The hound shook his head slowly, and let out a long sight as Joffrey stormed off back to the Red Keep. -.PD.-
Joffrey was running, running as fast as his feet could carry him. But every time he got away from him, he was back at the armory, full of swords everywhere and nowhere to run. The bastard appeared from the shadows, licking his long, bloody wolf fangs. "You shouldn't have done that Joffrey" He said as he took a sword from the stands. "Stop! My Father is the King!" screamed Joffrey as he looked for a way out.
There was none. Only walls upon walls full of swords.
"You shouldn't have done that Joffrey" repeated the abomination as it kept walking towards him. "M-m-m-my Gr-g-grand-fa-father c-can re-re-reward- you!" he mumbled as he was finally cornered.
"Grab a sword, Lannister." The abomination told him. Joffrey took one of the swords on the stands, clutching it with all his might and swinging it threateningly towards it. "Get away!"
" Winter is Coming!!!" Said the abomination as it swung his sword in a horizontal blow right at Joffrey's neck. Joffrey tried to parry but his sword only moved slowly, at a snails pace, slowly gowing up and up and the speed of an ant. Joffrey struggled with all his strength, but it wouldn't go any faster.
"Too slow" Rasped the thing as it made a deep gash on Joffrey's neck, going all the way to his torso. The pain, oddly enough, didn't hurt so much.
It was the purple that seemed to surround him that drove Joffrey mad with despair.
NO! Please NOOO! NOT AGAIN!!! He could already feel his neck twisting-
He awoke with a gasp, half expecting to find vomit all over the floor and the Hounds judgmental looks, but… it was just his traveling tent. Joffrey took some quick breaths, and looked down. He was drenched in sweat. He made himself a ball and stayed there, unable to sleep throughout the rest of the night. When morning came, he stepped outside to find the Hound guarding his tent door. "Ho-Hound" He said, shaken. "Let's c-continue the training".
Clegane nodded.
After the whole morning doing baby slow exercises, learning the basic stuff that apparently every lords son knew by 7, Joffrey was finally out of that fucking suit. Even with all the padding he felt like he had been trampled on by a pack of horses. He had ridden on his mother's wheelhouse, and had thought about tormenting Myrcella before sleep claimed him. He was just too fucking tired to care.
He decided he was going to bide his time in his fourth life. There was no sense in rushing things. After all, Joffrey thought, things had mostly been going his way up to his wedding. So it was kind of stupid to mess up things now. Sure the 'Young Wolf' made a mockery of his reign and had been scarily closed to ending his rule… but he had eventually won, hadn't he?
Sometime past the Neck, when the cold wind blew and Joffrey felt weak beneath all his furs, alone in his tent, he would wonder if that decision hadn't come about because the thought of facing the Stark brothers again made ice curl at his stomach.
-.PD.-
He spent his time in Winterfell mostly on his own, avoiding everyone, especially the Starks. When the imp came to make him give his sympathies to Lady Stark after Bran's fall Joffrey barred the door to his chambers, and no about of eloquent ramblings by the imp would budge him.
Finally the week was over and they returned South, moving again at a snail's pace and with the arch-traitor and its daughters in tow. The sudden impulses flared up every time he looked at Lord Stark, and he had to breathe deeply to avoid cleaving open his stomach every time he saw him. The traitor was already plotting his usurpation, waiting for his Father to die. The very thought of him talking every morning with his Father made his blood boil. It should be HIM, his SON that the King should laugh with in the morning, take hunting, and share tales. ME!
He swallowed his anger. Soon.
When they arrived at the Red Keep Joffrey continued as usual with his routine, with a few changes. He redoubled his training with the hound, and tried to spend as little time with the useless Sansa as he could. He couldn't avoid the occasional flare up around her even so though. Sometimes he would leave her shaking her head in confusion and sometimes with tears. It served to conserve his patience.
The day his Father died the Arch traitor made his move, as expected. Slynt and Baelish led the goldcloakes into the throne room and Joffrey licked his lips in anticipation.
His brave mother ripped the fake Will as always, and Slynt's men butchered the Traitors guards as it was destined. "Don't kill Lord Stark, take him to the black cells!" He said as he stood up, just to make sure. He wouldn't be having the traitor go the easy way… oh no. Not even like last time. He had something special planned for the Arch-Traitor.
As his men took him to the black cells where he belonged, Joffrey swallowed triumph.
At last… I am King. No one can stop me now.
The throne felt as powerful as ever, and he felt his body had been molded for it.
Tonight…
-.PD.-
He had been planning this for over a week, all preparations had been made, from the plaza in front of Baelor's Sept, to the instruments needed for tonight. The bloodlust had been growing within Joffrey, and it took his entire will not to start cutting up someone up as he silently went down the stairs, only accompanied by the torturers assistant. They stopped in front of the traitors cell, and Joffrey smiled.
