video // Joffrey and Viserys

[bratking]

[Red is Viserys]
[Orange is Joffrey]

[The only view is of a door - the door to Viserys Targaryen’s room, to be exact - cracked slightly open, with a bucket on the rim.]

Just wait for it. [He whispers, not wanting to alert Viserys to his scheme.] He’s going to throw a fit.

[“Going to”? He’s quite already there if the way the door flies open is anything to go by. It flies open, the bucket of paint falls, and a stream of gold pours down over him, covering his head and dripping down his clothes, ready to pool on the floor. There’s no screaming at this gold over his head, every ounce of air in his lungs briefly punched out of him. The way he backs up against the wall is quick and panicked, as if he’s just had a bucket of hideous, venomous insects and snakes poured all over him. It happens quickly, and if one listens well enough between the sound of him hitting the wall and the gasp for air, they might just be able to pick up on two words rushed together:

Sweet sister.

He goes still the moment he spots Joffrey, though. Remarkably still for someone who’s so prone to being restless, which might be warning to someone else, but. Well.]

You.

[Joffrey is in the middle of a laughing fit, and takes a few seconds to catch his breath.] You should have seen your face! How pathetic!

[Far too still to be trusted, and it’s a miracle Viserys manages to remain as such when that hideous (to his ears, probably the same to everyone else in Westeros) laughter rings out. Pathetic breaks every bit of patience he has and what’s more pathetic, really, than a man launching himself at a boy a full decade younger than him? For someone covered in gold paint, it seems effortless to do as much, like some scrawny football player finally getting his chance to shine by...tackling a child to the floor.]

[Joffrey yells and hits the ground with a thud, limbs flailing about in a misguided attempt to land a blow on his attacker.] Get off of me, you brute!

Brute? Me? [He is apparently really good at this—has Joffrey been suffering this all along? Limbs flail and Viserys moves to grab at his wrists, to pin him down, ready to bodily stick him to the floor if he has to. How pathetic indeed.] Your father was the brute—hold still, hold still or it will be much worse. Hold still or I'll spit in your mouth!

Don’t you dare talk about my father! [He struggles more, despite the advice he was given.] I should have brought my bow and shot you instead!

[Good advice, too, because all that struggling does is earn him a smack, and it looks like it will only get worse before—]

[Joffrey lets out another high-pitched yell, before realizing that he’s still filming this. Not wanting to let the world see his continued humiliation (this was supposed to humiliate Viserys, after all!) he shuts the feed off.]

[ooc; takes place shortly after this post. They'll both be responding separately from their own rooms; please specify in the subject line if you only want to direct the reply at one of them!]

Comments

[emgoldened]

I am not dead. Falsehoods travel as easily as truths.

[My sister would have told me he'd add, wishes he could, but he won't have her seeing that. He's trying to behave, though this entire mess might say otherwise.

Renly almost sighs; Viserys almost scoffs.]

You denied killing your kin. If my sister and I were to be killed for our father's actions, everyone in Westeros who stood with the Usurper deserve the same. I did nothing. My sister was unborn. My mother was pregnant. Had she not died in childbirth [had she not been killed by my sister] then she would have been hunted just the same. We had no part in the game you speak of, and yet we would have been treated as such.

If we are to be treated as such, as deserving of punishment for things we had no part in, everyone bearing the names Baratheon, Lannister, and Stark should have that exact same treatment. Every Baratheon, no matter where they were or their age, is guilty.

[Is this line of reasoning that great? Not really. Is it fair? He thinks so. He sees it as true. They left him and his to suffer for things he didn't do, and while his father ordered it, it was for the best. He didn't order for them to be tracked down. He's tempted to offer something close to an apology for Renly's suffering, but he doubts it would be taken as sincerely now.

Not that much of what he says is taken sincerely. Or seriously. Had that news reached Westeros as well?]

[truegood]

I suppose that means that I, too, must live! What an occasion, we should celebrate it.

[ Renly is enjoying this, enjoying seeing some of the insanity the last king was known for written down in words in front of him. Instead of thinking too hard about it he simply lets himself write, not caring too much about the backlash. ]

You seem to forget, Targaryen, that I was but a babe when my brother overthrew the Mad King. I had little idea what was happening in the world - I was far too busy playing games with my Maester and being taught how to hold a blade without dropping it upon my toes. I hardly see how I was at fault when I could only just hold a dagger without my poor fingers shaking. But, then again, blame can be passed far too easily in our world.

