"Joffrey?!" Asked his mother, concerned. Joffrey realized he had been hyperventilating again, this time in his Mothers freaking Wheelhouse. "Ah… Ah… Ah its nothing.. ah… mother" he said as he struggled to get his breathing back under control and crushed his mother's hand with his own. Tommen and Myrcella stared at him both wary and scared as Joffrey put his hands under his armpits in a desperate attempt to avoid the shakes.
Gods… not here, not in front of them.
The shakes arrived slowly, building up from the inside. "Joffrey, what's wrong!? Stop the carriage!" shouted his mother. "Mother… I-I-m o-o-ok-a-ay, j- j-j-j- j-juu-u-u--" I'm dying! Im dying again! Why?! Not the purple again!!! The shakes started rattling him inside the carriage. "G-g-get ooooutt!" he screamed as he opened the door and jumped down. The carriage had been passing a part of the Kingsroad which was raised above the rest of the land, so Joffrey rolled and tumbled down the slope.
Thoughts of being stuck in a void of purple forever, made for him to never escape… suddenly found themselves interrupted by the abrupt pain that was coming from all of Joffrey's body.
As the guards raced down, they found a strange sight… Joffrey hitting himself with all his strength in his thigh, again and again… As they restrained him, Joffrey's quick, hard breathing had passed, and there were tears of joy in his eyes. "It stopped… thank you… thank you…" he babbled incoherently.
-.PD.-
"J-Joffrey… please… could.. you give me back my cat?!" Tommen suddenly blurted. He said the last part all on a blur, and flinched as he waited for Joffrey's response.
Joffrey had been eying him all afternoon as the wheelhouse bumped along the carnnogmen's marshes in the way to the Neck. Tommen had been psyching himself up the whole day, and when mother had fallen asleep he had made his move. His stupid brother didn't understand that if he-- Gods-- Lion was helping him hold off the..-pit-- oh gods.
He shivered lightly as he petted the small cat again and again, clutching his fur close to his belly. The shakes soon passed, and Joffrey breathed lightly again. That's right, only me and you little Lion, you are a brave Lion aren't you? Yes you are, also lazy!" He thought as he petted him again and Lion shifted in his lap, mewling softly in contentment.
A tentative smile graced Joffrey's features. Think of the cat, a beautiful cat. The thoughts of eternity soon passed Joffrey's mind.
"J-Joffrey…?" murmured Tommen.
"No" Said Joffrey, clutching Lion protectively.
"B-but--"
Joffrey shifted a bit, his pulse quickening as his hand slipped to his dagger. Just let it be Tommen, you're not having him. I'll stab you right in the eye! You'll not take him!!! But it will have to be quiet, not to wake mother. Bury him outside.
His grip tightened as he breathing run faster yet again. "Leave it be, Tommen" He whispered, his voice strangled. He must have sensed the danger because Tommen seemed to deflate as he shifted backwards with a terrified "I'm sorry"
Joffrey kept petting Lion.
The cat and, for when he failed, sudden applications of pain towards his person had prevented any more bouts… But it was a close run thing. Joffrey didn't need to be a maester to know his sanity was hanging by a thread now, but, who wouldn't be?! He -was - trapped here to --
He clutched Lion even tighter as he petted him monomaniacaly. Good cat good cat good cat. Lion gave a mild yawn of discomfort, eying him lazily before rolling in his hands and snoozing again.
What a lazy cat. Indeed.
He didn't notice Tommen gradually hiding under his cloak.
-.PD.-
The Wheelhouse plodded away, and before long they arrived at Winterfell again. He rarely talked to anyone there, preferring to walk through the keeps walls, enjoying the fresh air, it seemed to sooth him… slightly. Little Lion never left his side, and seemed comfortable enough with Joffrey's constant attentions. His bizarre conduct had raised more than a few eyebrows, and rumor had it that the arch traitor had
tactfully proposed a betrothal between Bran and Myrcella.
