Chapter 5: 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 had he done wrong this time?!
He stood out into the courtyard and saw his uncle Jaime departing with a handful of Redcloaks, speeding towards the rest of the Crownlands to gather what reinforcements he could. It was all he was going to get. The damned imp had said that if Stannis decided to storm the city, Kevan's reinforcing army would not make it in time.
Just his luck.
-.PD.-
Stannis apparently knew what he was doing. That much, Joffrey knew. The imp had talked him through as Stannis gradually took control of the city, first taking the gates, then shoving his cavalry through it (the Tyrells, ironically) and encircling pockets of defenders. Joffrey had to admit, the imp had excellent commentary, if only to take his mind off the whole thing and not shit his pants. Joffrey suspected the imp himself did it out of the same reason. His head would end up on a pike, same as his if Stannis won. And he was winning. The imp had taken Joffrey back to the Red Keep once two of the gates had fallen… or well, he had tried. They were in one of those pockets that had been surrounded by the Tyrell cavalry.
As Joffrey took his arming sword in a death grip, the imp gave him a jaunty salute. "Stannis seems ready to fuck us hard, friends!" He shouted, looking back at the assorted, terrified mix of Goldcloaks, Redcloaks and Crownlanders that were in the pocket with them. "Still, to my shame I've never seen a whorehouse giving out free fucks!" He said as he put on his helmet and got a strangled laugh out of the soldiers.
"Let's make em work for it!" He shouted as he charged… the imp charged the cavalry with his battleaxe. The men let out a wary but defiant roar as they charged along with him, dragging Joffrey with them. At that moment he felt a bit of grudging respect for the imp… and a bit of envy at his sheer bravery.
"They say I'm half a man, then what does that make you?!" They said he had shouted in his first life when he rallied the fleeing Goldcloaks.
Fuck him, the traitorous imp wasn't going to be braver than him. Not in this life. Fuck.That.
He shouted as he charged, now under his own power, trying to catch up to Tyrion. They crashed against the Tyrell blocking force with a vengeance, unseating them from their horses as both formations merged.
His mind, well, the small part of his mind that wasn't mad with fear, briefly imagined himself battling through his foes, killing droves before finding the commander of the unit and killing him in single combat…
Not that he really thought that would happen. His previous lives had taught him a tiny bit of realism. Even with all the progress he had made under the Hound, Joffrey and his trusty arming sword found themselves throughout most of the skirmish fighting against a single dismounted Tyrell soldier. He looks young, thought a distant part of his mind as he parried, attacked and made sweeping ripostes. Joffrey didn't know how much time he battled with the bastard, but after what must have been ages, he managed to sink in his sword through his belly, and take it out. The Tyrell soldier seemed to look at Joffrey's bloodied sword in confusion before collapsing into the floor. Joffrey would have followed him down if he hadn't been filled with bitter achievement.
He was panting, dead tired, had numerous cuts and a huge slash on his thigh that just kept bleeding. All around him his men were dying, but they were taking some of the Tyrell's down with them.
He limped aimlessly for a few seconds before stumbling over something. To his surprise, it was the imp. He had a spear protruding from his chest, and seemed to be breathing haltingly. "Uncle" Said Joffrey as he sat beside him, the sound of men dying all around them. "Nephew… do my eyes… deceive me… or did you… just kill… a man… actually in defense… of the realm" the imp asked him, haltingly, in between rasping breaths. "I think I did uncle…" Said Joffrey distracted, the bleeding on his leg was slowing down. The Imp gave a rasping chuckle, "Mayhaps… after all… we can… make… a full Lannister… between ourselves." he said. The imp managed to get out a snorting laugh from Joffrey. He was going to berate the imp, but when he turned to face him again his eyes layed fixed, unmoving.
Japing to his death. A fitting death for the imp… not a bad one too. He tried to make a jape too, but he lost consciousness before he could think of one. He didn't think it would have amused the purple anyway.
-.PD.-
Oddly enough, he didn't feel the shattering agony that was the Metaphysical Strangler, instead, it was just a dull ache all throughout his body. I'm going to rest for a fucking week. Promised Joffrey as he opened his eyes.
This was not his room.
This was Baelor's plaza.
It had to be a nightmare… It had to be.
He tried to move, he couldn't. He was tied to a… pole? He struggled to get out of his bindings as men left stacks of hay and wood all around him. What the fucks going on?!
A beautiful woman in a red dress seemed to lightly sway as she made her way through the wood. She carefully touched Joffrey's cheek as she turned around to face someone behind her… Stannis.
"Stannis!! You fucking traitor!" Joffrey growled as he tried to get out of his binds. They didn't seem to be listening to him. Stannis was grinding his teeth, mulling about something the red woman had just said.
"Didn't the Red God give you Renly, Stannis? Didn't he give you Tywin? Didn't he give you this city for you to take with your armies?" she said seductively as she slowly let her hands travel down his chest, touching only armor… for the moment. "A bastard he may be, but he still holds the blood of kings" she whispered to his ear. "Imagine what I could do with the blood of the Kings of the Rock." She said, eying Joffrey almost with hunger.
Had she… What was she… wh—
Stannis seemed to come to a decision, he turned to face him, and projected his voice to carry. All the men around the plaza seem to grow quiet as he spoke. "Joffrey Waters, for the crimes of being an impostor and a traitor, I, Stannis of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rohynar and the First Men, King of the Seven kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die." He said as he turned and walked away, back to his men.
At last, the realization hit Joffrey.
They intend to burn me.
One of the men tossed a torch to the pile, and a roaring bonfire was soon underway. Not like this prayed Joffrey to any god that could hear him. Please not like this.
His screams echoed throughout Baelor's plaza before the purple consumed him.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone