34: HBO WI: Joffrey from Game of Thrones replaced with Octavian from Rome by Hotpoint (GOT)

Fic type: Crossover

I never saw the rome show but this is good. The mc is a sociopath who wants to make Westros into Rome.

This is from archive of our own.

I have posted three chapters which covers the Kings 'road part.

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HBO WI: Joffrey from Game of Thrones replaced with Octavian from Rome

Hotpoint

Summary:

What if you took the mind of a sociopathic teenage genius from one HBO series and put it in the body of a psychopathic teenage idiot from another?

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953125/chapters/13683825

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Chapter 1: Part I

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.

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"You are being counselled at this very moment"

King Joffrey to Lord Tywin Lannister - 299 AL

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Winterfell - 298 AL

"Joffrey I'm talking to you!" a woman's voice interrupted his reading, it taking a second for Octavian to realise who it belonged to.

"Sorry... Mother" Octavian replied eventually, trying not to sound too aggrieved at the intrusion as he reluctantly looked up from the page he was on. "Is there something wrong?" he queried.

Cersei gave him a look of reproach. "You know full well that you need to wash and dress for tonight's banquet" she reminded the boy. "Your father expects you to make a good impression on these Northern Oafs" she continued, "Although I'm sure simply spitting on the floor and taking too much strong drink would suffice" she said, sneering at the backward and unrefined House that controlled the largest, but nevertheless also the poorest, of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

"Is it that time already?" Octavian responded in surprise, the book must be even more engrossing than he thought if he had been reading most of the afternoon. "I'll finish this page and prepare immediately" he promised, biting back the comment that if anything her own husband was more of a boorish oaf than Ned Stark. Cersei clearly liked to put herself on a pedestal even though in Octavian's estimation her drunken spouse obviously preferred bending whores over them.

"See that you do" Cersei told him, turning around and heading out of the door of the room he had been given for the duration of their stay by their hosts.

Octavian sighed. "Another world, another life and I still end up with a mother that won't let me read in peace" he grumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair.

Placing a bookmark in the weighty tome Octavian closed it and read the title again. The Lives of Four Kings gave an insight into the politics and society of this new world that Octavian had been sorely lacking, and it wasn't as hard going as The History of the Greater and Lesser Houses had been the previous day. True the prose sorely lacked something, the author was certainly no Uncle Gaius, but at least it wasn't simply dry facts mixed with obvious propaganda.

"I must ask the dwarf to recommend some more books" Octavian decided, having already worked out that while the rest of his new "family" were blessed with good looks and athleticism the most diminutive member had apparently gotten most of the brains. Tyrion had in fact been more than a touch surprised at his "nephew" politely asking his advice the first time and had then been extremely shocked that the boy actually had borrowed the two suggested books from the Stark library to read them.

Octavian yawned and leaned back in his chair further to stretch. Finding himself a Prince and heir to the throne was nice enough, and when he came to rule he would surely do better than his new "father" he knew. Honestly, having Robert Baratheon as King of Westeros was akin to having Titus Pullo as a Consul of Rome, Octavian thought to himself with a chuckle. Now that he came to think of it his other new "uncle" Stannis was an even grimmer version of Pullo's stoic, stonewall Catonian commanding officer and erstwhile friend Lucius Vorenus.

Standing up and pushing back his chair Octavian frowned. Thinking of family he suspected from quiet observation that there was something more going on between Cersei and her brother Jaime than there should be between siblings. Having screwed his own sister Octavia once however he decided he wasn't in much of a position to criticise anyone else on the subject of incest so it was all rather academic as long as nobody else found out he decided.

Going over to the dressing table and looking in the mirror Octavian surveyed his new face for what seemed like the thousandth time. "I'm just going to assume that this otherwise inexplicable state of affairs came about because I told my sister I didn't believe in the Gods and they decided to show me that the universe is more mysterious than I thought" he remarked to himself. "If I'm wrong, or if I'm supposed to do something in particular while I'm here, you're going to have to provide some kind of clue" he asked of any deity that might be listening.

"Very well" he said after a lengthy pause during which neither the Gods of Rome nor those of Westeros responded to his appeal for guidance. "If you want me to go about things the way I personally think is logical and best then please send me absolutely no sign" he requested, crossing his arms while still looking in the mirror. "As you wish then" he continued after another long pause, unable to resist a smirk that absolutely nothing had happened. "It's on you now, don't complain if you don't get the end result you desired" he stated, fervently hoping that he hadn't just dived deep into the ocean of blasphemy.

