40 Ch. 9 Trust

I carelessly stood beside a prone Joffrey Baratheon as he laid gasping for air in a puddle of his own sweat. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, and his shirt was caked with saw-dust and dirt. In an unexpected display of determination, the Crown Prince still clung to the war-hammer.

When I began to force my dear cousin through rounds of sparring and full-body exercises, he would cast baleful looks my way. As I physically dominated him into compliance, acceptance began to replace the hate in his green eyes. Round after round and repetition after repetition, Joffrey was put through the most hellish experience of his short life.

Of course, he tried to quit multiple times, but I was relentless in my beating until his morale improved. It didn't take Joffrey long to realize I couldn't care less about his status or the fact he wouldn't be saved by one of the spectators nearby.

With the reinforced shield still on my left arm, I take hold of Joffrey's shirt with my right hand and effortlessly haul him to his feet. To the boy's credit, he didn't let go of the handle of the war-hammer.

"You did well," I tell the exhausted prince. Before pride could fill his weary eyes, I continued giving him my evaluation. "You're not the best I've seen for your age, but you did far better than I expected."

Joffrey grimaced through his heavy breathing and hosted the hammer up into both his hands. "I've never used a hammer before," Joffrey began before I interrupted him.

"Your forms and technique with the hammer were shite, boy," I bluntly announce. "This was to push your physical limits and test your resolve," I said to a dazed prince.

"What?" Joffrey managed to blurt out.

I take pity on my delusional cousin and decide to educate the boy. "You are taller than most boys your age, but your lack of physical activity has left you on the slender-side. As long as you maintain a healthy diet, you should grow as tall as your father. The training with the hammer is to make sure you're as strong as he was."

Realization dawned behind his green eyes but was quickly pushed away by stupidity. "But, I don't want to wield a hammer," Joffrey complained. "I want to wield a sword. Everyone says I'm a great swordsman," Joffrey stated with pride in his voice.

I leaned down so my face was closer to my cousin. "They lied," I softly said.

With the look of contemptuous disbelief, I felt my patience waning. Straightening to my full height, I gave Joffrey a hard stare. "Tell me, boy," I begin in a tone that announced a lesson was starting, "what is the most important trait of a good ruler?"

Joffrey's brow still furrowed at being called a boy, but he's not voiced a second complaint. "A good ruler must be smart," Joffrey cautiously answered.

A hard snort escapes me at his answer. "If the standard to be a good ruler was intelligence, then maesters should rule the world," I told my cousin. "No, a good ruler will surround himself with highly skilled and experienced masters to serve as his advisors. The most important characteristic any ruler should strive for is judgment."

I place my hand on Joffrey's shoulder and steer him out of the sparring circle. As we're walking towards a wooden bench along a wall, I further explain my lesson. "If you wish to be a good king, then you must use your judgment. It will be your judgment over the recommendation of your trusted advisors that will ensure you rule properly," I carefully explain to the little sadist.

"But, I can't trust anyone," Joffrey said with more doubt than his previous comments.

I don't even attempt to hide my disappointment at his comment. "Tell me, do you trust the person who told you that?" I ask, knowing something that asinine could only come from Cersei.

"Joffrey, the truth of the matter is, you will live a life of fear and paranoia if you can not trust anyone. That is no way to live or rule," I try to coax.

The little prince stopped walking and turned to face me. Lifting his hairless chin in defiance, "You expect me to just blindly trust you?"

Staring down at the entitled brat, I restrain myself from cupping him over the ear again. "What do I gain from having you as my squire?" I ask. "I am the heir to the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms and the future Warden of the West. I am the youngest knight in history and betrothed to your royal sister," I summarize for the fool.

I unstrap the shield from my arm and push it into Joffrey's chest for him to take. "Clean this and the hammer before you depart the training grounds. I want to hear your answer tomorrow morning," I order before stepping around my squire.

After a few steps from the spoiled prince, I stop and look back at Joffrey. "And squire," I call in a firm voice, "I strongly recommend you to be on time tomorrow. It will save you some... discomfort."

I don't wait for an answer before resuming my walk towards the exit. I have a meeting with another Baratheon to get to. Unfortunately, this Baratheon is just as unpleasant as the one I'm walking away from.