Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

Convincing the other petty merchant houses to unite against Marelos would be a task in and of itself. The question was not whether an organized resistance movement was a good idea, everyone could see the writing on the wall. The question was whether such a front could be strong enough to resist him. Many houses would prefer to prematurely sell him their ventures over the Shivering Sea before being forced to hand them over anyway, only at a sixth of their real value and with a ton of debt besides. Others were evaluating the possibility of moving to greener pastures, or less freezing seas as the case may be. Why die in the Shivering Sea when one could make a decent living in the safer, although more crowded, routes of the Narrow Sea?

If the Stars Merchant House was to lead a coalition against Marelos, then it would have to be the strongest House of all participants… in other words, they had to show themselves strong, strong and committed.

Their close ties to Lazono Parhaan's trading ventures in Lorath and White Harbor were thus deepened… the man had been all too enthusiastic about the possibility of finally avenging his dead cousin, driven to ruin and suicide ten years ago when Marelos first tried to take over.

Joffrey had run the numbers though, and it would still not be enough. They needed more assets, and more importantly, they needed to appear completely committed to the cause. They needed to be completely committed to the Shivering Sea, so as to make it impossible for them to survive a Marelos victory as a merchant house.

To that end, Sansa had the brilliant idea to get to Tregidos Sanatis before Marelos could finish him off. Tregidos had been a relatively big player in the northern routes, but the man had seemed more ghost than mortal when they'd met him. Driven off by a combination of hostile takeovers, supplier acquisitions, and bribes, Marelos had ripped the heart out of Tregidos' trading concern. He was the man whose fall had tipped off Lazono about the return of Marelos Hartios and his old ambitions in the first place, and he'd reached Braavos a week after the soiree at the Hollwyn's. Everyone had expected him to just sell what was left of his ships and holdings to Marelos… after all, the Iron Bank was calling its debts and the only one buying anything even related to the northern routes at the moment was Marelos himself.

Which was why the bastard had been so surprised to find out Tregidos' debt had been paid off, his holdings incorporated into House Stars. Once Sansa had carefully and quietly broached the matter, first through a 'chance' meeting with the man's wife at the Purple Harbor, and then through his son, Master Tregidos had been all too willing to sell them everything in exchange for a steady, expensive salary and the promise of seeing Malerios' face when it all finally fell on him.

House Stars' fate was now directly interwoven to the Shivering Sea trade routes, its separation certain annihilation instead of the mere catastrophe it would have been before the merger. With Tregidos' advise, contacts and the dregs of his former trading empire, plus the their strong ties with House Parhaan, House Stars began to be courted by all the smaller merchant houses with substantial interests in the Shivering Sea.

Sansa had forced Joffrey to temporarily expand the house staff considerably, to his dismay. It left a slight, bad taste in his mouth to see the freewheeling maids and footmen, the rows of servants shuffling about and serving the many guests of tonight's soiree…

"That's Tycho Innarinos and his wife," Sansa whispered in his ear, drawing him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the veritable event that had seen Dure House transformed into one big dancing and feasting hall.

"Innarinos… They hold about a fifth of the Clammer's camps in the north eastern peninsula," Joffrey recited as he frowned. He was familiar with a lot of Braavos' productive industries, even enjoying good relations with a few of them, but he was still a bit confused by Tycho's presence here.

"What are they doing here though?" he asked Sansa. They didn't have any ships at all, and their main costumer was Gulltown, quite aways from the Shivering Sea.

"I told Master Tycho that with complete control of the Northern routes, Marelos would have a near monopoly on Ibbenese clams. What would stop him from, say, dumping the price of his pearls until Tycho wouldn't be able to compete?" she said sweetly.

"Ah," Joffrey said approvingly, "So that's the reason you absconded with the man for a full half hour back in Lazono's feast last week," Joffrey commented airily, "I admit I was getting a bit worried about what you two had been up to," he teased her with an expression of mocking credulity.

Master Tycho had more than seventy years to his name, after all.

"Worried? Or jealous?" she whispered as she leaned her head sideways, exposing her long, white neck. The move wouldn't have been out of place if she were a confident courtesan, but the blush in her cheeks and the quick blinking betrayed Sansa's nervousness.