Stark squinted at the torch in Joffrey's hand. "V-Varys?" He asked.
"No, Lord Stark. Me" Said Joffrey, the light of his torch casting a macabre light on the array of knives and torture implements carried in a tray by the torturers assistant.
"P-Prince Joffrey? If you're going to kill me, just do it" He said as he struggled to look at the tray. "Oh no Stark, Not this time" He said as he opened the cell doors. -.PD.-
When morning came in the plaza of Baelor's Sept, the crowds had already assembled. Bellow Baelors statue, in the small platform that elevated them from the smallfolk filth, sat Joffrey and the rest of the Lannisters, Clegane, Ser Illyn Payne, the members of the small council and Sansa, all either sitting or standing, waiting for Stark to arrive from the cells. Joffrey sat in the middle of them all, waiting.
This will teach them. No one will dare rebel after this, there will be peace. My Peace.
Both the crowd and the nobles on the dais looked puzzled as instead of Lord Stark, the guards carried a small wheelbarrow towards the execution spot. Curiosity turned to bewilderment when the stench of the wheelbarrow reached them.
Joffrey stood up. "People of King's Landing!" Joffrey proudly declared. "Lord Eddard Stark plotted to take my rightful throne before my Father's body was even cold, and now he has paid the price ALL traitors will pay in MY reign!" Mother was looking at him then at the wheelbarrow, trying to understand, and his uncle Jaime was making his way towards it while Sansa just looked confused.
"BEHOLD!" He shouted with relish as he gestured the guards.
The wheelbarrow was tilted a bit forward, and the blanked on top of it was revealed. Inside was Lord Stark's body… What remained of it. His body was chopped up in pieces, his face a rictus of horror and pain. Cuts and torn flesh run through the length of body in a gruesome display of the fate of traitors.
A sudden sob, so full of anguish and despair that Joffrey turned to look around, filled the square. It was made all the more harrowing by the heavy silence that had descended all over the plaza. Sansa seemed to convulse, on her knees, grabbing her hair and screamed and screamed and screamed.
So distracted was Joffrey by the screaming he didn't see at first the wild grey thing that scuttled up the steps, passing between his surprised red cloak guards. "FATHEEEER!!!" Screamed… Arya? Joffrey fumbled for his sword as the mad girl with some kind of small rapier dashed between or underfoot his useless, gaping kingsuards.
The hound's lessons was the only thing that saved him.
He parried one, two blows. The third one was not looking so good for Joffrey, but fortunately, all he had needed was to buy time. The Hound ruthlessly swung his massive sword and almost cut the Arch traitors youngest in half. Blood was sprayed all over the dais as the crazy girl gaped at her slit belly before she toppled backwards.
Joffrey looked around as he sheathed his sword but the overall reactions were… not what he had been expecting. Cercei was looking at Starks body and then at Arya with her hand in her mouth, silent. The guards all around were shifting uneasily inside their armors, swiftly eying the corpse before looking back
at the crowd. All around Baelors Sept there was silent, broken only by the wailing sobs of Sansa.
His uncle Jaime seemed to snap out of it. "Guards! Form square! Back to the Red Keep now!" he started shoving red cloakes around until them got into some kind of box formation. Jaime approached Joffrey. He was going to grab him by the shoulder, but seemed to think better about it. "My King, we better leave now." He told him, with a look of… disgust?!
After the reveal of Starks body Joffrey had been looking back and forth in mild confusion, nonplussed by everyone's else's reaction. After Aryas attack he had shaken out of it, but as they moved through the road back to the Red Keep, the smallfolk scattering out of the way, Joffrey looked at his hands, shaking his head. Why had been everybody so shocked?! Was it not a fitting punishment for a traitor?
When they were safely back to the Red Keep, a still weeping Sansa was taken to her rooms, now crying for the death of her sister too Joffrey guessed. His uncle Jaime and her Mother were speaking quickly between themselves.
"Lord Stark… tortured to death and his youngest daughter slain in front of the entirety of Kings Landing. The seven hells will freeze before the Northerns make peace with us" Said Jaime as he gave Joffrey an inscrutable look. "Then we will have to win then, wont we Jaime" Said a shaken Cercei as she squeezed his hand.
She turned to Joffrey. "… Sweetie, aren't you feeling a bit tired after today? I think you need some rest." She said, signaling some guards. Joffrey nodded silently as the storm of strange feelings inside him only grew.