Joffrey snorted, not that he cared. Just as well, anything to keep stupid Sansa away from him. Maybe he could arrange a betrothal with Maergery right away? It would certainly speed things up… But that would change things, that was bad - Crack- it could have -The flames consumed his facial air in a second, reducing them to ash as they burned his skin- But to not change anything meant-- Purple started to occlude his sight, and he knew the end was near, the purple would have a little fun with him, then it would spit him out, only to lie in wait again, laying in anticipation, it wouldn't have to wait for long, it had foreverandeverandeverandever
Oh no, thought Joffrey as the shakes took him.He stopped walking and crouched, petting little Lion again and again and taking deep breaths. Lion's fur is awfully light, but he does have some black spots, huh, I wonder about that… He crouched there for a few minutes.
Taking ahold of himself, he stood up, relieved. He noticed Lord Stark the arch traitor staring at him from a distance, but as soon as Joffrey met his eyes the Lord seemed to hesitate, thinking about something only to finally lower his head and walk on.
He's probably going to the damned Godswood again, I don't understand what the savages find so mesmerizing out of a fucking tree.
-.PD.-
Joffrey would wonder what he'd do this life, but every time he tried… well he knew better than to keep at it. So he spent his days at Winterfell in a somewhat simplified existence, though he made sure to touch his mother's hand a couple of times a day and to hug her every night, the close human contact helped him fight away his bouts of madness.
He was walking through Winterfells courtyard again and petting Lion as usual, thinking about getting some wine-- his heart hammered away, his pulse quickened to unnatural speeds-Gods damnit, some ale. Only some ale. He thought as he petted Lion yet again. Joffrey didn't know how much he could hold on, each time more and more random thoughts seemed to trigger his… condition… and the despair about his madness itself seemed to feed into it, creating some kind of loop. Joffrey quickly moved his attention elsewhere, knowing the madness would come if he continued along that line of thought. … He couldn't even think about what was happening to him without….gods..--
Look somewhere, anywhere. He spotted a somewhat familiar figure, scaling the broken tower. That stupid kid, Bran. Let's check out why he slips on the same godsdamned rock every single time, why not, he thought with monomaniacal intensity, doing everything not to think about …
As the stupid boy kept scaling, Joffrey used the stairs as any sane person would. He scratched Lion's head as he walked up the stairs. Poor idiot's been falling from this tower since my first life… That slippery rock must be cursed by the gods themselves.
He finally arrived to the decrepit oak door that lay half burned. Opening it up, he saw his mother and uncle fucking each other.
Bran seemed to arrive a few moments later, they spoke a bit between themselves but Joffrey couldn't hear the words. There was a dull roar inside his head.
His uncle got up and pushed Bran off the ledge. Hmm, so that's why he keeps falling, he thought.
Hmmm
Even in his state, Joffrey could connect the dots easily enough.
It seems I was doing Stannis an injustice. It was I who was the real traitor! That thought manifested itself with unusual clarity in Joffrey's mind, which had lately been a bit sluggish.
I'm not Fath-Roberts true born son. Black of hair… indeed… black of hair… black of hair… black of hair…
The rumors where true… A bastard born out of incest… even the smallfolk's can sometimes get it right.
He hadn't moved at all since opening the door. He saw his mother's pristine nude body robing herself again, and uncl--…. Father… putting on… his armor.
The dull roar inside Joffrey's head grew very quiet, almost imperceptible to his hearing. He snorted a quick laugh, finally getting the whole thing.
His Father and Mother snapped back to him, faces suddenly filled with sheer horror. "J -Joffrey?" asked his Father, dumbly. "How long have you been standing there, sweetie?" asked his Mother, her eyes looking franticly between her son and her lover. She had always been the more quick witted of the two, now that
Joffrey thought about it.
Joffrey laughed out loud. "Oh Mother… Father! Thank you! This! This was the purpose! I understand now!" He said. He was suddenly filled with relief.
They stared, shocked into stillness by it all.
"This is why they kept bringing me back! I'm free now!" Joffrey struggled to say as he grabbed his belly, laughing like he'd just heard the best joke to have ever been told… though, thinking about it, he kind of had. He laughed so hard tears fell down his cheeks, and his belly hurt a bit because of the constant giggle that had overtaken him.
"S-sweetie--" Said his mother, taking a step forward only for Joffrey's laughter to abruptly and instantly stop, as if cut with a knife. "Stay away from me" he said almost conversationally as he took several steps back, lightning quick, bumping against the broken tower's wall.
