The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 27: The Power of Cruelty
"Hello, Lord Baelish," he said with a smirk as he dusted off a wooden stool and placed it a few feet from him. "I think it's time we had a little chat."
With the king's torchlight illuminating the otherwise pitch-black cell, Littlefinger watched with confusion as the king himself sat down across from him. Even with his swollen eye, Lord Baelish could still see the blonde boy's condescending smirk, and anger and resentment boiled inside him.
"So I take it, you know why you're here?" The king asked, pulling Littlefinger from his inner thoughts.
"No, Your Grace, I can't say that I do." He coughed, his voice a mix of pain and confusion.
"Oh, come now, Lord Baelish, you're supposed to be such a clever man. I'm sure you must have figured it out by now."
"Your Grace, I truly do not know why you're treating me in such a manner." He said, staring into the king's eyes. "I have been nothing but a loyal servant to you and the crown."
"Hahahahaha!"
Joffrey suddenly began laughing hysterically at the man's words.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing. It's just, using yourself and the word loyal in the same sentence is hilarious to me," he said as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "After all, we both know the only one you've ever been loyal to is yourself, isn't that right, Lord Baelish?"
Littlefinger fell silent at his words.
"You can't possibly believe for a second that I believed you were a faithful servant of either me or my father," he said, looking the chained man in the eye. "You can't possibly believe I'm that stupid."
"What are you talking about?!" He said, anger finally rising in his voice as his wrists pulled against the chains. "I've done everything you've asked of me! I got the loan from the Iron Bank for you, I warned your mother about Lord Stark's coup, I even served on your father's Small Council for over ten years! Ten years of loyal service, so again, I don't know what you're talking about!"
Joffrey sat back patiently, letting Petyr have his little moment. Once he stopped and slumped back against the wall, Joffrey spoke again.
"Are you done?" He asked mockingly, making a vein bulge on Littlefinger's neck. "Now, you referenced your part in thwarting Lord Stark's scheme and coming to warn us. But that was only after he refused your plan of backing my uncle Renly, isn't that right?"
Littlefinger remained silent, though this time out of shock.
"Nothing to say now, huh?" He asked rhetorically as he continued. "And since you're so proud of your years of service to my father, let's examine it." His voice was turning from light and mocking into one of cold anger. "Were you or were you not the one to encourage my father and his frivolous spending that has bankrupted the Realm?"
"I was performing my duties as Master of Coin," he defended. "The Master of Coin just finds the money; it's up to the King and the Hand how it's used."
"True, but you knew just what to say to him to get him to spend as much as possible," he replied, cutting through the snake's bullshit. "You embezzled tens of thousands of gold coins from the crown and had them placed in some of your shell businesses."
"Your grace, I—" He started, but Joffrey cut him off.
"I wouldn't bother finishing that sentence since I've already uncovered several of their locations, and my Royal Guards are raiding your stashes as we speak."
Littlefinger couldn't believe his ears as his year-long plans were being pulled apart at the seams.
"How?! How does this blonde little shit know about that?!" He thought furiously as he began racking his brain on who could've told him. Was it Varys? Is this his plan?"
"Though I have to admit yours was a rather ingenious plan," Joffrey added, snapping Littlefinger out of his thoughts.
Ever the performer, Lord Baelish, took a moment to calm himself before speaking. Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling before he spoke.
"And what plan is that, Your Grace?"
"Oh, your little plan to sit yourself atop the Iron Throne."
"What? That's ridiculous, why would I desire to be king?" He scoffed.
"Oh, back to pretending, are we, snake?" He laughed as he leaned forward on his stool. "As for why you'd want to be king, that would be so you could fulfill your little pathetic childhood dream of having Catelyn Stark as your queen."
His tone was mocking, and as he watched the slight facial twitches on the snake's face, he could see he was finally getting to him. So he continued to twist the dagger.