"Definitively jealous," Joffrey said as he closed the quarter step that separated them and he leaned on her.

Thinks she's the only one that can play that game eh? Joffrey thought as Sansa closed her eyes slightly.

"Very jealous," he whispered in her ear, savoring the way she slowly let the air out of her lungs, as if she were out of breath.

"We should focus," she said, looking away.

"…Yeah, we should," Joffrey responded, suddenly feeling vaguely nauseous with himself.

"Th-that's Draqyrio Vynerys and his wife, Teyia. They own a dozen cogs and primarily trade iron for furs in Morosh," Sansa told him as she aimed her head towards the man that was walking towards them, a superbly dressed woman by his side. "We need to be careful with him, he's been meeting Marelos' representatives all week. He's proud and quite prickly from what I've heard, so handle him with care," she added quickly as the man and his companion reached them.

"Master Jonnel, lady Selya," nodded the stern faced, slightly overweight man.

"Thank you for the invitation," added Teyia Vynerys, her fine dress of white furs clashing with the sapphires and jades of her husband's grey attire.

"The pleasure is ours," Joffrey said with a nod. "How fares your luck in the high seas, Master Draqyrio?" he asked the man.

"No such thing as luck, merely skill and opposition," he said cuttingly, his severe eyes narrowing.

"Of course," Joffrey agreed with an annoyed smile, "Has the skill of your clients made your ventures difficult, then?" he asked him.

"Yes," said Draqyrio, shaking his head very slowly, "The war in Westeros has left the smiths and iron miners of White Harbor permanently employed to House Manderly for the foreseeable future. My Moroshi clients are starting to look for other sources of weaponry," he said sourly.

Joffrey tilted his head, sensing opportunity, "House Stars would of course be more than happy to temporarily make our stocks of steel ingots available-"

"I do not need nor did I ask for your steel stores, Master Jonnel," the man cut him off.

Joffrey took a breath of fresh air as he looked at the man, "Apologies, I merely thought-"

"That we were in need of charity? You thought wrongly, Master Jonnel," the man cut him off again as his wife looked on in hidden exasperation.

What is wrong with this man?! Joffrey thought as he raised his chin, "Dire must be your straits if you thought me a purveyor of charity Master Draqyrio. It would seem your situation betrays you," Joffrey told him with a small, lopsided smile, enjoying the flinch in his eyes.

"And I think your manners-" Draqyrio's voice was starting to rise in intensity when Sansa suddenly cut him off before things could escalate further.

"Please forgive my husband, he's just envious of your wares. He doesn't quite know how to get you to part from them," Sansa interjected quickly as she placed a hand on Draqyrio's arm. "Your lady wife looks splendid in them, after all," she added, guiding Draqyrio's eyes with her own towards his wife.

"Thank you dear Selya," said Tayia with a grateful smile, moving her shoulder slightly and showing off the beautiful, pristine white furs occasionally interposed by smallish black spots.

"Jonnel has been trying to get me one of those for quite a while," Sansa said as she looked at Joffrey meaningfully.

"Indeed I have," said Joffrey, following Sansa's lead but hesitating when she kept looking at him. It was clear she'd deigned his answer insufficient for the situation at hand.

He struggled for something else to say during a half second before nodding again, "The thought of my lady wife in such pelts does sometimes keep me awake at night," he said seriously.

There was an eerie silence for a full two seconds before lady Teyia erupted in laughter, giggling like a little girl as Sansa turned red from chin to forehead. Even Draqyrio seemed amused, the corner of his mouth rising slightly.

It was Joffrey's turn to feel his face throbbing red as he realized what he'd said and Sansa laughed slightly. "Ah, to be so young again," said lady Tayia with a nostalgic smile, holding on to Draqyrio's arm.

"So you see, Master Draqyrio? My husband was only trying to get ahold of a few of those," Sansa improvised, somehow keeping the flush out of her voice as the man nodded in understanding.

"A delicate matter," Joffrey added, still serious.