His mother hesitated, putting her hand on his Father's shoulder as he tried to stand up. "Let me" she whispered quietly but urgently into Jaime's ear. It had been kind of obvious in hindsight, thought Joffrey. Didn't horses that bred with their families produce offspring that was… wrong somehow?
There's something deeply wrong with you Joffrey, whispered Lord Starks deformed head in his ear.
Oh Stark, if only you kne…
…
He… had known, hadn't he?
He laughed out loud at that, startling his mother, who had been taking slow steps towards him. The arch traitor was actually not a traitor! Who would have thought about that! I should certainly apologies to Lord Stark the next time I see him! He thought ruefully-
"My son, I can explain--" started the sweet voice of his mother as she took another step, starting to stretch her hand out.
"DON'T TOUCH ME !" Screeched Joffrey with all his strength as he scrambled sideways. Wow, where did that came from? He thought as his heart seemed to beat a thousand times faster than it normally had, Yikes… I really should calm down a bit!
Well, it was over at least, he had that going on for him. "I think I've never wanted to lay down more than now!" he said with a snort as he popped his head out from a nearby window. "This whole multiple lives thing was even fun for a while, I have to admit, but still, I'm glad its over now. And to think!" he said as he stared back at them with a look of surprised bewilderment "It had been so simple!"
He left brave little Lion in the floor. "Take care of that cat, even if he's a bit lazy!" he said good naturedly. "Joffrey, Wha--" he Father started, but her mother as usual had figured it out first. She leapt into a sprint, barely meters away from Joffrey as she screamed "JOFFREY! DON'T!!!".
Pff, what a spectacle. He didn't understand why she was so distraught, he was ending the cycle!
With that thought in mind, he leapt off the window, only a handspan away from his mother's reaching form. He sailed through the air head first towards the ground.
Don't want to end up like poor Bran now, would we?
He could see a large crowd had already converged surrounding Bran's crumbled form. Those lucky bastards, now they get to see a live reenactment!
He shattered against the ground head first. He died instantly, and was greeted instantly.
The purple consumed him, twisting his neck and spine, crushing his internal organs and blocking his airways.
So.. its not over then, strange. Thought Joffrey in midst of the pain.
The purple swirled around him as his face crunched in on itself, shattering his eyes and grinding his teeth to nothing.
I can't believe I was so stressed out because of this! He thought, utterly bewildered. The pain wasn't that bad! It hurt a little, sure, but it was, in a way, even cleansing…
Yes… now that he thought about it, he was being purged… cleansed.
The shocking realization was so strong it was like a sledgehammer to the face for Joffrey.
The purple was helping me! All this time! He thought as his throat collapsed into itself, and his hands twisted towards his body, way past the limits of his ligaments
It was so obvious! You'd need to be blind not to see it!
Joffrey laughed. In the midst of the purple agony, Joffrey laughed.
-.PD.-
Joffrey woke up with a quiet sight, and got off his bed calmly enough. Huh, I didn't even vomit this time, he thought.
It's really strange, I was sure it should have ended… maybe a fall isn't enough to end the whole process.
"Now where did I leave that damned dagger…" He muttered as he searched his wardrobe, and then his bedchest.
"Aha! Found it!" he proclaimed loudly. "Now, lets see…" he muttered as he took it out of its sheath and stabbed himself in the heart. He collapsed on his knees, blood pooling all around him. It didn't even hurt that much.
He crumbled on top of the floor as the Purple greeted him again, almost like an old friend. I can't believe I feared you! Thought Joffrey as he greeted the enveloping agony again. -.PD.-
The Hound was laying his back on the wall, taking in a bit of the morning sunlight filtering through the window. He could hear the servants below rushing about their duties for the day, and the king bellowing and laughing, making ready for his next hunt, he guessed.
He had heard a bit of noise from the little shit's room for a while now, so he guessed he was already awake. Though why he hadn't called his servants to dress him was a mystery. Perhaps he forgot… I better remind him, I won't have the Queen haggling me because the little shit didn't arrive to his bloody meal in time…
He shifted his weight off the wall and knocked on Joffrey's door.
He could hear a faint squishing sound from the other side of the door, but it stopped as soon as he knocked. "Yes? Who is it?" asked the prince, amiably enough. Glad he's having a good day, thought the Hound.
"It's Clegane, my prince." He said, shifting his weight. Why can't he do this things by himself… sighted the Hound uselessly.