It is an interesting concept, guilt, don't you think? I would enjoy exploring it with you, one day, I should think, when I have time and concern to spare for you. Until then I can simply say that you are curious and your thoughts are, at least, intriguing. Well done.

[ If Viserys could see Renly he would probably see him laughing to himself; this is far too much fun for him, truly, and he is simply enjoying the chance to poke the sore spots of all the people in Westeros that he never had the chance to speak to before his - or, in this case, their - deaths.

That and, of course, he really should be going out of his way to speak to Joffrey, but... Alas, another time. ]

[emgoldened]

[What is there to celebrate other than Viserys proving the Targaryen madness truth? That is no cause for celebration, save the sick glee it might provide all those who would tell his sister that which he's done everything he could to keep from her.

Targaryen. He won't have it. It is who he is, yes. But this, this is not an action that...his brother never would have done it. His father? He had power. Joffrey would have been burned, and who knows what would happen to his mother after that.

Things that she did everything she could to keep it from him, put on smiles that he later thought of it and wondered, exactly, how could he not see the pain in them, how could he not tell she was on the verge of tears?

I am Targaryen. I'd prefer to be called Viserys. And what is it you prefer? I very much doubt that any of you Westerosi would call me by the titles rightfully mine.

[Which the Usurper is keeping warm for me. Had he been dead then, had Joffrey been on it at that point?]

I've not forgotten. I know my history, I know every member in my family, their victories, their sorrows, their names and titles and the names of the dragons they once rode. [Knows every member. His history. Oh yes, he does. He just warps it, twists it, knots it up so that nothing can be held against his family.

Which, of course, means he's omitted certain members whenever he's spoken about them to his sister. Members who would prove the idea of their family's greatest weakness true. He couldn't have her knowing that, doubting their claim. Lies. He wants them to be true, uses everything he can to justify, to deny—but what sort of Targaryen was he in the end, other than those who went entirely mad?] I hold blame for the same I believe you should hold it for. I was young, too. I had not much experience with a dagger myself. I would have dropped it, same as any child.

Yet I was punished for nothing I did or could have stopped. Why should I not do the same? Why should I believe that to be an excuse when that mercy was never extended to me? My pregnant mother? My sister, a child herself? Why show any mercy to those who would not give me the same?

[Why? is a question he has, has always had. Why did any of it happen. Why did it have to happen? This game they play, this game he tried to play himself...to drag children into it, he finds it horrific. He was dragged into it. Everyone else should suffer the same.]

[truegood]

[ Renly is enjoying himself, curious, at least, about this man. He has heard the stories of the Mad King and his brood, had been too young to know of him in person, abandoned by his brothers as they fought a war over a woman (and, truly, he could never understand that. To him a woman was a woman and nothing more, after all). Learning another side of it, from the eyes of the opposite, was curious -- and, he hoped that no one would ever tell him that he had been quite content to allow Viserys' sister to be killed to secure his brother's lineage - at least, before he'd learned the truth.

That is what this conversation is for, he thinks. To learn, to adapt, to prepare. ]

Viserys it is, then. I did not know which curtosey to offer you, so I thought your family might be the best name as you seem most proud of it. I am Renly Baratheon and I once claimed the Iron Throne for myself, at least until I was killed by my brother and some twisted magicks.

I know my histories as well, I can assure you of that. I cannot say that I cared much for the histories of my land, which is a fault I have only recently come to understand. Perhaps if I had learned better I might yet live in Westeros. But, alas, hindsight is the vision of a seer. I cannot claim to know the world, but at least I understand enough to comprehend you.

[ There's a strange empathy between them, he thinks, and he isn't entirely comfortable with it. He was raised by his Maester and others to dislike the Targaryens and yet, here he was, conversing with one with gentility. ]

People like to blame the youth for the problems of their elders, as though we could control our fathers and siblings. But do you not think a King should offer mercy? Do you think that a king should offer mercy to those that rose up against them to prove that he is a man better than they were? I would speak no ill of my brother, truly, if I could help it, but he knew not what mercy was. It was his fault and his alone. It was a shame indeed.

switch to text/private;

[emgoldened]

Renly, then. [That Iron Throne is his. Those titles are his. He's never going to call anyone else by them...unless his father appears, and then woe to all. Woe to him. Woe to his trying to keep the idea of the Targaryen madness from his sister.] I'd rather have come back to Westeros and found a Baratheon on the Iron Throne before finding this.