-.PD.-
Joffrey had spent the next couple of days mainly on his bedchamber, thinking. When he remembered what he did to Lord Stark he felt a fierce satisfaction. But when he remembered the moment he revealed his deed to King's Landing, the ominous silence and the awful, damned howling sob of Sansa, he felt nauseous. He wasn't sure at what exactly, but he hadn't eaten for about 3 days after that, chucking back out even mashed food. Sometimes, when he had been little, he remembered he had gotten through similar episodes after his first times experimenting with rats…
The worst were the dreams. He would hear Sansa's sobs and screams again and again at the same time he tortured Lord Stark in the black cells. She sat on the corner not begging him to stop, just sobbing and looking at every detail of his Father's torture with her wide eyes. He tried to stop, if only to make her SHUT UP, but his hands continued on with his bloody work despite all that he tried. He would wake up with a deep pit in his belly, his bedsheets drenched in sweat and his pillow wet and salty.
After about a week of this, Joffrey decided to confront Sansa, in a desperate effort to figure out what was going on.
When he inquired about her, one of his guards shook his head in bewilderment. "The Lady Sansa m'prince?" He asked without meeting his eyes. "She managed to slay 2 guards with a kitchen knife before she was taken down trying to 'scape m'prince" he hurriedly said as he moved on with his duties.
Joffrey was left paralised.
So the useless, simpering bitch had a bit of courage after all. He thought, strangely shaken by the tale. He shook his head. What the fuck did it matter anyway? The rest of the Starks would die and the Tyrells would arrive in a couple of weeks with his future Queen. He just had to wait.
His mother had been serving as hand while he had been… indisposed. She seemed to be doing a good job at it, so she let her be. After all, the court was boring. Sometimes simpering smallfolk would come to the castle begging for this or that. Joffrey would have had them shot with arrows or made to dance to his amusement if he had been sitting in the throne… probably.
-.PD.-
It seemed his handling of the Arch-Traitor and the deaths of the two Stark girls had somewhat… backfired.
The traitor Robb Stark, called "the Red Wolf" by friends and foes alike had skipped the Twins and rushed south, not even bothered by the siege of Riverrun. He had clashed against his Grandfather Tywin in a surprise attack over the Green Fork. Details were sketchy, but some kind of trap had been sprung and the enraged Northern army had fallen like a pack of bloodhounds upon the Westerland armies. It was rumored Robb had drowned Tywin himself on the red stained waters of the Green Fork, but that was unconfirmed. The only thing for certain as of a few days ago was that his granduncle Kevan had been leading the shattered Westerland remnants in a fighting retreat south, and that Jaime, who had just taken control of the troops in Riverrun, had lifted the siege and was dashing to rendezvous with them at Castle Darry.
The war was suddenly in the balance… but he would prevail. The traitor Robb was as stupid as he was blinded by his "Honour" that had gotten him killed the first time around, Joffrey was sure it would get him killed this time too.
-.PD.-
The war was turning desperate.
The Red Wolf had surrounded and annihilated Kevan's remnants, and 4 days later he had stolen a march from Jaime and conducted some kind of mid night ambush that had taken heavy casualties from both sides. Joffrey lacked the military understanding to judge whether it had been a stalemate or a defeat to the Lannisters, but his uncle Jaime had been steadily retreating south since then.
His mother had sent Lord Baelish to woo the Tyrell's at about the same time she had done so in his first life, so they should still arrive to smash Stannis in the rear and hopefully push the mad wolf back.
He was not worried.
The pit in his stomach continued to grow larger with each day.
-.PD.-
Uncle Jaime was dead. As the shattered remnants of his army reached King's Landing the details started trickling in. There had been a decisive battle at the outskirts of Brindlewood that had shattered his army, though the Northmen had taken heavy casualties and their advance had been stopped indefinitely. His uncle had not gone down alone, however. Lord Umbers son the Smalljon, Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark, Robb's wolf and Theon Greyjoy had fallen by his blade, and the filthy savages were nursing their wounds well beyond Hayford Castle, but still too close for comfort to King's Landing.
His Mother had been despondent at the news, and had locked herself in her room and would not come out, which left the business of ruling to him. It was an incredibly boring task that had Joffrey wishing for his crossbow, but for some reason he could not summon the will to call for it.
The Red Keep had been steadily turning itself into a lonelier place as time went by. The traitorous Hound had abandoned Kings Landing 2 days after the debacle with Lord Stark and the imp was rumored to have gotten his head chopped off at Harrenhall's Heart Tree. Both his brother and sister had boarded a merchant ship headed for Lannisport, away from the fighting a week ago. And now with Jaime dead and his Mother not responding to anything… it was eerily quiet around here.
Even the Imp's sarcastic banter would have been better than the silence… and maybe drive back the increasingly terrifying nightmares he'd been having in his room, atop a ghostly quiet tower.
-.PD.-
His was probably going to die.
Stannis had been disembarking men after men, even more than last time for some reason, and his ships crossed the Blackwatter Rush with impunity, bombarding the cities defenders. With no one else to do it, Joffrey had gotten to the walls to lead the defense, for all the good it had done.