"Oh, come in Hound!" Said the little shit.
My my he's chipper this morning.
The hound opened the door, and had to get a hold of the doors frame as what he saw stole his breath away.
Prince Joffrey was covered in blood… Both his eyes had been pierced by the bloodied dagger in his hand… and his scalp was over the bed, the blood mingling with the blonde hair.
"It still won't end Hound! Very annoying! I figured out maybe I can break the cycle by getting rid of the Lannister parts, make myself a bit more Baratheon so to speak!" He chuckled. "So we'll… well, I'll see how that works out" he seemed to think for a second, tilting his sightless, blood bathed head upwards a bit. "Eyes and hair, that's what Stannis always talked about. Can you think of any other Lannister traits?" he asked him.
Clegane took a deep breath as he felt his breakfast bubbling upwards through his throat. "N… No, my Prince" he said, walking slowly towards Joffrey.
Joffrey seemed to pout for a bit. "Oh, well it was a long shot anyway. I'll see how it goes as it is then" He said as he raised the dagger to his throat.
Clegane burst into a sprint, but Joffrey was already cutting. "See you on the other side Hound! Well, hopefully not, but you get the poinkkkkggggggggghhhh" he gurgled as he collapsed to the floor.
"GRAND MAESTER!" Roared Clegane with all his might as he got a hold of the bloody wreck that was Joffrey.
He shouldn't have bothered.
Joffrey seemed to smile as the blood seeped out of his cut throat.
-.PD.-
The chickens have come back to roost on Joffrey's head. He was already on the edge after all he's been through…
All he needed was a little push.
CHAPTER 7: WHISPERS OF PEACE.
Yep sorry about the reversed order, should be okay now.
Speaking of which…
Chapter 7: Whispers of Peace.
Hm. That didn't work either. Still, its just a matter of trying. Thought Joffrey as he got up from his bed and walked up to the window. This didn't work last time, but maybe it's the Red Keep, he mused as he jumped through the window.
He landed in the courtyard, a twisted and bloody wreck. People all over shouted in alarm, and Robert himself went pale as a sheet as he got off his horse and run towards Joffrey. "Gods! Joffrey! My son!" Shouted Robert as he flailed around in a panic for two seconds before grabbing a nearby goldcloak and shoving him towards the main keep "You! Get the Grandmaester now!"
Robert, calm down, I'm not your son. Joffrey tried to say, but it only came out as a wet gurgle. "Oh, Joffrey, please." Robert struggled to say as he grabbed Joffrey and held him in his arms. Didn't knew he cared that much about me. More's the pity. Thought Joffrey as his sight faded away and the purple came back. As utter agony flooded him, Joffrey chuckled. This is the best you can do?
Try harder. He thought as he stretched his arms in the void and flew.
-.PD.-
Joffrey walked through the Red Keeps hallway. He turned a right and came up to the Queen's bedchambers, guarded by the Kingslayer. "Prince Joffrey" He said as he nodded.
"Father" nodded Joffrey. Jaime was so petrified he didn't even flinch when Joffrey slashed his neck with his dagger. He brought both gauntleted hands to his neck in surprise, trying to stem the flow with his hands as he fell on the floor. "Sorry Father, I'm trying to figure out what the bloody purple wants, this is just getting tiring, you know?" he said as he stopped in front of the door. "Though, maybe now…" he mused as he put the dagger in front of his chest. "Nah, better to make sure" he said as he lowered the dagger and opened the door.
"Hello Mother!" he said as Cercei stood up from her chair in surprise. "Joffrey! What--" her voice choked out as she witnessed the body behind Joffrey as he strolled into the room.
"Sorry about Father, but you really should have thought about things before fucking your own brother! Their offspring can fail pretty hard, just look at the Targeryens" he said as he approached her.
His Mother seemed to crumble, semi-crouching in the floor and holding a gut wrenching sob of incomprehension, both her hands covering her mouth. "Hey! Don't be like that! At least I'm not jumping into wildfire trying to turn into a dragon!" He said as he snorted, then seemed to pause for a bit. "Wildfire… hmmm" he pondered.
He nodded and then grabbed his Mothers hair. He could already hear screams from the hallway, better make it quick! "I'm just so tired by all this, there's got to be away" he muttered as he slit her throat. She didn't even resist, lax in his hands.
