@polyolbos sent: I'm proud of you. I don't say that enough. ( for joff from his kepa <3 )
joffrey velaryon was nothing like his brothers, a realisation he already had come to as a young boy, a painful one, though he tried not to think of it in that way. while the three of them matched in many ways physically, evidently shared plenty of attributes in that sense ( those very same ones that were oft so cruelly questioned and mocked by those who had the nerve to openly doubt their parentage ), there were plenty more that jacaerys and lucerys had in common, which joffrey, for reasons he could only attribute to the gods having, somehow, forgotten about him, forgotten that he had come not long after them, was there too, lacked. while their dark hair sat in curls upon their heads that made them appear every bit like the depictions of charming princes in the old storybooks, joffrey's hung straight, plain, while they had been given valyrian names that spoke of their ancestry and the might of their houses, he had been given a common one more oft found among lesser lords and smallfolk, while they stood to inherit two of the greatest titles the realm had to offer, would rule over the two most powerful, wealthiest houses respectively in the future, he would have nothing. and yet, he did not detest them for it as other brothers, other third sons, would, did not even, at least as long as he could help it, envy them, rather the opposite — he admired his elder brothers, greatly, admired their strength and skill and bravery, had always, especially when they had been younger, treated them as though they'd hung the moon and the stars in the sky with their own hands, as though they knew the answers to everything, and come to them for everything, trailed after them with every step, hoping to, at the very least, acquire traces of everything that made him admire them so for himself, to, at the very least, come to resemble them in some ways.
but the differences were clear, had always been there, and been evident in their treatment by those around them too, and only become more and more prominent the older they had all gotten, oft showing, more than anywhere else, upon the training grounds. whilst his brothers had long served as squires, could be knighted at once by now if they so desired, if it would not be outshined by their other titles of higher significance, none had even placed a training sword within joff's hands until he had been six. forgotten again. and though that training sword may long have been replaced by a real sword by now, though joffrey clearly had some skill to show for himself that he had worked hard and determinedly to acquire over the years of training, it was not his talent that garnered attention. luke was a natural with blades, wielding them, and oft multiple ones at once, with such dangerous precision that it was as fearsome as it was impressive, that it drew the eyes of the court to the training grounds, from ladies and knights alike, and even other individuals, such as the feared red kraken who seemed to have taken an apparent interest in the heir to driftmark. jace, too, faltered at times, but joff knew better by now than to get his hopes up, than to think that, perhaps, he and the eldest were alike in that sense, at least, in lacking that sense of perfection that seemed to surround luke once he held a sharp blade in his hands, for he could run meetings for hours, tirelessly, and effortlessly sway even the most stone-faced lords and ladies to their cause with but a few carefully chosen words, making up for what he may lack of raw talent and experience in fighting in a natural diplomatic skill, whilst joff was lucky if he was allowed to sit these meetings, even luckier if he was heard when he spoke up.
they were not the same, and today's training session was no different than many that had come before, what with his brothers eventually leaving, together, as they always did, leaving joffrey with the knights that, but an hour, or two, he had not been keeping track of the time passing by, later, seemed to tire, packing up the equipment and retiring into their barracks for supper, with the promise to the prince that training would resume in the morrow, and an urging for him to find some rest as well, for it was important when one wanted to learn.
joffrey tried not to let his disappointment show as he made his way back inside, nor dwell too much on the surfacing notion that, if either jace or luke had requested more hours of training, the knights would have readily complied — he did not wish to seem ungrateful, for he was not, he appreciated everything he could have, even the barest of scraps, and knew it was a privilege to even get to train with he best, seasoned knights of the realm. yet, he could not help but wish for just one chance, just a small one, to prove he was just as capable as his elder siblings, just as steadfast, skilled and brave, and to be seen for that.
dragonstone felt naught if not lonely around him as he made his way through dark, empty corridors, mother and siblings nowhere to be seen, stopping within the great hall to collect a handful of blackberry oatcakes and fruit left out upon the table in a thin cloth that he pinched messily together at the top, before he carried on, ascending steep, tangled staircases to the peak of the stone drum, where dense, watery clouds engulfed him, sending a, not unpleasant, chill down his arms and dampening his hair as he settled upon a stone ledge, picking through his sweet treats. he liked coming up here, especially when his heart felt heavy; it was the closest he could come to the feeling of riding tyraxes when his brothers were not available to take to the sky with him.
the sound of a voice drew his attention away from the murky sight of the sky through the clouds to where the ground dipped into the steep staircase leading down into the tall tower, a small, toothy grin ( stained red from the blackberries ) following the expression of confusion crossing joffrey's feature, the brief undercurrent of something bitter accompanying it something that was kept concealed, quickly suppressed and willed away. he had not known laenor had returned to dragonstone ( of course no one had cared to inform him ).
“ thank you, father. ” had he witnessed him upon the training grounds? any trace of wishful thinking, of hope, trying to surface, was dulled by the heaviness that had settled over his chest that he could not quite shake. perhaps for the best, for he should know better by now, and yet, he could not help it at times. “ i strive to be as good as my brothers one of these days. ”