He had run around the walls commanding his men to fight for their King, but it hadn't done much good. Stannis men kept climbing the ladders, and the battering ram had already taken down the Mud gate and there were scattered reports of the defenders breaking and running.
"Where are you going!? Fight! Fight for your King damnit!" Joffrey screeched. No one even looked at him as the men started to run, each time in larger panicked mobs.
Just when everything was ready to go to the hells, a horn sounded in the distance.
Stannis men outside the walls turned around in confusion, and got a face full of Reacher knights on their rear, proudly carrying the Banners from the houses of the Reach, most prominently the Tyrell Rose.
Joffrey was exhausted, but so relieved he almost peed himself.
Yes! Baelish had done it again!
He got down from the walls, knocked around a bit by Stannis men who were fleeing back to their ladders and had lost all cohesion. He finally got off the wall and walked towards the gates, ready to meet the Tyrells like a warrior this time and not like a cowering child like last time. The Reacher knights were going at a full gallop, not even slowing down as they reached the destroyed gates.
Typical Reachers, always trying to steal the glory for their fucking songs, thought Joffrey.
The knights passed the gates. They were not stopping.
With a bellow, they shouted.
"For King Robb!!!"
"The Reach and King Robb!!!"
"Red Wolf! Red Wolf!"
"For Renly!!!"
"For Eddard!!!"
Mixed with the knights of the reach was the Northern army, and it was coming straight to him through the main road, tossing torches towards nearby houses and slaughtering the shattered City Watch.
He madly searched for a horse as the knights steadily got closer. "You! Escort your king to the Red Keep now!" He commanded two red cloaks who were fleeing the Northmen and Reachmen. The two guards looked at each other in disbelief. "Escort you to the Red Keep?! The Red Wolf will kill us all!!!" shouted one of the guards.
Joffrey was going to offer all the gold in the treasury when the other guard, who looked a bit more rational, took a closer look at him.
"The King you say?!" He all but shouted.
"Yes yes! Now, the treasury--"
"Wyll! If we give the King to the Red Wolf maybe we'll be spared!!!" he said.
The other guard suddenly looked at Joffrey considering. "Get him!" he said as they both rushed him.
"Wha -" Joffrey didn't even have time to speak before the two red cloaks grabbed him with their strong arms and beat him senseless with their sword pommels.
-.PD.-
Joffrey's vision slowly cleared as he came back to his senses. He could hear screams in the distance, and the air tasted of… ash…
Joffrey shook his head, but it only made the pain worse. Trying to open his eyes, he saw it was bright everywhere, but the illumination was not coming from the sky, it was coming from all around him. Joffrey tried to shake his head once more before his eyes finally snapped opened.
King's Landing was burning.
He got up, and found out he was in the dais beside the Sept of Baelor. He was surrounded by, must have been a thousand Northmen.
Near him was Lord Baelish, clad in simple armor with his trademark smirk, accompanied by Lady Stark and Loras Tyrell, both looking quite somber, not saying a word. And all looking behind him.
He turned around and found Robb Stark.
He was not the Young Wolf.
The Red Wolf had a strange, almost vacant stare as he seized him up. He was full of ash and covered in blood… and he had a sword in his hand.
A sword he wordlessly tossed at Joffrey's feet. Joffrey slowly took it, taking the guard position the hound had taught him. The Red Wolf extended a hand to his left, and a fierce looking woman in armor came out of the crowd, giving him a one handed mace. "L-l-l-look… m-m-m-my.." Joffrey blabbered as he tried to come up with someone who could help him. His uncle Jaime couldn't threaten anyone, he was dead. His Father the King was dead. His Grandfather was dead. Not even the Imp's poisoned words could help him now, he was dead too.
The Red Wolf however, didn't even seem to be hearing him. He was walking at a sedate pace towards Joffrey, swinging his mace slowly from side to side. Joffrey was utterly terrified.
Despite the Red Wolf's slow strides, he somehow seemed to close the gap in two seconds. Joffrey attacked first, trying to cleave his head in half. Robb parried the blow and head-butted him in the face, sending Joffrey stumbling back as blood freely flowed from his nose.
Robb stopped for a second, and then without a word, continued walking, same pace as before.
Joffrey got up, and swung again, this time to Robb's side. The mace blocked it, and smashed Joffrey's fingers with the counterblow. He dropped the sword as he mewled with pain, stumbling back, trying to get away from the Red Wolf. But Robb kept moving, never saying a word, not taking his terrifying, empty eyes off him. He quickly catched up with Joffrey and swung towards his thigh with unbelievable force. The blow made a loud CRACKas Joffrey tumbled down, crying in pain. He could see his femur sticking out of his leg, and blood was squirting out of it like a fountain. Before he could even think what to say, Robb swung again, breaking his left arm, and again, exploding his right hand as he sought to shove Robb away. The burning Sept of Baelor cast an otherworldly shadow as the Red Wolf tilted his head down, looking straight at him…
"He- … traitor-" CRACK, "I'm so--" CRACK "--plea-- " CRACK. Joffrey's speech got more incoherent each time the machine like arm of Robb Stark descended with its mace, each time striking a different place. A dozen cracks later Joffry was a bloody heap on the floor, his mouth a bloody ruin. He couldn't speak anymore, his teeth had been crushed.