Ser Boros Blunt crashed into the room, sword drawn and seeking enemies. "Okay, here goes nothing" He said as he plunged the dagger in his heart. The last thing he saw before greeting the purple was Ser Boros slack face, it was really kind of amusing.
-.PD.-
Grand Maester Pycell leaned back on his seat, analyzing the Crown Prince, hiding behind the doddering fool façade that had served him so well for all this years. "A poison that seemed to strangle a person?" he muttered haltingly. The Strangler of course. But the question was, why?
Well, there was no harm in letting him hold it for a bit, its not like he could run away with the vial, he'd alert the King in that case and nothing ill would come of it, though the story of "having read it on a book and got curious" was laughable at best.
Still, he haltingly, almost shuddering, turned back, unlocked the cupboard and passed him the dangerous poison.
Joffrey took it, looked at it for a couple of seconds and promptly drank it.
The Grand Maester stumbled as he stood up, his chair flying back as he grabbed the prince with strong hands that belied their old age. THE GODSDAMNED FOOL! I'VE GOT TO MAKE HIM VOMIT BEFORE--
He stared dumbly at the dagger sticking out of his chest. "Oh get off old man" Joffrey said as he brushed him off. Pycell stumbled backwards and fell on his desk as he watched Joffrey stretch his limbs for a bit, and cracked a couple knuckles. "Bit too sweet I think. Some Maester's apprentice is slacking off… though it should still work… I hope." Muttered Joffrey as he walked around the room, flexing his arms again. Pycelle just tried to staunch the bleeding, and he was failing miserably in that front.
"Damn it Pycell, this thing should already be working, Fathe-Ah! Damnit! Robert should fire you and get an Alchemist instead. Said Joffrey impatiently.
Pycell said nothing as he struggled to reach the nearby cupboard that held his medicinal supplies. Need… to staunch… the bleeding… He thought as he fumbled for his keys. Joffrey didn't seem to mind.
Joffrey coughed, then smiled. The sight of that shook Pycell so much he dropped his keys. "Oh Gods" he mumbled as he crouched to pick them up again.
"Well that took its sweet time… Sweet… ha!" Joffrey's chuckle petered off as he fell on the floor, writhing and holding his throat.
Pycell finally got the right keys, but found out he couldn't get back up again.
Oh dear…
His vision blurred and the last thing he saw was Joffrey's face contorted in… annoyance?
What-- the--….
-.PD.-
Gods… so tired. I think I should rest for a while… but there's still a couple ways I should try first… I wonder if…
…
"I'll repeat myself again, okay? You need to torture me" He said to the gaol jailor and unofficial torturer of the Red Keep. The man stuttered dumbly as he looked around him, trying to find someone to help him in this outright bizzare, no, otherworldly situation. "Ah… I can't do that your grace…" he mumbled as he took a tiny step back.
The Crown Prince seemed to sight as he stepped forward and handed him his dagger. "Its really not that hard" he said, exasperated as he gripped the man's hand (now with the dagger) and stabbed himself all the way through the cheek. "See?" he said as he spat a mouthful of blood on the floor.
The man stumbled back, letting out a scream before running as fast as he feet could take him up the stairs.
Figures… Guess I'll have to do it myself. Didn't seem too hard when I did it to Stark… the angles may be tough though…
-.PD.-
"Right over here my prince" said Wisdom Hallyne as he guided Joffrey over the storage area. Tis been decades since we have been graced with a royal presence! For the good of the guild I must impress the prince.
He watched the prince carefully as they walked to the underground vaults were the substance was stored. People often looked down on the Alchemist's Guild, seeing them as nothing more than cheap tricksters. Fools, thought Hayllyne. The Targeryeans knew the true worth of our work, and the importance of it. Still, for want of a dragon, I'll take a stag.
"Here is one of the storage areas, as you see we have taken ample precautions" he said, gesturing at the rows of wildfire suspended above sandbags from below and above, ready in case of an unexpected detonation. Hayllene got one of them from the racks, twirling it carefully in his old, expert hands. The Prince eyed the substance with a strange mix of curiosity and apathy. "May I see it, Wisdom?" he asked.