"I mean, it's kinda sad when you think about it," he continued, speaking more jovially. "You spent your whole life fantasizing about some stupid red-haired harlot who never loved you back. I mean, not for the first Stark boy or even the runner-up, and at no point did you think that maybe she just wasn't into you. In fact, I doubt she saw you as anything more than some stray puppy dog she found on the side of the road. Truly, your life is one sad little song, Petyr Baelish."
Littlefinger's wrists clashed against the chains as he unconsciously lunged at the boy king, who continued to be amused by his futile attempts.
"Though as far as plans go, I have to admit, yours was pretty clever," he continued. "First you wormed your way into the Small Council using your father's connection with your Liege Lord. Then you crippled the crown financially while having that crazy Lysa bitch poison Jon Arryn, freeing her and, by extension, all of the Vale up for marriage. Your killing blow was supposed to be Bran Stark's death, starting the War of Five Kings, leaving the Realm bleeding and ripe for the taking. Truly, quite the clever plan." He offered genuine praise for the first time.
Hearing his master plan so easily seen through made Petyr's jaw nearly fall onto the floor.
"H-how?" Was all he could stutter.
"You're not the only one with eyes and ears, Lord Baelish, but unlike the rest of you, mine reach heights you could only dream of." He said ominously as he sat back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Personally, I always found you and your little aspirations entertaining, but unfortunately, you crossed a line when you conspired with my mother to have Sansa killed."
Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere with denial, Petyr decided to switch tactics.
"Your Grace, I can still be of use to you!" he pleaded. "I have crucial information that could impact the entire realm!"
"Tell me the information, and I'll tell you if it's crucial or not." He responded coldly.
"Varys! I have critical information on Varys and his treacherous plans!"
"Oh, you mean how he's conspiring with the Cheesemonger to put the Targaryen's back on the throne? Yeah, I already know about that, and I'll be dealing with Lord Varys very shortly. So what else have you got?"
"..."
Littlefinger didn't know what to say. The boy he once thought of as nothing but a naive, sadistic, spoiled little shit had truly seen through everyone's plans.
"W-who are you?" He slowly asked, his voice barely concealing his growing fear.
"Well, today I'm Joffrey Baratheon, the supposed king of the Seven Kingdoms, but before, who knows." He said, giving a cold, ominous grin.
Gulp
Swallowing loudly, Littlefinger attempted to regain some control over the conversation, and since denial and trades were off the table, that only left one avenue for him.
"What do you want from me, Joffrey?" He asked in a cold, calm voice as his face completely relaxed.
"Hello. It's nice to finally speak to the real you, Petyr." He said with a genuine smile, though Littlefinger didn't smile back. "But you are right, there is something I want from you."
Joffrey then began to explain the details of what he wanted him to do.
"By the gods, you're mad," his eyes widened.
"Well, thank goodness for that; otherwise, I wouldn't have made it this far." He shrugged.
"What's in it for me?"
"Simple, you give me the information I want, and you help me with a little bit of theater, and in exchange, I'll show you mercy as I did for Lord Stark and allow you to join the Night's Watch. Now do we have a deal?"
The former Master of Coin's face went through a variety of expressions as if he were contemplating all of his choices. Though it wasn't much of a choice if he was being honest. After all, the blonde little monster had apparently seen through not just his but everyone's schemes. His Gold Cloaks were either dead or captured; he didn't know and he didn't care. And while he did still have Lysa Arryn and therefore all of the Vale's forces, they were all the way back in the Eyrie and would never get to him in time. So after a few moments of contemplation, he finally met the king's gaze.
"We have a deal," he nodded and slumped against the wall in resignation.
"Excellent!" He replied happily. "Rol, go fetch me a map of the city."
"Yes, Your Grace." One of his Royal Guards, who were standing guard, responded.
Soon the soldier returned with the map, and Littlefinger began to point out all the dummy locations throughout the city and Crownlands that held the Crown's misplaced funds.
"Well, I guess that should do it," Joffrey said as he rolled up his map. "It will take a few days to get the stage ready, so until then, I'll have you moved to some place more comfortably."