Still the Red Wolf said nothing. He kneeled down over Joffrey, and grabbed his throat with both hands. He squeezed and squeezed with unrelenting force, his lifeless eyes never leaving Joffrey's.
Joffrey struggled in vain, trying to get away from those eyes but every time he tried the Red Wolf would turn Joffrey's neck and face him again. All while he kept squeezing.
He squeezed and squeezed and soon the Red Wolf's eyes and everything else turned purple as his throat continued to be throttled, even as his windpipe shattered again and again and a sour pain filled every nerve in his body.
-.PD.-
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls
And not a soul to hear
Wonder if the Red Wolf got a song too…
Though I think ashes would take the place of the rain…
Remember to comment!
INTERLUDE I: THE PRINCE'S CONDITION.
Interlude I: The Prince's Condition.
The Hound had been guarding Prince Joffrey's bedchamber like a gods damned stool for several hours now. He walked a couple of circles in front of Joffrey's door, shaking his stiff muscles, and popped his head over the nearby window.
Aye, must be midday already. The little shit sure's taking his time getting ready, thought Clegane. Though it did bother him that the prince had called no servants to aid him with his clothes. He swore the little shit was incapable of tying his own breeches.
Must have overslept, the Queen will not be too happy with me If I just leave him in there.
Making up his mind, the Hound knocked the door.
When nothing happened he knocked harder. "Prince Joffrey, its getting late and the family will be dining soon!" he said as he tried to suppress a sight. Sometimes his job wisent too much different than a nanny or a septa…
Still no answer.
Bastard must still be asleep.
He opened the door (fortunately Joffrey had not locked it) only to find the Prince still in bed, looking at him. Why haven't he just answered? Thought the hound, exasperated.
Suppressing a scowl, the Hound tried his best to sound entreating. It was really the best to do if the prince was in a sulking mood and you wanted him to cooperate. "Come on Prince Joffrey, its almost bloody midday, you must be starving." He said. There, that ought a do it. The little shit hadn't eaten last night, after all, he must be starving.
Joffrey didn't even twitch. His eyes were fixed on a grey spot on the wall, which contained nothing out of the ordinary to Clegane's eyes. "Prince Joffrey… My Prince…? Joffrey SNAP OUT OF IT!" The Hound almost yelled the last one, out of patience as he snapped his fingers a meter off Joffreys face. With the loud snap of his fingers he finally got a reaction.
Joffrey seemed to rock back slightly as he turned his eyes to Sandor. It was then Clegane discovered this was no usual sulking. Joffrey's eyes didn't focus on the Hound, they seemed to stare a mile beyond him. Joffrey blinked slowly, as if only just now recognizing the Hound.
He blinked a few more times. Finally, he whispered "Go away" in a weak tone as he slowly turned the other way and cuddled under his sheets.
"… Prince Joffrey?" asked the Hound, now confused. It made him remember… bad times. It made him remember the empty stares of the smallfolk villagers that had been brutalized by his brother… the Mountain.
Whatever the reason, he'd better tell the royal family sooner rather than later, so as to not be dragged into the whole affair…
-.PD.-
I can hope,can't I? The hound thought morosely.
"What do you mean he won't join us, Clegane?" Asked Cercei, her tone frosty. Pretentious bitch, thought Sandor as he kept a straight face. Not that Robert would be bothered about it, in fact he'd probably laugh out loud and maybe even reward him if he said it out loud. No, it was his liege lord Tywin Lannister that restrained Sandor's behavior.
The King didn't seem to care, his meal had started an hour ago with strong ales and was now devouring the pork with such primal joyfulness it made the Hound a little envious. "It appears the prince is not feeling so well." Said Sandor shrugging his big shoulders, not an easy fit in armor.
The Prince's siblings appeared to have taken the news with relief and more than a bit of happiness. They were now talking amongst each other and laughing at this or that.
Suddenly the King stopped chewing through one of his pork chops, and stared at Clegane. Sandor stiffened with attention, even well past his prime King Robert could project obedience when he wanted to… Not that that happened often. "You think he's still sulking because of the North?!" Asked Robert,
dangerously. Even though he still hadn't swallowed some of the pork chop on his mouth, Sandor thought he still looked dangerous. "I really don't know, Your Majesty." Said Sandor, warily.
