading straight for my small mansion.

Whether he noticed the wig and chose not to comment or simply missed it, I wasn’t sure. The Inventory had been invaluable for storing the wig and other necessities, but I was growing tired of relying on it.

****

The mansion was eerily quiet when I arrived. I pushed open the door, my brows furrowing as I called out. “Kinvara? Nymeria? Tyene? Anyone?”

The lack of response grated on my nerves. Kinvara, as usual, was off somewhere doing her “priestess work.” Commendable, I supposed, but damnably inconvenient. And the Martell girls? Likely wandering the city, oblivious to the risks.

I sighed, pulling off the wig and tossing it onto a chair. “A wig,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. “A Targaryen, reduced to wearing a wig like some common actor. Ridiculous.”

Of course, it hadn’t been an issue before, but since I had a better alternative—Kinvara’s magic—it felt a little insulting. The modern man in me knew it was a stupid thing to feel, but the Viserys in me disagreed.

With nothing better to do, my thoughts turned to Ros. The brothel was a short walk away, and visiting her would be a good way to kill time, plus it was close to the time that I secured her loyalty. I put on the wig once again.

I slipped through the crowd filled streets, and found myself in front of Littlefinger’s Brothel. The brothel was lively when I walked in, the chatter of girls and the occasional burst of laughter filling the air, though something about the energy felt subdued. The whores’ laughter felt forced today. As I stepped inside, the noise shifted.

Some of the laughter dimmed, and heads turned to regard me with expressions ranging from curiosity to unease. The scent of heavy perfume mixed with alcohol hung in the air like a haze, and I searched for the familiar girls through it.

One of the girls, again the same blonde who had teased me before, blinked in surprise when she caught sight of me. Except today, she didn’t look very delighted. Her expression was something more subdued.

“Hey, you,” I called, and she blinked.

"Ah… I’ll call Ros right away," she said, her voice quieter than usual. She turned and scurried off, leaving me to survey the room.

Something felt off. There was an eerie undercurrent, a tension in the air that was hard to ignore, as if everyone was waiting for something to go wrong. Was King’s Landing going through such harsh times? The vibrant chaos of the brothel felt muted today, it was like a painting stripped of its color.

Moments later, Ros came rushing out, her expression solemn, though it lit up when she saw me. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “Let’s head to a room. Now.”

I raised a brow but followed her without protest. Once inside, Ros locked the door behind us before turning, her face pale, her hands trembling. Before I could ask, she threw herself into my arms, her body shaking as she clung to me.

Isn’t this girl being way too clingy? That’s not good given how our relationship will change soon, I noted as I parted my lips. “Ros?” I asked, keeping my voice calm but edged with concern. “What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I… I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want to… but I couldn’t stop it.”

“Stop what?” I pressed, my tone firm but not unkind.

Ros took a shaky breath, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Littlefinger sent me and Daisy, my friend, to… to entertain King Joffrey.”

I scowled, and she continued, her eyes trembling as if fearing rejection. “I tried to refuse, I swear, but he wouldn’t hear it. Said it was my ‘last active job’ before my promotion.” By promotion, she must mean the position of an assistant, and not that of a madame, as that’d already happened. Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry I had to take it. But don’t worry…. I didn’t have to sleep with him. Somehow, I’m not happy about that. Because Joffrey—he… he made me hurt her. Daisy. He made me beat her, and now she’s… she’s barely alive. She’s dying! Her bones are broken, her body wounded, and Lord Baelish is not even bothering to save her. She won’t last the night.”

A flicker of annoyance stirred within me—not at Ros, but at the situation. I knew this scene from the show, and it was every bit as disgusting in reality. But I forced myself to remain composed. “And you? Did he…?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “He didn’t hurt me. He just… watched. He made me hurt her and watched.”

Watched, eh? Fucking retard. A part of me wanted to tie him up in a chair and make him watch me with his wife, but alas, poor Sansa didn’t deserve such a fate.

I exhaled, resting my hands on her shoulders and meeting her tearful gaze. “It’s going to be alright,” I said, my voice steady. “We’ll save her.”

Ros looked at me as I yanked out a pouch. “Take this. This much should be enough to get your friend treated from a great Healer,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “No, I… I can’t take your money. I—you went out and risked your life for this job, I can’t take your money!”

“It’s not for you,” I interrupted. “It’s for her. Take it. Use it to get her help. Your friend’s life is more important than my money, Ros.”

She hesitated, her hands trembling as I pressed the pouch of coins into them. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I gave her a reassuring smile, though inwardly, my mind was already planning my next move. Although I hated that twat, Joffrey, his actions would only make things easier. Oh, how well-timed this situation was. Not only was her hate for Joffrey at an all-time high, but the same went for Littlefinger, for refusing to treat one of his workers who was dying.

It was time to strike, for the iron was very hot.

“And Ros,” I said, my tone softening, “tomorrow morning, I’m taking you out of King’s Landing. Tend to your friend tonight, and be ready to leave by dawn.”

She blinked, surprised. “Leave? Where?”

I smiled, a touch of mystery in my expression. “I have something to show you. And tomorrow night… consider it the dinner date I promised you.”

Ros stared at me, her tear-streaked face softening into something almost hopeful. “Alright,” she whispered.

I nodded, my mind already turning to the opportunities ahead. “Good. Now go. Save her life.”

As Ros left the room, clutching the pouch of coins, I allowed myself a small, private smirk. One more piece moved into place.

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