3rd Month of 299 A.C. King's Landing

King Joffrey I Baratheon

He looks at the crown, not knowing what to think. A rush of emotions filling him. The crown, this has to be the crown, it has to be, it has the markings on it. His mother had not known what it was, thank the gods, but it had been at the Rock. By the gods he should have known it would be there. He looks at the crown now, cradling it in his hands, and he feels power running through it, and the images of the past, so many images, so many things running through him. It is so powerful, he is so powerful now, he feels it and he smiles then, he smiles, and looks up at his wife, his beautiful wife and says. "We have the key to winning the war right here my love."

Sansa looks at him curiously. She looks even more beautiful to him now, since giving birth to their son. "What makes you say that my king? How could a crown help in a victory over a foe such as Renly Baratheon?"

Joffrey looks at his wife and smiles, grateful for having such an interesting wife. "You have heard the tale of the First King and how he united the first men have you not my love?"

"I have." his wife responds. "The first men were separate warring tribes, unable to unite to fight the foes coming toward them, until the first king came. He forged a crown using the blood of the woman he loved, and made it into the crown that would make all the tribes loyal to him. And him alone."

"And when they sailed from Essos, they fought with the children and won and lost wars and battles. Eventually the pact was signed, but it was the crown that allowed for the pact to be signed. For the king controlled his people and the children." Joffrey says.

His wife looks at him and says. "I've never understood that part of the story. How did he manage to control the children as well? I thought they were magical?"

"They were," Joffrey responds, he pauses and then says. "They are. But the crown was more powerful than their combined magic. Oh, they had their own sorcerers try to conduct something as powerful, but they could not defeat the first king, for they did not know what had made the crown as powerful as it was. Love, love and desire, and loyalty. All of those things had made the crown powerful. The children were made into something less than what they had been, and then the long night came."

His wife looks at him curiously then. "What does the long night have to do with this my love?"

Joffrey looks at his wife and asks. "Do you know of the tale of the last hero?"

"Yes, he fought the others and took them by the storm and broke them. Uniting the children and the first men against them." Sansa replies dutifully.

"The crown was there then as well. The First king had died by then he was old, very old when the pact was signed, but afterwards the first men warred amongst themselves and the children, until the descendant of the first king found his crown once more and wore it. The power behind the crown and the person within it, made them fight together." Joffrey replies.

His wife looks at him and asks. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting my king?"

"What is it you think I am suggesting?" Joffrey asks curiously, still holding the crown.

His wife looks at the crown in his hands. "That, that crown you hold there, is the crown of legend. It is the first crown ever forged, that this is the way you will make Renly Baratheon lose the war?"

Joffrey smiles at his wife and says. "You would be right, as always my love."

His wife looks at him and asks. "How do you plan on doing that though? Does it not require some sort of sacrifice to make it work properly?"

"Yes, a sacrifice is needed, and the first king used the woman he loved. But, he did not love her." Joffrey replies.

"I do not understand." his wife responds.

"He loved her in a bodily way, but his heart belonged to another. Just as my heart belongs to you, and the Targaryen girl is our lover. We shall use her and end this farce once and for all." he says firmly.

"You mean to sacrifice her?" Sansa asks surprised.

"Yes, she has served her purpose, the time has come for her to now be used for the reason she was created." Joffrey replies his voice hard and firm.

His wife comes to stand before him then her hands on his face. He loves her, this woman, truly he does. "Will I get one more chance to play with her at least?" she asks innocently.

Joffrey laughs. "Of course my love. Go and play with her now if you wish."

His wife kisses him then and walks off toward where the girl is. Joffrey is left in the room thinking, when he is convinced that his wife has gone he says. "You heard everything I trust Spider?"

The man emerges from the shadows and laughs nervously. "I did my king. You truly mean to go through with it?"

"Yes, I do, I will see her and her family fall." he replies.

"Even though she is an innocent little girl? What would Lord Stark say?" the eunuch asks.

Joffrey looks at the man then his gaze burning into the man. "She is far from innocent. I will see her die, and you will be the one to kill her. After all, how else is your pisswater prince supposed to come out to play?" He laughs then at the expression on the eunuch's face, and smiles. "You are not as powerful as you think eunuch."