"We can't have that, not after yesterday." Said the king as he washed down the last of the pork chop with ale, and stood up. He scoffed at Cercei's warning glare, "Seven Hells woman, I'm not going to strike him. I'll just shake his lazy bum." He said as he strode out of the small dining room, gesturing at Sandor to follow him. "Might as well learn how to do it!" he joked as he slapped Sandor on the back. He could feel the blow even past the partial plate that protected his back.
They quickly made it to his room, but the door was already open. They entered and found various servants, cleaning and servicing the room, though keeping well aware of the bed. In it, Joffrey was snuggled in a fetus position, his hands under his armpits. His frame was remarkably immobile, except from the small, low intensity shiver attacks he would suffer randomly.
"Well, what's going on?!" Boomed the King. The servants all stopped what they were doing and kneeled. "Your Majesty, we just found him like this, and he didn't object to us carrying out our duties as normal" Said the oldest of them, eyes firmly on the floor. The King nodded "Aye, you seem to be doing a good job of it." He gazed as Joffrey's form, again stuck looking another spot on the wall, this time in the corner.
"If this is about not going to the North again your mother won't protect you, boy." He said as he stood in front of Joffrey. "Joffrey… JOFFREY!" He bellowed at close range. The boy hadn't even noticed, he was staring at the spot on the wall, muttering something under his breath. "… not the… no… no…." He
mumbled. For the first time since Sandor knew him, the King looked somewhat worried, eying Joffrey. "Son?" he asked softly. Whereas Robert's bellow didn't have any effect, this soft whisper seemed to rock Joffrey, he seemed to start shaking and clutched his father's arm like a limpet. "Please… don't let him…" he whispered weakly. A few minutes passed as Robert awkwardly petted Joffrey's hair, and soon he was asleep.
-.PD.-
"It seems an indigestion coupled with fever, most likely, your grace. In fact--" Pycell droned on, babbling about the Prince's supposed Illness. Sandor promptly ignored him, and it seemed Robert had too. He grabbed the hound by the shoulder as he guided him a few meters back, leaving only the Queen listening with rapt attention and anxiousness to the Grand Maester.
"A fever… bollocks!" Snapped the King. "I've seen that look before, and it was not because of an 'indigestion'" he snorted indignantly. The hound nodded for him to go on. He didn't know why the King was telling him this, but he guessed he needed someone to talk about this. Prince Joffrey's… condition was oddly unsettling, something the Hound suspected should not be seen in children.
"I saw it after the Battle at the Trident, whole packs of men wandering about without their wits, looking at something as if it were leagues away, or staring at their bloodied hands in confusion. I don't like this Clegane, not one bit." He said, shaking his head.
Clegane stood silent, wondering. Could some Targeryen loyalist have gotten to the prince between last night and today?
He didn't think so.
-.PD.-
Anyone would have been pretty traumatized after the last loop, but with Joffrey's weak psyche… well, something was bound to break. Dont worrythough, I'm sure he'll recover in time for more interesting developments… mostly anyway.
CHAPTER 4: AN OFFERING.
Chapter 4: An Offering.
The purple kept twisting and twisting… is it never going to end? Thought Joffrey, seeing the Red Wolf's eyes as they glowed through the purple. He tossed and turned, until it was warm again.
Warmth…
He thought he'd never feel it after… --
Those eyes… he felt the rhythmic hammering of the war mace striking his body again and again.
He shivered again as he grasped his bed sheets closer, trying to repulse the cold invaded his body again, seeping like the chill at Baelor's Sept. Had it been raining? He thought it had. Or he could have been confused… the rhythmic pounding of rain bore a strange resemblance with-- Crack… Crack… Crack… He shivered again, and he thought he could feel the pounding starting again. It was strange, hadn't he died? He was safe wasn't he?!
He was not sure… Joffrey thought he could hear the Red Wolf prowling nearby… ready to-
"JOFFREY!" Snapped the hound. He rocked back, trying to shield himself with a sword that wasn't there.
Of course… I'm in my chambers. Joffrey was mildly relieved at that, he was safe now… right?
"Go away" He told the hound. He was not sure, better to stay here in the warmth, better to be safe than sorry. He retracted himself below the sheets, sheltering below their confortable weight.
It wasn't enough though. The shakes kept coming each time he remembered… each time he.. Those vacant eyes… gods please make him stop… CRACK. Gods please no- CRACK gods pleaseCRACKhelpCRACKnoCRACKnoCRACK--
"Son?" Said a sudden voice. It was his Father. Father… He'd protect him!!!
He struggled to move his limbs, which felt oddly heavy, and grasped him with all his might. "Please make him stop Father, please make him stop!" He tried to say, but he wasn't too sure of what came out of his mouth… and the shakes were coming again.
