Kapitel 198: Joffrey 3 295 AC
The whistles and pops of the strange lights his cousin's vessels seemed intent on distributing everywhere filled the skies above as the Prince of the Narrow Sea made his grand entrance to the port, and Joffrey walked atop the sea wall, following behind the aged spymaster, who had shown him a small passage out onto it.
"Now, how do you suppose those work?" The man mused, scratching at his chin slightly. "Clearly by some property similar to his cannons, but I cannot understand how he avoids the entire charge exploding at once."
Joffrey looked up at the things, their bright lights dim against the blue sky, though more obvious when cast against the clouds that followed behind the fleet of massive ships.
If the Great Stag had made an impression years ago, then the vessels his cousin brought on this occasion were a show of force to far surpass them. That was a trader, these were warships, and as he understood it held a great many of his cannons in their hulls. The lead was painted white, and at his head, he spotted…
Joffrey stepped back, and was glad for the inward-facing battlements, for he very nearly fell some ten feet backward.
Whatever he had expected of his cousin, it had not been this. He had expected arrogance, a lust for power, dominance, and warring spirit, like his father but perhaps more cruel.
Instead, his cousin, and the Princess of Dorne, his bride with him, were cast beneath the shadow of a great thundercloud that rose from his back, and filled his body, monstrous and vile it formed a cloud of swirling soul-stuff above him, taking on a firm of a thunderhead, shaped much like a man, but also bestial in its own way, he saw odd shapes move within it, strange spheres in circles and bristles of what might be cannons at its edges.
It reminded him of the demon which had slashed his chest, though it seemed less directly malevolent, and at once stronger and weaker together.
He steadied himself, stepping back to the opposite ledge, and staring at that great towering soul-thing, wondering what exactly his cousin was to hold it within him. Surely it meant he was a sorcerer as the rumors said, but there must be more to it than that, for he had seen the alchemists at court, and they lacked any such shape, instead, their souls seemed to blaze at the edges with pale green flames.
No, whatever his cousin was, it was not normal.
"It seems he has no intention of dissuading the rumors, interesting." Vary mused, though Joffrey was not fooled into thinking he spoke only to himself. He could see the man's soul turned his way in part. "I imagine he wants to dissuade rivals through a show of force."
Joffrey followed the old man's gaze and saw the organized and disciplined men marching off the boats, carrying their small cannons in their hands. He even saw much of the court, his Father, Lord Stannis, and the Dornish party as well, a mass of happiness and bitterly suppressed anger, moving to the docks, to meet the column of brightly uniformed men, which split in half as if they had rehearsed the action a thousand times. Out of them came Arthur, beneath that great stormy cloud, and his bride to be at his side, with a retinue behind, though they were obscured from him by the shadow of the storm at this distance.
He felt a pang of annoyance in his heart, no such prestigious delegation had met him beyond the gates.
'But then, it is not my wedding.' Joffrey reminded himself, gripping onto the ramparts before him. He could see clearly now his cousin's face, unscathed by greyscale. He wore a proud smile, his whole form radiating power and pride that seemed to drown out all save the other Baratheon's present as he greeted them, hugging his father and mother, and greeting his King and new Father in Law, there was some tawny woman there who moved to the Dorne is party as well.
It was then the Joffrey noticed the crowd. All around him the press of bodies as more people climbed the walls to watch, and the cutthroat and beggars with their rotten souls that moved around him, a sea of orange and green that threatened to drown him out, and he realized with a start that he had lost sight of the spymaster.
He fought through the crush, half tempted to draw his blade and force a path, but restrained by Lord Eddard's teachings. When a man could draw his sword, and when he should not.
It was hard to focus in such a crowd, with so much going on around him, so many souls caught up in the fireworks show or the marching soldiers or the blaring horns that punctuated it all with loud and garish music.
He needed to make it back to the keep. To find his mother even. Whatever sickness availed her soul she would still at least know how to protect him in the coming days, for he had no doubts that the anger he had seen suppressed in the Dornish souls was directed towards his own family on her side.
He would have to tell Lord Tywin as well, let him know that they were plotting against him. The Golden lion would never let his family be hurt, and for all his pride he would know what to do.
Perhaps he could have one of the Kingsguard assigned to guard him if he asked his father, his Uncle would be best, but he would settle for any of them. He hasn't met the Demonsbane since the war had ended, but he had liked the man well enough.
It would be interesting to look upon his soul.
He smiled as he spotted the Starks in the hall as he reentered, leaving one of the balconies, smiling as he rushed to Lady Sansa's side. She at least would be an anchor of stability in this mad keep, along with the rest of the Starks in their pale greys and whites.
The girl seemed in good cheer, her smile radiant as she turned towards him. "Ah, Joffrey, did you see the dress Lady Arianne is wearing?"
He found himself completely flat-footed by the question. Lady Sansa smiling and excited as she toyed with her hair. "Er… well, yes."
He had seen it certainly but made little note in his mind. She had been under the storm cloud after all. It was hard to pay attention to such things when a titan stood above them.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"...yes." Joffrey nodded, struggling to find his footing, the Pink of Sansa's soul almost overpowering his senses with its strength at present. "Though I think it'd look better on you."
"Oh!" Sansa exclaimed, covering her mouth, her soul flushing even deeper into its customary pink. "But-well, I am hardly a beauty like Lady Arianne. I'd not be able to wear it nearly as well."
"Nonsense." Joffrey smiled, finding his self-confidence, now that the topic had turned to conversations he had touched on with the girl before. "When we are wed I will have them make you a dress finer and more beautiful than any in the realm. Even Princess Arianne will be green with envy."
It was the right thing to say, as Sansa threw her arms around his shoulders, smiling and hugging him. "You promise?"
"Yes, I promise." He smiled, reciprocating the hug as he noted that they had at some point lost the rest of the Stark Party.
"When we're wed I'll get you all the dresses you could ever want."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein