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My day is ruined

The throne room fell quiet while the unexpected visitor made his way to where Ned was still being held by Littlefinger.

“Not a fucking word, Sandor,” Joffrey said, rubbing his temples. “Not a fucking word.”

Sandor Clegane, a man as tall as the Greatjon, was walking by the boy’s side, openly smirking at his companion’s frustration. It was a shocking view, Ned knew the boy liked to disappear to evade his swordsmanship lessons. Robert always lamented how the boy never cared for swords.

“Now,” Joffrey said with his hands wide. “Someone gonna tell me what the fuck happened here?”

“Joffrey, sweetie. Where were you? I looked for you in your rooms,” Cersei said.

The boy sighed, deeply, almost deflating. “Mother, I told you about the tournament I organized.” Ned didn’t know what the boy was talking about, and from the looks of it, neither did Cersei. “Of course, you’d forget… Well, it doesn’t matter now, I guess. Tell me what happened?”

Cersei turned to Ned in glee. “The Lord Hand here committed—.”

“Hold up!” Joffrey cut, looking to the side. “Why are Myrcella and Tommen here?”

The boy went to his siblings in a hurry. Ned saw how Joffrey hugged them and tried to calm them. As always the boy was confusing. A mouth more befitting to a sailor, a truant escaping his studies with the master-at-arms or with the Gran Maester, but a good older brother to his siblings.

“Ser Barristan!” Joffrey called the old knight.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Escort my siblings to their rooms and keep them safe.” Joffrey turned to the red cloaks. “Vic, Nestor, help Ser Barristan with his task.”

The two red cloaks didn’t even look at Cersei for approval and broke ranks at Joffrey’s orders.

“Alright, now that that’s dealt with. Someone’s gonna tell me what in the Seven Hells happened here?”

“Your Grace, if you—”

“Shut the fuck up, Baelish,” Joffrey interrupted him. “If I wanted some fancy lie I’d ask you directly. Mother? You were saying…”

Once again, Cersei turned to Ned with gleeful vengeance written all over her face. “Lord Eddard Stark committed treason, he declared Lord Stannis your father’s true heir.”

Joffrey looked at him, then looked at his mother, and then at him again. “Right… Ser Arys, please escort my mother to her rooms. She’s tired.”

“What!? No, Joffrey my sweetling, you can’t!” Cersei pointed at Ned. “He’s committing treason, he wants our heads on spikes!”

The boy sighed, utterly defeated and turned to Ned. “My lord, do you want my head on a spike?”

Ned had confronted various hard questions throughout his life, thankfully this wasn’t one of them. “No.”

“See? Lord Stark doesn’t want my head on a spike. Now Ser Arys, if you would be so kind?”

“No! Joffrey! You need me!” Cersei said while the knight was escorting her out.

“I’ll have to check up on her later,” the boy said under his breath before turning to Ned. “Now we can talk like adults, I hope.”

Ned didn’t know what to say. All his guards had been killed, he’d been betrayed and now…

“Oh right.” Joffrey snapped his fingers. “Little Baelish, release Lord Stark and I may show you mercy just yet.”

“Your Grace,” Littlefinger said. “You should reconsi—”

“Did I stutter?” Joffrey turned to his companion. “Sandor, can you remind me what happens to tiny little insignificant men who dare not to obey me?”

A nightmarish smile painted itself on the boy’s sworn shield. “They die screaming, Your Grace.”

“Huh,” Joffrey shrugged. “Well, well, well, I couldn’t be so cruel, could I? Specially if the one disobeying my orders is a lackwit, right?”

“Of course not,” the Hound said, still with that brutal smile of his. “His Grace is as forgiving as he is wise.”

“Did you hear that, Little Baelish?”

Littlefinger let go of Ned, not before gulping. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Oh? That was pretty smart of you. Perhaps I misjudged you. Are not a lackwit Little Baelish?”

“I-” Littlefinger looked for an ally in Janos Slynt. The Commander of the City Watch turned his gaze from him. “I am an lackwit, Your Grace.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Joffrey said. “Slynt!”

“Your Grace?” The Commander straightened at once.

“Care to explain what the fuck did the City Watch do?”

“Your Grace,” Janos Slynt stammered. “uhm… you see… we were contacted to protect the royal family from treason—”

“Sandor!”

The enormous man punched the gold cloak’s commander and left him coughing, bent over himself, on the floor.

Joffrey sighed. “I seriously don’t like liars.” He moved his gaze over the rest of the gold cloaks and pointed to the man standing over Tomard’s body. “You, I know you. Your daughter is pretty good, she’s got an amazing eelo for her age.”

Ned didn’t know what ‘eelo’ was, mayhaps the boy heard the word from Robert. A word to describe a woman’s… body parts, most likely.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the gold cloak said. “Tansy is doing well, her sister wants to join her…”

“Ha! We’ll see if talent runs in the family,” Joffrey said. Ned felt something twisting in his gut at how carefree the prince was talking about a little girl. “Anyways, what the fuck happened here, and why have you killed Lord Stark guards?”

“We were ordered to, Your Grace,” the man said pointing at Littlefinger. “Lord Baelish came to Lord Slynt earlier in the morning and paid us to follow him.”

“Hmm, when you came, did you know you were to kill Stark guardsmen?”

“No, Your Grace. All we was told was that we had to protect the royal family.”

“Alright then. It seems to me someone betrayed the Hand of the King.” Joffrey looked around. “Wyl, Jos, arrest Slynt and bring him to the Lord Confessor.”

“Mercy! Mercy Your Grace!” Janos Slynt cried while two red cloaks approached him. “I didn’t know, it was Lord Baelish! He did everything! I swear!”

“Wyl, gag him,” Joffrey replied while massaging his temples. “I have a terrible headache, I don’t want to make it worse.”

Sandor Clegane chuckled at the boy’s words. “Should’ve taken a few of his teeth.”

“Shut up, dude. I’m not that brutish,” Joffrey said. “Now Little Baelish, care to tell me what the fuck happened?”

Littlefinger painted a placid smile on his face, having found something to escape his current predicament no doubt. But before he could even utter a word, the Hound’s fist met his face. Littlefinger collapsed to the floor with nary a sound.

“Duuuude, what the fuck?” Joffrey whined.

“Heh, we both know you were about to order me to punch him good,” Sandor Clegane said.

Joffrey shook his head. “Fair,” he said and pointed to two more red cloaks. “Arrest Baelish, I’ll have some fun before the Lord Confessor gets to him.”

Ned couldn’t quite understand what happened. Just minutes ago he thought he was going to die. He looked around at his dead men, and felt his gut twist at the sight. He had failed them. Utterly.

“Bring me silent sisters for Lord Stark’s men,” Joffrey said. “Unless… Lord Eddard, is that acceptable?”

There was not much Ned could do. His household and him were still in danger, but he couldn’t just leave men who died for him like this. “Get them ready as soon as possible, my household will bring them North.” That his daughters were leaving too, he didn’t say.

If the boy had an objection, he didn’t show it. After giving the orders, Joffrey turned to him.

“Well, my Lord Hand, now that were done. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to know what happened here. Should we talk here or in the Small Council?”

A/N: I had finished half a chapter on my main story when I decided to check on the news (07/04/26). Holy shit, I needed an outlet and well, since Baelish is an agent of chaos…

This is more of a crack fic, keep that in mind.

Btw, I’m thinking of a JJK fic with SI as Nanami, or a Naruto/Chaos Gacha fic with an Uzumaki SI right at the fall of Uzushiogakure. Let me know which one you may be more interested in.