Outside the window, I could hear the cheerful trill of some bird. Golden specks of dust danced in a sunbeam, and the majestic sound of a bell reached my ears. Perhaps this was how every day began in King's Landing—or maybe the Great Sept was reminding the residents of the royal wedding.
They came to wake me up at eight in the morning. There was a timid knock at the door, and I shouted, allowing them to enter.
The first to enter the chamber was a well-built warrior—over six feet tall, somewhat fidgety, with flattering eyes and a cynical smile. Joffrey's memory told me that this was the border knight, Ser Tallad the Tall, who often carried out errands and orders. A kind of messenger-boy: do this, find that, run there… A decent warrior and, at first glance, a perfectly normal man—but from Joffrey point of view. As I rummaged deeper through the king's memories, I realized he was rotten and two-faced man.
"Good morning," the knight bowed. I didn't like his smile—it was insincere and self-satisfied.
Waiting for my nod, Ser Tallad walked over to the window and stood there, arms crossed over his chest.
Next came a medium-height guy, or rather a young boy, with light hair and attentive eyes now filled with worry. He slowly and cautiously slipped into the hall. Apparently, Joffrey had not treated his servants kindly—he could easily yell at or humiliate them. In one hand, the boy carried a steaming jug; in the other, a stack of towels.
Then another young man appeared—taller, older, with dark hair—carrying a wooden bucket filled to the brim with boiling water in both hands.
"May I, Your Majesty?" the first boy asked after taking a few cautious steps forward.
"Yes," I replied, straining a little to recall their names, but my memory did not fail me. The older one was Jacob Liddon, the younger Robert—though Joffrey hadn't bothered to remember his surname. They were my stewards, both from vassal families loyal to House Lannister, and both had been assigned to me by Cersei.
"How did you sleep, Your Majesty?" Jacob asked.
"Not bad," I answered shortly, trying not to make any unnecessary movements—or say anything that might raise suspicion prematurely.
"We had a splendid time yesterday, preparing for your wedding," Ser Tallad chuckled. "We drained a barrel of vermouth, and the roast boar was delicious! All the lads are still in bed!"
I ignored his overly familiar tone and turned my gaze toward the stewards.
"Ready to wash up, Your Majesty?" asked Liddon.
I nodded, allowing them to lead me to the bath.
On the way there, I was struck by Joffrey's emotional imprints—his inner views of others. He had considered his stewards very necessary and useful creatures destined by fate to serve him. Simply put, they are like essential pieces of furniture for him. Tallad he regarded better—like an owner treats a funny little dog that does a great job of following various commands.
This attitude disturbed me deeply. I'd never claimed sainthood, but I'd never despised people that much either. Gods, isn't he a jerk?
The stewards deftly filled the marble bathtub with boiling water, diluted it with cold, and one of the servants brought another bucket of hot water.
The younger one, Robert, was apparently about to undress his king. I was startled by the notion—apparently, Joffrey was not only pampered but practically carried everywhere, washed, rubbed down, and combed by others.
In short, feigning irritation, I dismissed them all and took the bath alone.
The soap was fragrant—liquid, poured into special jugs. Soft sea sponges and coarser hemp bundles served as washcloths. I enjoyed washing myself, drying off, and then brushing my teeth with a soft wooden stick with a split tip. Toothpaste was replaced here by some sort of powder of unknown composition.
The sensations were so-so —a normal toothbrush would've done a far better job, and there was certainly no trace of minty freshness afterward. But never mind, we'll use what we have.
Afterward, they brought me slippers, dressed me in a robe, and invited me to the hall, where a light breakfast awaited—ham, juice, and wine. Of course, wine—this was Westeros, after all!
Meanwhile, Ser Tallad had filled his own glass and was clearly trying to drown his hangover. His familiarity irritated me. Apparently, Joffrey had given this man far too much leeway.
I ate diligently and without haste. Was this how I was supposed to do it? Hold the spoon or fork in the left hand. It felt awkward, but my body adjusted, following the muscle memory of its previous owner.
Judging by my stewards' faces, I hadn't made any serious mistakes yet.
"Any news, Jacob?" I asked.
"None yet, Your Majesty," he replied, ever alert to my tone and eager to please. "The people in the castle are finishing the final preparations for your wedding."
"Remind me of today's schedule." I leaned back in the red leather-covered chair, doing my best to look bored.
"Everything is as planned," Jacob said, clearing his throat as he gathered his thoughts. "At ten o'clock, a light breakfast with invited guests, as well as Hand of the King, your family and the other lords."
He waited for a nod before continuing.
"Then there's a short break, during which everyone changes and prepares for the ceremony in the Sept."
"How long will that take?"
"About two hours," he said, meeting my gaze. "After that, you and Lady Margaery will receive congratulations. Then everyone disperses and rests for about an hour."
"And then, of course, the feast?"