"So I see," said Draqyrio, still slightly off balance. His wife was holding his arm a bit more tightly now, her smile altogether mischievous, and he could see from the corner of his eye how Sansa gestured at a nearby servant. "I would of course be willing to provide a few specimens for your lady wife's perusal," finally added Draqyrio.

"I would be most grateful," Joffrey told him with a nod.

"Wine? I badgered my husband for this vintage day and night," Sansa said as the servant carrying a tray with filled cups reached them.

"Saathian grapefruits?" Draqyrio asked after he took a sip from one, surprised.

"Indeed! Do you like them?" Sansa asked, surprised.

Joffrey at least would have been completely fooled by her surprise, if he did not know Sansa had researched the Vynerys' thoroughly for the past week.

"I'll admit to acquiring the taste in my youth, mostly because there was a lack of anything else to drink in Morosh," said Draqyrio, his smile a little bigger now. Tayia also tasted the vintage, smiling to herself as if it were a private joke.

Joffrey sipped the wine gently. It had a strong aftertaste and a fruity aroma, and he found he rather liked it, to his surprise.

"I must thank you again for those pelts," Joffrey told the prickly man as he sipped the wine that Sansa had supposedly been 'badgering' him about. "Please allow me to return the favor. I know a man in White Harbor who represents the interests of the more outlaying mines," he added tentatively. He'd been struggling to find common ground, and the man detested what he saw as 'charity' even if it would keep him out of the claws of Marelos…. But perhaps favor trading was a different matter?

Draqyrio looked on the verge of interrupting, but Joffrey ploughed on, "I can't promise anything but a good word you understand, but he may be able to help with your supply woes for a modest markup," he said as if it were nothing too onerous.

"Markup or not, finding another honest source of iron nearby would be appreciated," Draqyrio said politely, a glint in his eyes.

"Ah, and there are the Gowyns," Sansa said suddenly, "A thousand apologies Master Draqyrio, lady Teyia," she said regretfully, to the nod of Draqyrio and the brilliant smile of Teyia.

Sansa guided him away from the couple, and she couldn't withhold herself for long.

"Pelts Joffrey? Seriously?" she said from the corner of her mouth, exasperated.

"Hey, it did work," Joffrey told her with a brilliant smile. "Besides, they'd suit you," he added glibly.

"Thank you," she told him as they sorted through the soiree, greeting couples and directing the odd servant. "Must you be so impatient though? The way you handled Draqyrio at first was just sad," she scolded him.

"I lost my patience to stupidity a long time ago Sansa. Being prickly and rejecting a helping hand was not going to help him survive Marelos," he said with a shrug.

"That's your problem with these things, you lack patience," she told him as she guided him towards their next target.

"Worried they might think of us barbarians?" he asked her.

"We're Westerosi. We're already barbarians, my dear husband," she corrected.

"Glad you're understanding the Braavosi mindset," Joffrey told her with a snort.

They made their pleasantries with a few of the others guests, probing and forming the beginnings of a group capable of standing up to Marelos.

"It did work in the end, didn't it?" Joffrey said as they cleared another group, shrugging with his eyebrows.

Sansa laughed before shaking her head, "Yes, yes it did. We make a good team," she said.

"We do," he said with a fond smile.

-: PD :-

And so from soiree to soiree, from feast to feast and from meeting to meeting, what some had already began to call the 'Shivering Sea Consortium' was formed. Sansa had been right about one thing, he didn't have the patience to deal with many of what he thought of as fools and idiots.

She did, though. Her budding skill in the arts of the courtier came as a blessing to Joffrey, who could strike after she'd charmed them with ten times more effectiveness. Once she roped them in, he dazzled them with his detailed charts and reports, showing off his not inconsiderable skill at mercantilism, as Sansa whispered about the evils of Marelos to their ears.

They spent the rest of the year like that, building the coalition to stand up to the huge trading concern Marelos had spent is his entire life building to dominate the northern trade routes, when he was not busy funding expeditions to Yi-Ti.