-.PD.-
Joffrey didn't know how much time had elapsed in this life. His perception about it seemed to alter depending on the day. His routine though remained fairly constant. His Mother would help him eat his breakfast, after which the servants would clean his body, slowly as any sudden movement would make him screech in terror. The hound would then take him to the Red Keep's topmost tower on the Grand Maester's orders, so he could benefit from the fresh air. He was not too much time up there though, he tried to hold as long as he could but sooner or later he was back in his room, covered up in his bed. Some afternoons he would go back out at, strangely, his Uncle Jaime's behest. They would talk as they walked through the battlements… well, Jaime talked, he just bobbed his head, glad that his voice was drowning the sound of King's Landing burning to ash. Night was both his favorite and most terrifying time. He would lay on his bed, getting more agitated by the minute, anxiously waiting…
Until she finally arrived. His Mother would pet his head and sing him meaningless songs, cuddled safe with him under the bed sheets… it was the only way he could sleep.
As the days and months passed by, Joffrey liked his new existence. Things had been… complicated before… painful. It was in this state of safety that reality came crashing back.
His Mother was here again. She didn't have to help him eat any more, Joffrey was capable of that now. It had been somewhat shameful now that he thought about it, not being able to eat one's own supper… Still, he appreciated it when she still came, it made him feel more… focused, he guessed.
"Joffrey, my son, I need you to get dressed now." She said as several, nervous looking servants entered and starting clothing him with his princely robes. Joffrey started breathing a bit more rapidly. "Mother… W-What's going on?" He asked her.
She smiled as she touched his head. "Just some courtly business, we have to pass sentence on some criminals now, you see Joffrey?" She told him gently. Joffrey nodded dumbly as the Hound escorted him to a carriage by the Red Keep's gate. He started to shake again as they departed through the crowded streets of King's Landing. He hadn't left the red Keep in… Years, he was sure of it.
As they came to a stop, the Hound escorted him up the steps to the… dais above the plaza, right in front of Baelor's Sept. Where Eddard Stark lied kneeling and chained. Oh no, it's happening again.
He wanted to scream, run away, but his traitorous legs and the Hound's firm grip kept him going towards the makeshift throne.
Everyone was there. The small council, the guards, his mother. Even Sansa and… Bran Stark?! That shook him out of his cloud like trance, grounding him back to Planetos.
The crowd was booing as Eddard Stark confessed his treason. "-usurp the throne from my rightful King-" Stark said as Joffrey franticly shook his head. What had happened last time?! His memory was sluggish and slow, but he remembered. Lord Stark's death… the disaster at the Green Ford… the Red Wolf… Crack.
"In the name of King Joffrey, first of his name--" His mother was passing Lord Stark's sentence! He jumped out of his throne. By the seven he had to stop this, lest the abomination get close to him again and King's Landing burn to ash once more. "L- lord E-e-eddard Stark…" What to say what to say! Gods, couldn't the traitorous bastard and his ilk just stay away?!!?
That's it!
"B-by the l -love my F-father held for y-you…" He could feel his guts twitching at the thought of what he was about to do. Anything to get away from the Red Wolf.
"… I banish y-you and your family to the North, n- never to return again in y-y-y-your l -l-l-life" -he finished lamely. His mother was already making his way to him, gesturing at the Red Cloaks to stop Lord Stark. The sight of his mother shamelessly countermanding his orders in plain sight brought a bit of his older self back, filled with wrath. "O-obey your K-king! Release Lord Stark and his f- family immediately!" He ordered. His startled guards obeyed their King, and Cercei was silent, lest the people see their King ordered about.
Sansa cried with joy as she hugged a befuddled Lord Stark, Bran close behind, glaring at the Lannisters and trying to hold back tears. As a bewildered Lord Stark made its way through the booing smallfolk crowd, a small grey thing jumped him from the side. Eddard too started crying as he recognized the youngest Stark girl. Right, that was the one that almost killed me. He thought.
"Hound, you are to make sure all the Starks leave King's Landing and return North safely. Your King commands you!" he told him. The hound nodded warily, leaping out of the dais and following the Starks. That way the smallfolk or anybody else wouldn't get any ideas.
As everyone else made its way back to the Red Keep, he spotted his mother and his uncle speaking in hushed tones. He couldn't hear them, but the familiar sight gave him chills. Hope the fucking Starks stay in the North… as much as they deserve to die, its better this way.
Yes, let his family mutter all they want. They didn't know it but he'd just saved them from the Red Wolf. -.PD.-
The next weeks Joffrey slowly came back to his older self. He even started to hold court occasionally, as boring and useless as that was. Still, there were fun moments. Like now for example, with this bard… what was his name? He didn't care anyway. The one that had jested about his Father and Mother, this time when he ended his performance he didn't give him the choice between his hands and his tongue, he just ordered Ser Illyn to take to cut off his right hand. Served him right… He chuckled at the pun as they carried away his broken form.
He almost missed tormenting Sansa, but even the thought of her brought bad, Red flashbacks, so maybe it was all to the good.