Looking out through the eyes of Joffrey Baratheon, Gaius Octavian of the Julii straightened up and dispassionately weighed what he saw of his new self. "I really hope that this arsehole didn't get my body in return because if he did then the Republic is monumentally buggered" he concluded sadly.

Notes:

Note from the author:

Octavian's mother Atia isn't as bad as Joffrey's mother Cersei but he is at least somewhat used to having an overbearing parent!

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Chapter 2: Part II

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.

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"We've had virtuous kings, and we've had genius kings... but I don't know if we've ever been blessed with a virtuous genius for a king!"

Tyrion Lannister - 299 AL

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Winterfell - 298 AL

"He's not what I expected based on the rumours" Catelyn Stark quietly remarked to her husband after Prince Joffrey relocated from his initial seat at the main table to another in the hall and began animatedly discussing science and politics over the next course of dinner with both his uncle Tyrion and Maester Luwin.

Sat beside her Eddard Stark shrugged. "The boy probably just needed to grow up" he suggested, although it was hard to reconcile the selfish, spoiled brat of reputation with Prince Joffrey in the flesh. "Well, perhaps it's an even better match than we thought?" he added hopefully.

"To be honest I think Sansa is so taken with the notion of being wed to the heir to the throne she wouldn't have objected even if the rumours had been a true representation of his personality" Catelyn observed. "His father appears happier than his mother regarding the betrothal in case you hadn't noticed" she continued knowingly, looking across to where the King and Queen were playing court, talking to various northern dignitaries invited to Winterfell for the rare appearance of the royal family so far from King's Landing.

Ned reached for a cup of wine. "And I'm sure you'll feel the same way when you're faced with the prospect of no longer being the most important woman in Robb's life" he responded with a wry smile that was so barely evident on his face that few but Catelyn would have even noticed it.

Octavian was enjoying the conversation more than the meal, although he had to admit the wine imported from Dorne far in the south was a match in quality for even the finest Falernian from back home. Although in many ways the social and governance structure of Westeros was undoubtedly primitive compared to that of the Roman Republic Octavian was nonetheless starting to realise that they weren't inferior to Rome in everything.

For example, when it came to Civil Engineering Westeros badly needed a better road network Octavian knew, and they would surely benefit greatly from improved sanitation too, but there were innovations here such as the "Far-Eye" utilising lenses imported from Myr in Essos and the "stirrup" device for riding horses which would have been of great utility to The Republic.

Moreover from his perspective as a seventeen year-old boy the girls here weren't too bad either Octavian decided, surreptitiously directing an appreciative glance towards the elder Stark daughter that his "father" the King intended him to marry. Unlike most boys his age the pursuit of the fairer sex hadn't ever really been a major preoccupation of his but that didn't mean Octavian didn't have occasional thoughts on the matter, or that he failed to appreciate the view on a more than aesthetic level.

By chance Sansa turned her head at that very moment and caught his glance, blushing as Octavian tried not to do likewise having been caught out.

"You'll get to look her over properly in good time" an amused Tyrion told the boy he thought his oldest nephew. "Wearing far less too" he added, grinning as Octavian's obvious embarrassment. "You may want to get some practice with at least one other young lady before the Bedding Ceremony however" he advised, semi-seriously.

Not being one to enjoy anyone scoring verbal points on him Octavian looked Tyrion in the eyes. "Already have" he replied smugly, recalling the girl in the high-class brothel Pullo had taken him too after his mother Atia insisted on him losing his virginity. Although he had described the experience as merely "pleasant" to the legionary that had been understating the case somewhat, even if he still couldn't quite grasp why so many men seemed utterly obsessed with sex rather than treating it as just another recreational activity.

Once again taken aback by something the boy had said, an all too common occurrence recently, Tyrion nevertheless quickly gathered his wits. "I'm so proud" he declared, feigning to wipe away a tear. "You're definitely my nephew" he continued, grinning even more broadly. "For our next lesson I think we should skip politics and I'll explain how to coordinate a threesome."

Maester Luwin coughed. "And with that I'll go find another table" he said, getting up before giving both of them a disapproving look.

"From what I've heard I'm sure Grand Maester Pycelle would have plenty of useful advice to offer on the subject" Tyrion wryly observed as Luwin left them. "More wine?" he asked Octavian, pouring some for himself.

Octavian shook his head. "Best not, I've still got to finish reading the Life of Four Kings in the morning before we start packing to head back to King's Landing and a hangover wouldn't help" he replied.

Tyrion frowned. "I'm all for education and broadening one's mind" he responded, "but if it starts to interfere with your drinking then you need to reevaluate your priorities" he stated seriously.