Their contacts in Westeros kept feeding them vital information, not only of current events but of other things as well. Fluctuations in the price of grain, rumors of discontent in the Vale, the numbers of mobilized men… Sansa had determined to be as informed as they could be, when they finally decided to rule Westeros, and Joffrey had agreed. Foreknowledge would be an invaluable tool when that time came, a vital one to balance the great odds stacked against them.

It seemed that the Tyrell's had allied with the Lannisters as they had done so many times before, though thankfully not by the hands of Littlefinger. He had received his customary stab in the chest early in this life anyway… Joffrey had taken to stabbing the man in a different quarter of his heart every time, seeing how precise he could get with a single mortal wound.

He hadn't told Sansa about that last one.

The superior tactical leadership of the Young Wolf and King Stannis had seen them win some stunning victories against their foes, but the Lannister's manpower advantage had seen them gradually retaking the Riverlands under a mountain of bodies, its vulnerable geography a boon to the attackers as long as the crossings were bypassed or otherwise avoided. The seats of houses Darry and Mooton had already been sacked, and the Bay of Crabs had been completely sealed off from the Stark-Baratheon alliance. It was rumored Tywin was buying any sellsword company he could get his hands on, and that King Stannis himself had been sighted in the Vale.

It had been a bit more than two years since they'd reached the City-on-the-Lagoon, and Joffrey was not as surprised as Sansa was when they received an invitation to the Oniras family manor. Their budding power block had allowed the smaller merchant houses to punch far above of their weight… and Marelos Hartios had taken notice.

"It's a trap, not worth it," Joffrey dismissed it after he read the immaculately scribed letter.

"But Joffrey, we could get to the heart of the Marelos' power! The Oniras are one of the three families keeping the Sealord in check for him. With only one of them breaking ranks Marelos will fall, sooner or later," she reasoned.

"You think the Oniras' would break ranks so openly? It's a trap Sansa, thought for what I don't know," Joffrey told her, nodding in thanks at Adaro after the old head of household left the rest of their letters in their desk.

He made a point of ignoring the paw prints on the man's trousers. Lady had taken an unhealthy liking to chewing on the poor man's clothes... though at least it hadn't been a shoe this time.

"We've never been able to even speak with any of the three houses. Now could be the chance to end him for good… if the Oniras' are smelling blood and we provide the right push…" Sansa trailed off as Joffrey shook his head slightly.

"Joffrey please… just, trust me on this," she pleaded.

-: PD :-

The Oniras' manor was located only a few blocks away from the Purple Harbor, the port where only Braavosi ships could dock. The Sealord's Palace was clearly visible atop its small hill, and The Moon Pool was but a five minute walk away.

The manor was in the style of Old Braavos, possessing a somewhat squat architecture which seemed all the more prestigious by the lack of exterior ornamentation. Inside however, the grey walls were tastefully decorated with Lyseni velvet encased in frames of semi-precious stones, which were liberally peppered throughout the rooms. Fine wares from every corner of the earth were present, including a suspiciously large amount of precious Yi-Tish porcelain worth their weight in gold.

They spent most of the evening socializing with the other guests, the high and mighty of Braavos and even more distant cities such as Lorath and Pentos, but as midnight neared Sansa saw her chance.

"There, Master Belano Oniras…" Sansa whispered to Joffrey as they refilled their cups. Their host was alone at the moment, contemplating a big vase completely covered in beautiful Yi-Tish calligraphy in a room carefully hidden from most of the guest-filled areas.

"I don't like this… I may be completely hopeless at manipulation, but I've learned to smell this stuff," he told her as Sansa started to walk towards the man.

"We won't know until we try," Sansa whispered back, and Joffrey knew denying this would be a blow to the budding, true trust that had been growing between them recently, independent of the insidious influence of the Purple.

They reached Belano just as he turned, a polite expression at the ready as he nodded courteously. "Master Jonnel, lady Selya, I hope the food has been to your liking?" he asked.

Master Belano is a master of the understatement, Sansa thought as she beheld the tall, thinly built man. Not even the Red Keep's kitchen had been able to provide dishes so exotic and tasteful at the same time, and they haven't even reached dinner.