The vacant look of the Prince sent a shiver of foreboding, but Hallyne quickly overrode it. We must get back our royal patronage! KingRobert had been less than amused when his predecessor had walked to court asking for more funding…
Wisdom Gobbard was lucky Robert didn't rent his head asunder with his hammer…
Carefully, he passed it on to the prince. He seemed to examine the green jar a bit as he carefully took the lid out. "Careful my prince…" said Hayllene, eying the Prince anxiously. The prince looked at him and snorted.
"It would be very ironic if I turned into a dragon… ha!" he said as he drank the jar's contents in one fell swoop.
Joffrey seemed to grunt as he bent a bit, semi crouched. This lasted 1 seconds as he then exploded in a green blast that devoured his body. A shocked Wisdom Hayllene shrieked as he turned his back to run at the door, but there was never time. The explosion seared his back and flung him to the side, crashing against more jars of wildfire. As more explosions rocked the building, the support struts of the room burnt as they were supposed to, and Wisdom, fire and Prince were buried under an avalanche of sand that descended from the ceiling.
-.PD.-
Joffrey felt each death a little faster, the memories of it a little more blurred, the pain diluted. In each life he talked a bit less, his deaths were a bit less creative or different. His emotions were being purged, and the crushing guilt and despair got a bit less overwhelming. He was also a lot more tired, and the last few lives he barely had the strength to get out of bed and jump out the window.
Its… working… he thought in a tired haze as he stumbled out of his bed and struggled to open the window. He barely felt his hands as they fumbled the lock. Exhausted… its… working…
He finally managed to open it, but he didn't feel the wind coming through it.
He fell more than jumped out the window, and he barely felt any pain as he crashed against the hard ground, even the purple barely even registered anymore. His thoughts were even slower now, and everything seemed to blur.
He lost himself in the blur.
-.PD.-
Joffrey floated in the blur.
He had lost all perception of time, all perception of everything really.
I am no more, he thought with detached disinterest. Even as he thought of that, the term "I" lost meaning, there was no more "Joffrey", just… a blur.
There was only the blur, sometimes interrupted by clouds of purple, like weather, that would come and go as the wind.
…
…
…
-.PD.-
…
…
…
And then, with a trickle, with infinite time, just like a pendulum reaching the zenith of its momentum… it started to come back. Joffrey felt himself slowly being built again, at a crawl. The Purple winds drifted now and then, swirling by as Joffrey… remembered.
I am…
I… am…. Joffrey.
Slowly at first, the memories came back. Crown prince…. No…
… traitor and bastard…
The haze lifted for a bit and he could see a blond haired woman, tenderly feeding him with some soup from a nearby bowl. Although Joffrey couldn't feel the flavor, or even his body, he could hear her soothing tune.
Mother…
The blur came back again, and Joffrey drifted in nothingness, uncaring, completely neutral. When it came back, he could see a tall, balding man with a gaze of iron. He was arguing with a beautiful red head which despite her appearance seemed to radiate an aura of danger.
Uncl--… Lord Stannis… King Stannis…
They intend to burn me again, thought Joffrey, though the thought of it didn't seem to faze him. The discussion got heated as the red woman extended a greedy hand towards Joffrey's face, only to be batted away angrily by Stannis, as he ordered some men to take her away from the room.
They wouldn't burn him, then. He didn't feel either relief or disappointment as the blur came back again. The blur would continue on, Joffrey didn't know for how long, intersped by bouts of purple. The moments when he could see again would be fleeting and rare, but mostly he saw servants, and his mother.
Is it sad to be so little thought of in your hour of greatest darkness? He honestly couldn't answer that question. -.PD.-
After a millennia of time, or a day, Joffrey seemed to land on his bed, the puffy feeling of floating in nothingness receding away like the morning tide… and staying in his edges. He rested there for a while, gazing at the dark ceiling.
With a monumental effort, Joffrey got up. He could barely feel his feet as he slowly limped towards the door. The Red Keep was dark, and the heavy sound of rain seemed omnipresent. Joffrey walked towards the main gate, using the occasional torch and the frequent lightning bolts to see his way.
The rain was so heavy that the guards didn't even notice him as he limped by at the same time a cart entered the main gate. Completely drenched, he made his way through King's Landing. The few smallfolks that noticed him in the dark, torrential night steered clear of his way, probably taking him for a beggar.