Notes:

Note from the author:

The Romans were certainly ahead of the Westerosi in terms of infrastructure but lacked later technical innovations such as the stirrup, horse-collar or indeed the telescope (known in Westeros as the Far Eye)

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Chapter 3: Part III

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.

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"Wars, both civil and foreign, I undertook throughout the world, on sea and land, and when victorious I spared all citizens who sued for pardon. The foreign nations which could with safety be pardoned I preferred to save rather than to destroy"

Joffrey Augustus, Emperor of Westeros and Essos - 356 AL

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The Kingsroad - 298 AL

When Octavian gained the throne upgrading the so-called road they had been traversing into a proper highway of Roman design and construction was going to be towards the top of his to-do list he decided as they finally arrived at the Crossroad's Inn roughly half way to their final destination. It wasn't that the Westerosi even had the excuse of not knowing what a decent road actually was, he thought, rolling his eyes. According to his reading not only had the Valyrian Freehold constructed a vast road network of their own in days past, much of which was still extant in Essos, but even today the City-States there constructed and maintained paved roads of their own to bolster trade.

Thanks to the poor state of the current transport infrastructure in Westeros the journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took an entire month at present, which was wholly unacceptable both in terms of rapid military deployment when required and perhaps even more importantly the reduction in economically beneficial trade during peacetime, Octavian knew. What were these people spending their tax revenue on, he wondered sadly?

The King himself was sat at a table inside the Inn, with a typically overly-generous meal and too much drink set before him and his friend Eddard Stark. Though his friends and close associates called him the abbreviated form "Ned" rather than Eddard, and most others addressed him as Lord Stark, Octavian still considered the naming conventions generally simpler here than in Rome, although the "family" name assigned to illegitimate offspring added a potentially nasty edge to things the new heir to the Iron Throne noted disparagingly.

Stark's own bastard Jon, given the second name "Snow" to indicate his mother was not his father's wife, had headed off northwards to join the Night's Watch guarding the wall at the far end of the kingdom, and Tyrion had joined him in order to see the reputedly gigantic construction first-hand. From Octavian's perspective it was a great pity the dwarf was gone because without him there was a distinct lack of decent conversation and debate to be had meaning that the next few weeks of travel would be even more tedious than they would have been.

Shortly before they left Winterfell another of Stark's sons, this one legitimate, had fallen whilst climbing the walls of the castle. The boy being badly injured and still comatose when they set out for King's Landing Octavian had made sure to be among the first to offer his condolences for the lads condition and let his family know his prayers with with young Brandon. After doing so he overheard the eldest of Stark's sons Robb whisper to his families Ward Theon that perhaps the Prince wasn't the "Right Royal Prick" others said he was, causing Octavian to inwardly smile. If you can fake sincerity you've got it made, he had thought to himself before going back to his books.

The more he learned of this world the more Octavian realised the way the ruling Houses of Westeros looked down upon the plebeian masses here was as bad as the way they looked down on illegitimate members of their own families. Although the Roman Republic did itself frown upon illegitimacy to some extent, and still maintained an aristocracy of sorts even after abolishing the monarchy centuries before, it was nevertheless still easier there for a man of talent and ability to rise above the station he was born into than it was here, to the benefit of himself and society as a whole. Octavian's uncle, Gaius Julius Caesar, had long championed the cause of the common people above that of the Equestrian Order, as indeed had Caesar's own uncle the famous general and record-breaking seven-time Consul-of-Rome Gaius Marius before him, and although a noble by birth, not one of the people himself, Octavian was determined to continue the tradition of his family and be a man for the people.

You didn't have to be generally fond of people as individuals to care about the welfare of people generally after all.

Having already eaten a light lunch, and knowing that his uninvited presence at their table would not be welcomed by Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, Octavian went for a walk, shadowed as always by his bodyguard the badly scarred and physically imposing Sandor Clegane. Often referred to both in insult and sometimes grudging respect as "The Hound", in certain ways the battle-hardened Clegane reminded Octavian of Titus Pullo, although lacking much of the former legionary's joviality and excessive familiarity and not being quite as foul-mouthed.

Encountering Sansa Stark, as she walked her pet direwolf on a leash around the temporary camp the Royal Baggage Train had formed near the Inn, it seemed apt to inquire if she might wish to join him on his own walk. She readily agreed, looking very pleased at the invitation, and with Clegane now acting as a chaperone of sorts, as well as protection, they headed for the riverbank nearby.