"It was truly splendid Master Belano, you must give my compliments to your staff," she said, demure.

"Glad to please," he said courteously as he turned towards the vase slightly, as if he was back at appreciating its beauty.

Sansa swallowed silently as she took a half step, looking at the vase as well. Joffrey tensed, but followed all the same.

Sometimes he can be too paranoid, Sansa thought. They had to regain the initiative against Marelos somehow. Joffrey himself admitted to that.

"A fine piece," she commented idly.

Belano nodded slightly, but didn't say anything else.

"Peace and prosperity, a dream any man could get behind of," Joffrey suddenly spoke, looking at the calligraphy.

"You know Yi-Tish?" Belano asked, impressed.

"'May your home know peace-within, may your family know plenty and never need. May your hearth never freeze, may the winds never blow within," he translated roughly.

An apt blessing, in the years to come, Joffrey thought as he saw the tigers and twisting dragons decoratively coiled below the scripture.

"You seem well travelled despite your age, Master Jonnel," said Belano.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Joffrey told him.

"Aesthetically beautiful and a vessel of wisdom. Does it mayhaps carry something physical as well?" Sansa quipped.

"Nothing at the moment. I did search it," he said with a slight smile.

"Such a fine gift would only be worthy of the closest of friends," Sansa probed carefully.

"Or those wishing to be so," complemented Belano just as carefully.

"To give such a beauty for the mere hope of friendship… then your friendship must be truly sought after, Master Belano," she said.

Belano walked around the vase slowly, not taking his gaze from it as he answered, "It can seem that way, when some other, vastly greater wish depends upon such friendship," he said with a verbal flourish.

Sansa let the silence last for just an extra second before nodding, gazing at the snarling tigers, "Such a thing seems a poor base indeed for a friendship. Brittle even. What would happen once that greater wish were achieved, I wonder?" Sansa mused out loud.

Belano paused for a second as well, seemingly thoroughly interested by the calligraphy, "Such are the risks of life. To spurn such friendship would pose even greater risk," he murmured. Sansa could just see the truth behind the man's mask…

He's hesitating, she thought quickly, her eyes widening slightly.

"Would it really?" she asked as if she were talking about the weather, "Many new developments have occurred lately, developments which might shake that assessment," she said very, very carefully.

She felt Joffrey squeeze her hand as Belano showed interest for the first time. "Indeed?" he probed.

It's now or never, Sansa thought, Joffrey tensing by his side.

… He didn't stop her though.

"Certain contacts in Lorath seem to think so at least," she said cryptically.

"Not enough to faze my dear friend," said Belano as he shook his head.

He wants more, Sansa thought as she nodded, "Our dear friend's greater wish has left a lot of people annoyed, back in Lorath. Certain warehouse owners especially," she conceded.

Belano looked considering, for the first time lifting his gaze from the vase, "If that is so, then the risks involved in this entire venture do indeed change," he said as he tilted his head minutely, and despite his outwardly calm demeanor Sansa could see the tension and indecision within. She had tried to reveal as little as possible but it was clear Belano was understanding her. Through their contacts, the Shivering Sea Consortium had convinced a sizeable block of Lorathi warehouse owners (and through them, a not inconsiderable part of the city's porters in turn) to ready a surprise boycott on Marelos' goods, just when a considerable part of his trading fleet arrived at the city. It would not be a mortal blow, but one serious enough that Sansa and Joffrey hoped would crack the façade of invulnerability the up jumped thug had enjoyed this past year… furthering splintering his allies.

"Such a thing would have to be carefully timed," said Belano.

"It would," Sansa said carefully.

"Ah, the trading fleet," Belano deduced, "I would need assurance that you're not bluffing of course… a name," he said. Sansa stood still, shocked at the sudden departure from the almost painful double speak.

That had been brutally direct.

It's almost as if he doesn't care anymore, about… not only about the matter at hand but about us as well…

"I—please excuse us Master Belano," she said with a quick, apologetic half curtsy.

"Of course, of course," muttered their host, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"I don't like him, but you did seem to be making a dent there… surprisingly," Joffrey muttered as they walked away, but he became steadily more alarmed at the way Sansa's face kept draining of color.