"Thank you, Your Grace," he said submissively.
"Till then, my former Master of Coin." He said as he grabbed the burning torch that was starting to go dim.
"Your Grace," he called out, stopping Joffrey from leaving. "What gave it away? I have to know. When did you start suspecting me? Where did I slip up?" He spoke with such desperation that it reminded Joffrey of a child trying to understand the answer to a riddle.
"From the moment I looked into your eyes, Lord Baelish," He said as he turned to face the chained prisoner. "I could see right through you from the moment we met. You came from nothing, so you've had to work and claw your way up the ladder of power. All the while being pissed and spat on by those who considered themselves your superior just because they happened to be born with a certain name."
Hearing the king's accurate description of his life story made Littlefinger clench his hands so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Those insults and struggles instilled in you a certain hatred, my Lord." He continued. "A hatred for the classist system that saw you struggle while others coasted and thrived. A look I could recognize with a single glance since it's the same one I see every time I look in the mirror."
At his words, the snake's head perked up.
"It's truly a shame things had to turn out like this." He remarked almost with a hint of disappointment. "If things had been different, it would've been you standing by my side as I tore down the nepotistic system that cheated you. But there's no point in discussing bridges not crossed, so here we are."
"...Here we are…" He conceded as he allowed his mind to ponder what might have been.
With those parting words, the king made his way out of the cell, leaving the beaten snake once again alone in the darkness with nothing but his shattered dreams and ruined plans to keep him company.
As the king made his way past the other dark prison cells that held the former City Watch, who were all groaning in pain, he continued to think about the next stage of his plan.
"It's time to use 'that' from Machiavelli," He thought as he walked with his guards out of the dark hell hole.
o-O-o
It had taken several days for the proper-sized platform to be built in the city square, but the second it was completed and tested, Joffrey sent out his guards, ordering all of his citizens, both Highborn and low, that they needed to attend. By the time all the preparations were put into place, it was already noon.
Slowly the gates of the Red Keep were opened, and one by one, the treacherous noblemen were led out in a single-file chain gang. The sun's rays bore down on the old men as they were pulled by a chain that was attached to the choker around their necks. It was a scorcher of a day, making the old men's foreheads drip with sweat that ran off onto their soiled nightclothes which they'd been forced to keep wearing.
As the old men waddled like ducks on the tan brick road, they noticed the two rows of the same black-armored soldiers that had arrested them on both sides of the street keeping the raging crowd at bay. Despite the roaring angry crowd pushing against them, the Royal Guard stood firm in their positions, not moving an inch no matter how hard the mob pressed against them.
As they made it to the halfway point to the Town Square, the crowd started to throw trash and other garbage at the men. Rotten vegetables, spoiled fruit, and some were just plain trash that went flying over soldiers and struck the men's bodies, soaking them in their filth. As more and more garbage was thrown by the angry mob, vendors were walking around the crowd trying to make a profit.
"Bad Fruit!" One shouted out. "Get your bad fruit here!"
"Vegetables! Come get your rotten vegetables!"
"Trash! Fresh hot trash here! Get 'em while we got 'em!"
Many of the citizens made their way to vendors, paying them in copper pennies for some more projectiles. By the time the traitors finally made it to the King's platform, they looked like a walking landfill.
Slowly they made their way to the top of the stairs and were greeted by the King and his Council along with Sansa Stark and her entire family. As they were guided to the far end of the platform, that's when they caught sight of the snake that had led them into their current situation: Petyr Baelish. Who, unlike them, was dressed in fresh robes and had clearly enjoyed a hot bath.
"You little fucking worm! If I get out of this, I swear to the Seven!" One of the conspirators thought alongside many of the others.
Though Lord Baelish paid them no mind, just staring forward and ignoring their gaze. As the crowd began to become rowdy, the Royal Steward stepped forward to face the crowd and make the announcement.
"Welcome all and thank you for joining us on this auspicious day." As he spoke, the crowd slowly grew quiet so that they could hear better. "We are here to hear the confession and pass sentence on a traitor who sought to usurp the throne from its proper ruler."