[Because then it would have been much more enjoyable to kill them, and much less insulting to find a little shit who was both Baratheon and Lannister. Truthfully, he'd have loved for the Usurper to still be on it, but if it couldn't be him? Another from that family, blood of my blood (more than Joffrey), that would have been preferable.

He's quite sure that "this" will be taken for what it is—this thing, this Joffrey.

And then, because this conversation is heading places he'd rather not be seen by certain people (Dany, always Dany), he has the common sense to make it PRIVATE. He doesn't have the vision of a seer, but he knows enough of those back in his home that the name Targaryen means a few things, and there's one of them he'll never let her hear.]

What concern do you have for my thoughts on what makes a king great and what does not? [No one cares what Viserys thinks, and those who did (if they ever did) hadn't since he watched multiple deaths at his sister's wedding while stewing in bitterness about his seat.] Let's put that to the side. Understand enough to comprehend me, from what you have seen or what history you know of my family?

[I understand that you're mad or will be, is what he thinks he means, or what he will eventually say.

He doesn't like it, but he'll hear it a thousand times a day before he lets it be said to his sister.]

private.

[truegood]

I assure you, Viserys, that anything was preferable to my so-named nephew raising to be upon the throne. He was always a vile child, a shame upon the house. A Lannister he is and a Lannister he will die, I claim no blood ties to him.

[ It's strange, to be talking of a child he once almost cared for so blithely. It's a strange new world he has found himself in and he finds himself lacking the words to express the thoughts in his head. He wonders about it. ]

Call it curiosity, if you'd like. If not that call it idle nosiness, whichever means you will answer my questions with honesty. I would appreciate it.

[ Renly sighs. Sighs, deeply, and leans back in his chair as he continues to write. ]

From the histories and tales, true. I do not know the Targaryens in person; I was not but a child.

text/private forever, etc.

[emgoldened]

[Stop assuring me. Your words mean nothing. A Lannister he is—what does that mean? Of course he is. His mother is a Lannister, so what did she do to provoke such a strong reaction? Did that father of hers do something? What happened?

He wants to ask, he honestly does. However, he's talking to someone who has never met a Targaryen, who never knew them outside of rumors (he and his sister being dead) and lies (what he'd like to be lies, would like so much, would never tell his sister and cannot handle the idea that someone might), and how has he shown his family to be?

Easily riled by a Lannister, apparently. Not a good first impression.]

Asking the last son of the ruler they now call the Mad King his own thoughts does lend itself to being curiosity. [Cruelty, too. He's not sure which, but he's attempting to show that he will indulge if the motivation is right. Right to him, which can be a muddled thing. Still, his family is his family, and to deny questions when he's been denying his death all along might make him look like more of a coward than he already does. He won't even speak when asked basic questions. So defensive, though there's nothing there to defend. Why defend madness? Why deny it? It's truth.] Of course a king should offer mercy, when it is sensible. In the face of families who lived in luxury that they did not earn or deserve while they allowed two children to be hunted and hoped they would be killed? There should be no mercy.

It has been said that certain things are passed down from generation to generation. [He knows he died, but he won't let on until he can't deny it further. What else does he know? Everything that's been said against his family, and that is something he cannot deny—that it has been said. He can deny it's true. He can also deny that the sky is blue and water is wet. Same thing in the end.] So it must be with families who would do that, and then raise the younger within them to do the same.

It would be mercy to rid the world of those families, every one of them. It would be a purge sorely needed in Westeros. The people must be thought of before anyone else, mustn't they? Mercy for the people. That is what must be given, even if it costs many lives for that to happen.

That is what a good king must do.

[Why else kill his father, he who was demanding a city be burned? How is this line of reasoning any different?

He's yet to get into the way he's "justified" his father's odd behavior. He's yet to show any here that, at one time, he did fear him. As much as his mother tried to protect him, the first eight years of his life were the last eight of his father's, and they weren't good at all.]

[truegood]

[ Renly is finding this conversation more and more interesting as it goes along. He's curious about it, more than anything, wondering how far he can push the man until he snaps and the madness comes out. Has it been hidden so well? Has it not emerged yet? Everyone knows the tales, the myths of the insanity that haunts the Targaryen name, but the truth of it? Well, he had been too young to see it in person... ]

Mercy should be earned, then? Not granted? You would not allow mercy to those that bowed their knees to you should you have taken the throne?

[ A purge, then. It's expected. It occurred a little under Robert, there's no doubt about that, and he has to keep himself calm. It's just - strange and a little much to deal with right now, alongside all the pressure of his house and his death. ]

And you are a good king?