With single minded determination, a deep exhaustion heavy on both his body and mind, Joffrey walked into Baelor's Sept.
As always, the secondary doors were open, but the Sept itself seemed devoid of life. As Joffrey limped towards the Altar of the Father, breathing heavily from the exertion, his eyes began to water. Finally, with an effort of will, Joffrey lurched and landed at the feet of the Father.
Seven… please help me… Why… Why are you doing this to me?
The pounding rain kept on, interrupted by distant thunders. The heavy chandeliers barely keept out an oppressive, strangling darkness.
Please… no more… there is no… reason for me to live on… Please…
Desperately, Joffrey lunged and grabbed the enormous feet of the Father's Statue, holding on to them franticly.
Father, I know my justice was an abomination, my scales where a mockery. But I only tried… Joffrey struggled to carry it through. Only tried to keep the peace…
But the excuse sounded hollow in Joffrey's mind, and an ominous thunder illuminated the silhouette of the Father, encasing Joffrey in his shadow for a brief moment.
The ideals of the Father, Justice and leadership… I had failed at them. I was no leader, only a tyrant, my justice a flimsy excuse. I only wanted power, power to rule, power to command… power to be cared by the father that never was.
In the end, he was an abomination in the Father's sight. The son of his uncle, how could he expect the Father to listen to him, if by rights he should have never been born. He had no true father, thus the Father Above would always be denied to him.
With that sickening realization crystalizing in his mind, he lurched to the next statue. The benevolent Mother gazed from above, caring and forgiving.
Mother please listen to me… have compassion… please Mother… PLEASE…
The gaze of the Mother Above seemed to turn cruel and unforgiving. He had reveled in his cruelty and hurt with wanton abandon. He would find no mercy here.
Silent tears streaming down, Joffrey limped to the next altar, where the stern Warrior stood vigilant. Through Joffrey's blurring vision, the menacing statue seemed poised to strike him down. When had he demonstrated strength? When had he shown true courage other than to save his life? When had he been brave?
He limped on, not willing to stand any longer below such a force. The Maiden seemed to sneer at him, her expression one of hatred.
Appropriate, Joffrey thought. I have flaunted her protection, I have killed girls and woman. His fevered mind leapt to a scene instantly, Joffrey holding Sansa's head steady, forcing her to look at the face of her dead father.
I have broken the innocence you strive to protect.
With a sudden shock of self-loathing, Joffrey dry heaved, but only saliva came out. Nauseous and shameful, he barely kept going.
Circling around the Great Sept, he stood before the Smith, but he couldn't even beg as his own head pummeled him, showing him images of the torture he had passed his servants through, of how he had never worked for a thing in all his lives.
Stumbling, he crashed to the floor, and crept towards the Crone. Her mysterious smile appeared to turn slightly down as he looked up, illuminated by thunderbolts. Wisdom, her ideal, had been perhaps the thing Joffrey most lacked. I killed those who tried to advise me, keep me on the right path. I rejected her light at every opportunity. Joffrey would find no wisdom from her today.
Slowly crawling to the last statue, Joffrey grasped the dais were the Stranger stood. Dying again and again, Joffrey had thought he must have been under the Stranger's domain, but he now understood it was the exact opposite. Many people feared the Stranger, but his gift of death was exactly that. A gift. The end of suffering. Joffrey was anathema to everything the Stranger symbolized, he would never know the sweet embrace of death.
I am forsaken. Joffrey thought, curling up and leaning his back on the dais of the Stranger.
It was then a flash of insight, like the lightning that accompanied it rushed through his mind, a single, slowly crystalizing thought.
For the first time since he entered this place, Joffrey really saw the reality of the Sept. He filtered away the ominous darkness, the pounding rain, the enclosed yet open space.
He saw the towering, intimidating statues of the seven as they really were… … They were statues.
The ominous feeling that had inundated Joffrey from the moment he entered through the door vanished, and he understood he was alone.
There's no one here.
This place was cold, lifeless. And the Seven would not help him… he was indeed forsaken, because the Seven did not actually exist. They. Where. Statues.
No one could help him.
The will that had kept his body moving disappeared, and Joffrey let himself go. He relaxed his muscles… his mind… and the purple swiftly moved over him.