4th Month of 299 A.C. River Song

Lord Yohn Royce

This war was getting them nowhere, Lysa's forces continued to fight, even though Baelish was dead. He wondered at that, wondered why they continued to fight for so long, so firmly even though there was little left for them to fight for. Surely they knew that their time was coming to an end that the time of the falcon was coming to an end. It should have come to an end years ago, but it did not because of a decision Yohn made and they have been paying for it ever since. He can see the Eyrie somewhere in the distance, knowing that they are so close, he spurs his horse on, the field of battle is fraught with danger, but Yohn finds himself not caring, not wanting to know about the poison that lurks in the shadows.

Fighting through the grit, and the rain, it has been raining for as long as this war has been waging, Yohn keeps his head high, preventing himself from falling down onto the rocks below. They cannot lose this battle, they should not lose this battle, not with the strength they have, not with the power they have. He roars a command and they begin the slow march through the rocks and the rain, it is slippery, and Yohn feels his heart in his mouth on more than one occasion. Slowly but surely they emerge through it all and the fighting begins in earnest. Men on both sides fight with abandon, ignoring the steep descent down into an abyss without ending. It is a hell from somewhere far beyond, Yohn closes his eyes briefly and then draws his sword and begins the fighting himself.

There is something about the act of war, something Yohn cannot put his hand on, but it is something that makes him want to cry out in pain, something that makes him want to roar in anger. He sighs then, what good is it to lament the coming and going of young life when he decided on this course of action, when he was the one who decided that he would not make the same mistake as he made when Jon Arryn came calling. His sword continues throughout the crush, and the rage. He swings his sword, feels his heart hammering within his chest, not sure of what is happening beyond his own periphery, all he knows is that if he falls they are done for, he cannot fall. He takes cautious steps towards ensuring that that does not happen, he swings his sword, keeps calm and pushes forward. One small step at a time he pushes forward, determined not to end what he has not yet finished.

A roar echoes somewhere far in the distance, Yohn feels it shake his being, he is not sure if he is alone in hearing it, but from the way the men at his side jerk and shake he is not. He roars a command in response and they keep going pushing through the throng of enemy soldiers fighting them on the side and on the path, through it all his mind continues to plague him. The images he knows so well are fading, something or someone is going through it all, not remembering him, not caring for him, and how can he be this way, when before he was something else? What happened to him that made him this? This thing without sympathy, without care, without anything but a bare minimum to understand right from wrong. His hand shakes and his sword shakes with it, his mind is not fit for fighting, but his body is, his body is crying out for it.

He will not allow a bastard to sit the falcon throne, he'd rather die than allow that. And yet he wonders at the things that are happening around them, are they fighting for the right king? Is the king right in what he proclaims, is Harrold even right for the throne? Gods where are these questions coming from? He has not felt like this before now, and even now he does not know why he feels like this. Something is eating away at him, reminding him of all the things he would rather forget, it goes on and on, until there is no hope left for him. His sword acts of its own accord, the enemy keeps coming pushing through it all, and that roar, that primal sound, it inflicts something akin to pain on him.

Yohn has heard that sound once before, once long ago, when he was but a boy. He saw something when he went climbing with his brothers, before the war began in earnest. Something he thought lived only in legend, the thing had looked at him and his brothers with such curiosity that he had wondered at that. He had always thought such a thing would eat him and kill his brothers. But they had had something that the thing had wanted, and it had taken it before leaving. Gods, it had been so long since he had thought of this thing, he wanted to know what had become of this thing, but at the same time he was terrified, too terrified to find the thing and do anything about it, content to hide through the shroud of battle. There it is again, the roar, and the rocks shake and shift.

His mind is alive with activity, so much is going on within his mind, and he does not know how to change things, how to make anything better, so he continues fighting, his mind pounding with the ceaseless hum of war and battle. Men die screaming around him, he keeps himself alive and awake, but gods is he tired, so very tired. Somewhere in the distance a roar sounds once more, and this time Yohn knows he is done for, he goes laughing. A bronze giant on the horizon, screaming for vengeance.