At his words, Petyr Baelish slowly stepped forward to face the mob.
"I am Lord Petyr Baelish, the King's former Master of Coin," he then glanced at Joffrey, whose eyes ordered him to continue. "I come before you to confess my treason in the eyes of both gods and men. I betrayed the loyalty and trust of my King, Joffrey Baratheon, and the entire realm. I swore to serve and protect this city and all of you who live here, but instead, I plotted for my own gain. I plotted to betray Joffrey and seize the throne for myself."
The crowd once again grew furious, many attempting to hit the snake with garbage.
"With the aid of these men behind me, I orchestrated the War of Five Kings by framing Tyrion Lannister for the attempt on Bran Stark's life. Then, once Lord Stark had assumed the office of Hand of the King, I deceived and manipulated him into believing that Joffrey was not the rightful king."
At his words, Ned, Arya, and even Sansa grew furious with the conniving little worm, while Joffrey just smirked. However, the chain gang of conspirators grew just as outraged as the rest of them.
"This is horse shit! I had nothing to do with the attempt on Bran Stark's life!" One thought, unable to speak through the ball gag.
"I don't have anything to do with any of this!" Thought another.
"I want to go home to my mother!" Thought the last one.
"Let the holy seven above bear witness to what I say." He continued. "Joffrey is the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms, and I beg for forgiveness for both me and my allies' treachery!"
With this, he practically threw himself at the king's feet, prostrating himself until his head touched the floor. Realizing it was time to play his part, Joffrey stepped away from Sansa and into the sight of the crowd. Slowly he raised his hands up, gesturing for the crowd to be silent before he spoke.
"My citizens, once again we come before you to determine the fate of a traitor." He spoke out, his voice carrying all the way to the back of the crowd. "This man sought to depose me and place himself on my throne. Not only that, he orchestrated events to pit two Great Houses against each other, thus costing the realm thousands of lives. But worst of all, he and his allies attempted to kill a boy of nine in his bed as he slept."
The king's voice carried such passion and venom that the crowd itself looked ready to tear Littlefinger and his friends apart with their bare hands.
"However, I have been beseeched to show this man the same mercy I bestowed upon Lord Stark. That I should let him live and allow him to join the Night's Watch and live out his remaining days at the Wall."
Littlefinger slowly sat up from prostrating himself and gazed upon the king, who slowly turned towards him. On the outside, Lord Baelish's face was the picture of shame and remorse, but on the inside, he was grinning ear to ear.
Now that he had kept his end of the bargain and incriminated all of his former allies at court, the king would spare his life and send him to the Wall. Though he had no intentions of ever making it there. Once their little bit of theater was over, he'd find a way to slip a note to one of his agents the king hadn't discovered yet, who would then find a way to inform Lysa Arryn of his predicament. Once he was on the King's Road heading north, she'd send her soldiers to save him, and once he was back in the Vale, he could figure out his next move to win the throne.
"But I ask you, is this man a Lord Stark?" The king's words brought Littlefinger back to the present.
The crowd started to quietly talk amongst itself, while the members on the platform looked confused.
"Has this man ever fought for anything but himself? Has he served anyone else's interests except his own? Is this man a fallen hero who made a single mistake after a lifetime of dedication and loyalty?"
His words slowly drew in the mob, who gave the golden king their undivided attention.
"No!" He shouted passionately. "This man is no hero! He's not even a man at all; he and all those that followed him in his treacherous schemes are vipers! Vipers whose venom threatens to poison everyone and everything we hold dear! So I ask you again, my beloved citizens, what do we do with vipers?!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
They all chanted as one, their voices rising to the heavens and filling the entire city with their decree. Turning around, Joffrey gave the snake a cold smirk.
"Well, the people have spoken," He said calmly as a shocked Littlefinger's eyes widened.