Unfortunately while he was a skilled debater if the topics were more academic Octavian was useless at talking to girls. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the resulting long awkward silences as they strolled side-by-side he found himself wishing that he hadn't always tuned out when his sister had prattled on about things that mattered to her. Sansa seemed to expect him to lead the conversation which didn't help at all so it was with much relief that they came upon her younger sister Arya at the riverbank engaged in a mock sword-fight with another child, the two of them waving sticks at each other as her own pet direwolf lay basking in the sun nearby.

Octavian was a self-confessed middling swordsmen but he still knew a great deal more about swordplay than he knew about women and thanking the gods that his mother had insisted on Titus Pullo teaching him the basics he picked a stick of his own off the ground. "Who are you that attacks the sister of my intended bride?" he inquired of the boy haughtily, approaching the children with a determined stride.

The boy gaped at being addressed by the Prince and swiftly dropped to his knees, head bowed. "I wasn't attacking her, your highness" he responded, voice trembling. "Honest I wasn't" he insisted.

"We were just playing" Arya intervened, "He's Mycah, the butcher's boy and my friend" she added, hoping that the boy wasn't going to get into trouble.

Octavian adopted a grin. "If I thought he was really trying to hurt you I'd have drawn my sword in your defence not picked up this stick" he replied. "Although from his form he looked like the one that needed saving from you" he continued. "Get up and watch boy, you might learn something" he said, holding his own stick out towards Arya who initially looked amazed before grinning herself and getting into a fighting stance.

"Arya you can't hit Prince Joffrey with a stick!" Sansa protested as the two of them started to slash and parry, horribly embarrassed at the antics of her tomboyish sister although unsurprised at Joffrey behaving like her brothers did. Robb and Jon had played like this together for as long as she remembered and she reasoned Joffrey did likewise with his own little brother Tommen.

"I agree" Octavian concurred. "She's too slow to ever connect" he stated.

"Too slow!" Arya exclaimed indignantly and practically jumped at him swinging her stick wildly at his head.

Although considerably taller than the girl, who was years younger than him and short for her age anyway, Octavian somehow ducked under the stick and rapped his own against her wrist resulting in her dropping it with a yipe of pain.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard but… OUCH" Octavian cried out himself as the little girl promptly kicked him in the shins in retaliation.

"ARYA!" Sansa exclaimed in horror.

"It's alright I deserved that" Octavian responded, wincing at the pain and bending down to rub what he guessed was a bruise forming. "But letting me anger and disarm you that easily was the worst thing you did there anyway" he chided Arya. "You win with this" he said, straightening back up and pointing to his head, "as much as you do with this" he told the girl, tapping his stick on the the pommel of the sword at his side.

Arya glared at him them frowned realising she was more annoyed at herself for being so easily provoked into making a silly mistake than she was at Joffrey.

Meanwhile Octavian was suddenly aware that Arya's pet direwolf was now on its feet bearing its teeth and growling at him. "Can you call that thing off please" he requested, trying not to sound as nervous as he now felt. Already the size of a full-grown adult wolf from his own world the direwolf would apparently continue to grow to near the size of a pony, making it a rather unsuitable choice for a pet Octavian considered, if not quite as moronic as when Mark Anthony wanted two lions so they could pull his chariot around Rome.

"No Nymeria" Arya told her pet, "Sit down" she ordered, the direwolf looking at her for a moment before obeying, much to Octavian's relief.

Collecting himself Octavian threw his stick into the river. "You know they call my uncle the Kingslayer but from now on I think I'll call you the Princelimper" he told Arya, bending down to rub his shin again.

"Ummm… sorry" Arya apologised awkwardly. "You did hit me first" she pointed out.

"True but here's another truth" Octavian replied. 'Next time we do this I'm wearing greaves" he told her.

When he heard the story later that evening King Robert guffawed with laughter and told his heir to watch out she didn't kick him somewhere higher up next time, because both Ned and himself were hoping for grandchildren and having his future sister-in-law be the reason Joffrey ended up without an heir of his own would make for a "really fucking embarrassing couple of lines in The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms".

Notes:

Note from the author:

The road network in Westeros is awful, even the premier highway from North to South known as the Kingsroad would be seen as pitiful by someone from the Late Roman Republic, and spending weeks travelling from Winterfell to King's Landing (by way of the Crossroad's Inn) has made Octavian pine for the Via Appia.

The Valerian Freehold (being modelled on the Roman Empire after all) maintained a very good road network in Essos and these roads are still in use there centuries after the Doom of Valyria shattered the Freehold both figuratively and literally.

The Direwolf, sigil of House Stark, looks like a regular wolf scaled up. Octavian is right to be wary of them!

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