[emgoldened]

The Usurper would not have given my mother or I time to bow or knees or plead for our lives. He would not have given us the opportunity to earn it. No. Mercy should not be freely granted to those who overthrew and slaughtered and would do so again. I've heard it said that it has already started, that Joffrey's own blood turns against him now, calls him a bastard, desires the throne even if I do not think a boy that young deserves it. I would imagine any good king would have someone serve in his stead until he came of proper age, but no matter what has been said about him, I cannot imagine the Usurper as a good king when he stole the throne my father fell to death near, and then took it upon himself to follow the rest of his family and have them slaughtered as well, so far away from their home and fearing for everything. For their next meal. For clothes once they had grown. For their mother's cries as she died shortly after childbirth. This man, I could never forgive, and those who stood behind him could never earn it.

[Except the Tyrells, and the others who had been loyal to his family. He would have listened to their elders, rubbed over his chin as he thought, looking sideways to see his sister (then his wife, in his mind, had things gone according to plans he hadn't shared with anyone else), watching her reactions as men knelt and shared their stories.

Waiting for her to look like his mother once did, to sigh or frown or swallow as though she was thirsty. No, she was not the king. But she was still his queen, and he would not be his father. He would not do to her what he had done to his mother. She may have lived in fear, but he would never—

—his father was a great man. He had been greater once. But stories traveled, memories of his childhood surfaced, and although he did his best to bury it away and refuse it had ever happened, he couldn't deny it. Not forever. Not for long, and certainly not to any Westerosi who knew.]

What am I the king of, Renly Baratheon? What titles do I hold without being back in my true home? You must know it by now. I have been called it several times before. As much as I loathe it, there is one thing that can be said for the Beggar King: I earned it. I worked for it. I was not born into it. Do I despise it? Yes. But I am the king of them because of my skills with it.

More than can be said for the Usurper, who rode on his heritage as Targaryen to sit upon the throne my father held and my brother would have, had things gone as they should have.

[truegood]

Perhaps he would have been defended, had he truly been of our blood. But, Viserys, Joffrey is no Baratheon and he has no claim to the throne. He is the bastard child of his mother and his blood has no link to my brother's. He is not my nephew nor is he the true king of Westeros. He never shall be again, nor should he have been given the throne to begin with. His heritage is nothing more than blight and dishonour, a child that should never have been raised to the throne. If Ned Stark had been blessed with more sense than honour then Westeros would have thrived and, I am sure, I would have lived. But, alas, with my death came the end to my ambitions for the kingship and, much like you, I have no land to claim the title of. I am nothing more than Lord Renly, here, a Baratheon of Storm's End with the blood of royals.

[ He cannot help himself; the privacy allows him to be brutally honest about his kin, the way he feels about Joffrey and the lack of respect the witch Cersei had given his brother. All knew she slept with others, of course, as much as Robert himself did, but to bear the children of her brother and claim them as the sons of the Baratheon household? It was a dishonour he could never claim to understand.

Ours is the Fury and Renly feels that rage in his very bones.

Renly only wishes he had lived long enough to see Joffrey dethroned. ]

Perhaps you should attempt to earn some respect here, too. Do you think you will earn anyone's consideration or grace by beating children? I loathe Joff as much as you, I am sure, but you should leave his punishing to the young women that thrash him with their swords. It is far more amusing, that I can assure you.

[emgoldened]

[Viserys is being told from all sides that Joffrey is not a true Baratheon. It seems that much is known, and as amazing as it would be for that to be true, Viserys believes that this is more lies, more rumor, given by traitors to traitors in order to take, once again, what is not theirs. In the mind of someone mad who cannot spare a thought of anything good for Baratheon, for Stark, for Lannister, this makes perfect sense.

He doesn't need anything else to taint his views of Ser Jaime. This, if he ever believes it, would make his life in Asgard far worse than it already is.]

No one would have seen this had he not shown it without telling me. None of this would have happened had he not tried to be clever. None of this would have happened if not for him, and I am to be blamed? What care would you have were I to kill him? You tell you loathe him.

I do not understand this. Do you mean it as counsel for me or protection for him?

[truegood]

Is that not the child in a sentence? He tries to be clever, to be wise beyond his years, and ends up doing nothing more than making himself the fool. It's a shame he was not taught better, but, alas, his mother pandered him so. Still, the murder of a child, even one as dreadful as he, is something that should be avoided.

It is merely counsel for you. I cannot suggest otherwise. I no longer desire to extend my protection to him.