He choked to death below the statue of the Stranger, but there was no one around to appreciate the irony. -.PD.-
He awoke with a sight, and not a trace of the usual vomit. Joffrey would have stayed in that bed till the end of time, but something inside of him pushed him out, and he slowly put on his clothes.
Joffrey had come back… changed from the land of madness and purple. He felt he had only a small allotment of emotion to parcel around, and when that gave out an immense exhaustion took him over and he found it impossible not to lay down or sleep for the rest of the day.
The caravan moved North, following the inexorable paths of fate, and Joffrey accompanied them, only
speaking when spoken to.
Again, his families reaction told him of his true nature. His mother, for all of her love for him, wouldn't help him. His fa… Robert would look confused from time to time, but he would soon find an ale to sooth it. His… father would look on as always, from a distance. His brother and sister would play joyfully and without worry when the caravan stopped.
Oddly enough, it was Tyrion who had approached him.
"Nephew" nodded the imp as he carefully walked into Joffrey's tent. Joffrey had been staring at the floor with a mug of ale, but strangely, he didn't seem startled by the sudden intrusion.
He looked at Tyrion. "Uncle" he said quietly as he took another sip from his cold ale. Tyrion took a chair and placed him in front of Joffrey's small table. He didn't stop him as the imp poured himself some ale. Tyrion waited patiently for Joffrey to break the awkward silence, but the moments stretched to minutes as he kept on sipping minute amounts of ale and staring now at the tent door.
"Nephew?" asked Tyrion. "Uncle?" responded Joffrey. Silence stretched for a while then.
The imp shook his head, and finally asked his question. "It's clear you are not enjoying this little trip. And there are days you can barely keep standing on your own feet…" said the imp, collecting his thoughts. "… Why?… Why are you barely respondent to the outside? Why do you keep yourself sequestered in this tent?" he asked with the exasperated tone of a Maester who couldn't find the answer to an obvious mathematical problem.
Joffrey seemed to genuinely ponder the question as he lazily rolled the mug in his hand. After a few minutes of silence, he shrugged.
"Why not?" he said, genuinely curious.
That answer shook Tyrion. After a few more minutes of silence, he downed his cup and exited the tent.
-.PD.-
"And this is my first borne, Ned" Said Robert as he gestured at Joffrey from the high table. The King hadn't found his increasingly elusive son when they arrived at Winterfell, so he introduced him at the feast.
Joffrey was silently picking at his food, immune to the puppy eyes Sansa kept sending his way, and any sort of distraction, really. He was just forking pieces of chicken, looking a thousand miles beyond the plate.
"He's so sad" wooed Sansa to Jeyne Poole, red flushing her face.
More than sad. That's the look of a man with nothing left to live for, thought Ned with increasing amounts of curiosity and mild alarm. "Are you sure he's… alright Robert?" he asked his old friend. Robert frowned for a second before taking another huge bite of the chicken leg he held in his hand. "Been like that for a few days, I think. He'll be fine." He chuckled as he made a move on a passing serving girl.
Ned was struck by a sudden memory, of him staring away at nothingness in the Eyrie, after receiving the news of his brother and father's death at King's Landing. He shook his head as he took a bit of chicken with his fork, trying to sooth the sudden pain that had assaulted him. Those were old wounds.
He found that he had lost his appetite, and he sighted quietly as he gazed at Joffrey.
-.PD.-
The next morning, Joffrey aimlessly wandered the outside of the main keep with a faint sense of déjà vu.
His mind was almost blank when he saw Eddard Stark strolling through nearby, towards the Godswood.
A sudden, incomprehensible rage overtook him. He furiously stomped after him, entering deep into the Godswood. Joffrey quickly lost him in the tangle of trees, and had to retrace his steps to get back on the trail. Finally, he found Lord Stark kneeling in front of the heart tree, silent.
Joffrey stood there, huffing. He walked to one side of the clearing and to the next, shaking his fists.
Finally, he lost it.
He screamed with all his strength at Eddard Stark, who leapt up from his knees, startled. He was at a loss for words as he eyed the Crown Prince, who was breathing heavily.
"You think they can hear you?! You think you can change the course?! There's no purpose Stark!!!" He screamed as he advanced on him, his eyes wild. Eddard seemed paralyzed by the sheer outpouring of emotion emanating from Joffrey, a gut wrenching stream of invective that seemed to feed itself on his very life and breath.