"Joffrey, we had a—"
But before he could finish, he was seized by both of his arms by Joffrey's soldiers, and a gag was placed in his mouth, preventing him from saying another word. Another soldier slowly walked up and placed a chopping block at the end of the stage. The two guards then forcibly dragged Littlefinger to the stump and forced him onto his knees as Joffrey approached at the side.
Slowly Joffrey drew his custom longsword Lion's Tooth from his scabbard. Standing over the squirming, frightened man, the king flipped his sword upside down and brought the pommel to his lips.
"Lord Petyr Baelish, former Master of Coin, here now in the sights of gods and men, I, Joffrey Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death."
The two Royal Guards pushed and held the man in place but left enough room for Petyr to turn his head upward and meet the king's gaze. Tears flowed from his eyes as snot poured from his nose, turning the snake's face into a rather pathetic sight. Looking into his eyes, Joffrey could see the moment it became real for the traitor. When he realized all of his plots and aspirations just went up in smoke, and his spirit cracked.
Seeing the man's broken spirit made Joffrey smirk as he brought his sword up slowly with both hands and held it above his head. Then with one hard, fast motion, he brought it down with all of his strength, slicing through bone like butter. The traitor's head flew through the air, landing on the wooden platform's floor before rolling a few feet. Immediately one of the Royal Guards retrieved the head and handed it to the king, who handed off his bloody sword to the Royal Steward.
Taking the head into his hand, Joffrey took the time to examine its features but found no feelings stirring inside of him except disgust. So after taking a moment to spit on it, he then grasped it tightly by its hair and raised it high for all to see.
"Yeah!" The crowd cheered loudly as he held the head high.
Joffrey then handed the head off to one of his officers.
"Have that prepared."
"Yes, Your Grace." He responded as he banged his breastplate.
Joffrey then turned his attention to the last twenty conspirators.
"Continue," he ordered his Saber as he made his way back over to Sansa.
The Royal Guards then unchained Janos Slynt from the chain gang and was led toward the stump that was still dripping with blood. The former City Watch Commander shook and thrashed with all his might against the soldiers but quickly found their grips were as tight as a vice, and there was no escape. Soon the bald worm was forced to his knees, as another Royal Guard approached his side and drew his sword.
A yellow puddle appeared below the bald little man as he looked around like a frightened child.
"Your Grace, Mercy—"
But before he could finish, the Royal Guard brought his sword down, repeating the same process as his king. The soldier then placed the head in a wicker basket before turning his attention to the chain gang and his brothers.
"Next," he ordered as his armor still dripped with Slynt's blood.
The next Crownland Nobleman was uncuffed and dragged much in the same manner as Slynt to the chopping block. As all of this unfolded, Joffrey watched from the side with a pleased grin etched across his face. The first step of his grand plan was now complete, and he'd even managed to utilize the power of Cruelty in accordance with Machiavelli's teachings in The Prince. That a truly great king must be both feared and loved, but if you had to choose between the two, it was always better to be feared. That a monarch must properly utilize the power of cruelty to intimidate their rivals while inspiring their subjects.
However, Machiavelli also stressed the necessity of only utilizing it once. Otherwise, the ruler would quickly be viewed as a tyrant or a madman just as it was for both Aerys the Mad King or Maegor the Cruel.
Just as he wrote, "That it was better to kill 100 men in one day than 1 man over the course of a hundred days."
With this single move, he managed to cull the corruption plaguing his city, produce a force loyal only to the crown, and send a message to all of the nobility about the consequences of treason. The added bonus was managing to inspire the common folk with the display that no one, no matter how Highborn, was above the law.
"Now I just have to deal with the harlot and the spider," He thought as Sansa nuzzled her head against his chest.
High and welcome to my first official story. Since I'm new I'd appreciate some praise and a little interaction, just trying to get to know my audience you know. Anyway with that in mind I'd appreciate you taking the time to leave a review and some critique, and I'll do my best to read them.
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Current available Stories:
~The Young Lion: Act 2 Ch 6
~Highschool DxD: The Cursed King of Kuoh: S1 Ch 7