His grandfather Tywin had arrived and subsequently departed from King's Landing last week. He was going to shred whichever of his traitorous Baratheon uncles survived the other one this time. He'd barely stopped by the Red Keep, but that hadn't stopped his Grandfather from berating himlike he was some unruly child. The mere thought of that meeting threatened to bring that sadistic rage back.
He had made him, his King, come to his new solar in the tower of the Hand, and he'd had the temerity to scold him!
"Joffrey" he said as he somehow laid back on his chair but still managed to maintain a ramrod straight back. "I understand that you've had some difficult days even before your father died, but what you did to the Starks was utter idiocy." He said, his expression unmoving, impossible to determine. "I understand exiling Lord Stark, but your soft feelings lost us not only your betrothed, but two other valuable hostages. What if Lord Stark decides to march back south, but this time with an army down Moat Cailin?" His tone of voice had not changed throughout the whole thing, yet Joffrey could feel the disappointed frustration in
waves as if it were a physical thing. "Grandfather--" he started, but Tywin had interrupted him as if he were nothing. "Your excuses don't matter to me. Kevan is assembling another host at the Golden Tooth while I deal with the Baratheons here in the south. If the Starks move he'll blockade the river crossings and buy time while I come back from the Stormlands."
Joffrey had shooked with rage at this, he wanted to shout at the old bastard that he was the only reason he was not being drowned at the Green Fork at this very moment… but… this was where a revelation had hit Joffrey. He was scared of his Grandfather. The Lannister Patriarch seemed immune to his threats and commands, he seemed to dare him to order him incarcerated or harmed, and he was always so godsdamned confident and invulnerable. Intellectually, Joffrey knew that was not true. The bloated, drowned body on the Green Fork confirmed otherwise. But still…
In the end, he said nothing, troubled by the bubbling thoughts that surrounded him as Tywin basically told him to behave and leave the tough choices to him. Besides… Tywin had been right, Joffrey recognized. There was no reason they couldn't have kept the Stark girls or the boy. In his other life it had been the torture of Lord Stark and the death of both his daughters that had unleashed the Red Wolf. Even in another life, the Red Wolf had got to him.
Tywin departed to the Stormlands the next day, at the head of the Westerland's Might.
His recovery was not complete anyway, and his sleep was always troubled. Sometimes the servants would find him shaking or staring off into the abyss at random times, in hallways or even sometimes in the Iron throne itself, though no one was foolish enough to speak about it. Still, he often found himself remembering his last life before it went to the hells. He remembered Lord Starks look when he had been finishing his torture, cutting his chest out for the last few times. He had been nearly dead, and Joffrey was not sure if Lord Stark had been all there anymore, then he'd said it.
"There's… something… deeply wrong with you… Joffrey" He had said it as if it were a basic fact, something obvious and immutable. He didn't know why the statement had caused such a reaction, but he had rabidly stabbed Lord Stark… must have been a dozen times. He had died then… it had probably been the purpose behind that statement, to make him loose control and finally kill him.
Yes, that must have been it…
-.PD.-
Joffrey shot another bolt at Pycell.
He was already on his knees but he took on the chest all the same, knocking him on his back and landing on the Throne room's floor. Why… why must everything go wrong!!!
He shouted in rage as he sat back on the Iron Throne, tossing the crossbow at the floor. I shouldn't have done that, he was just the messenger. He shook his head as the belated thought reached him. The assembled courtiers were silent as he shouted at them. "OUT! EVERYBODY OUT!" He screamed.
They filled out as mother gave him a guarded look and told the redcloaks to take Pycell's body out. Not so invincible now are you Tywin! The thought should had pleased him, but in the present circumstances…
The Crownland -reinforced Westerlands army had fallen like a pride of Lions amongst Renly's summer knights. Tywin had bloodied and fought them back all the way to Storm's End… and total victory had been at hand.
Things had apparently turned 5 days ago. Stannis had arrived on his fleet and disembarked behind the Lannister army, but that hadn't been what broke them. No. His Grandfathers assassination had done that.
They said Stannis had turned into a smoke demon and had stabbed Tywin right through the heart… Witless idiots! How could they believe such things!!! Joffrey thought despairingly as he hit the iron throne, nicking him and spilling blood. He was about to call the Maester when he remembered what he had done to him.
There's something deeply wrong with you, Joffrey.
He shook the errant thought out of his head.
No matter. Stannis had attacked from the rear as the Lannister army had fallen to chaos, and then Renly had hit from the front…
They had been decimated. That night, after the celebration someone had apparently done Stannis a favor and assassinated Renly. Dawn found him in his bed, stabbed. And so Stannis was leading his now combined army directly towards King's Landing, not stopping for anything.
Joffrey got out of his Throne and wrapped a Lannister cloak around his wound. He didn't even care. What