"We've been played," She whispered urgently.

"How," Joffrey asked immediately as he put a hand on the pommel of his hidden dagger.

"Belano, he never-" she never finished the sentence before they bumped against something, or rather someone.

"I told you, not here!" Marelos Hartos whispered urgently at them both, his tone of voice just high enough to be carried to the nearby guests and no more.

Sansa seemed like a startled doe as her face slowly turned from shock to anger. Joffrey's grip on his pommel also increased in tension as he slowly realized what had just happened. Marelos looked resplendent in his fine pelts interwoven with Yi-Tish silk, the whole ensemble threaded with gold and silver.

"Dear, I've been doing this for a long while. Your efforts amuse me," said the Merchant Prince, this time whispered truly and only for them to hear. Before either of them could respond Marelos was gone, his quick but sedate walking pace carrying him into a crowd of guests.

"That fucker…" Joffrey whispered.

"We have to get out of here," Sansa whispered urgently as they quickly walked by the reception hall and out through the great stairs that lined the outer patio of the manor.

"Belano was fishing for information, he never intended to turn his cloak," Joffrey muttered angrily, "I knew there was something rotten about this."

"Joffrey, it's worse than that. He wanted for us to seem to be meeting him," she said urgently.

"The rumors will spread, but it'll only be rumors Sansa," he tried to calm her as they reached the canals.

Sansa shook her head, "By their own they would be damaging enough, but when paired with-"

"Lorath. Fuck," Joffrey muttered with feeling, "We're seen talking with Marelos and a week later he thwarts our trap in Lorath," he said as they reached their gondola, Inneo tensing at their demeanor.

"He played us," Joffrey muttered angrily.

"He played me," Sansa whispered as she shook her head.

-: PD :-

They tried to warn their allies, but there was not much to be done... Belano and his master were intelligent people. Paltry as it had been, Sansa had given them all the information they needed to infer the rest. Within a week the plan had been shattered, several warehouses in Lorath bought out and quite a few others closed due to a mixture of fires, corrupt guardsmen and other general chicanery.

The rest fell in line.

Lazono lost considerable influence in his homeland, and the short lived Shivering Sea Consortium hanged upon a thread as several members added one plus one and got five, Many concluded the whole thing had been a scheme to befuddle Marelos' opposition, as rumors of secret meetings in the Oniras estate eroded both Joffrey and Sansa's authority. A month later two different families had sold out their concerns to Marelos, preferring outrageously low prices than certain bankruptcy to his schemes.

Sansa let out a loud groan when she read the letter detailing the third family to drop out of their little conspiracy.

"Another one?" Joffrey asked her from the fireplace. He was standing right next to it as he lazily tilted a cup of wine, trying to get his warmth back after the walk from his office near Ragman's Harbor. Braavos' climate had been turning colder and colder these past few months.

"I was so sure… Belano… he was triple acting, using what I thought as his façade as a third deception," Sansa whispered in mixed awe and anger. "I thought I had managed a read on him, just barely but a read nonetheless. I thought I'd pierced his unconcerned, stoic façade and reached the truth behind it… but that was behind yet another falsehood. The slightly uncertain, cautious but opportunistic family head behind the façade was but another mask," she repeated.

"Braavosi like that kind of stuff. They're all into masks," Joffrey said with a quiet snort.

"And the whole scheme… it was triple layered too! Lazono had a man in Belano's staff, and from what he told me there'd been another plot to make us spill a whole jug of wine over the main table…" She muttered.

"And hopefully atop Marelos' head," Joffrey added.

Sansa shot him an irritated and slightly nonplussed look before continuing, "Don't you see Joffrey? I fell right into their trap from the moment I pressured you to go. Any of the outcomes there would have been a win for Marelos… If I hadn't approached Belano like a damned open book, then Marelos would have made his little move near the reception anyway, and if we'd somehow avoided him and made it to the meal then we'd still have appeared like a pair of witless Westerosi barbaroi by spilling half a jug of priceless wine atop the other guests," she said vehemently, "Sure, the last one would have just been a small if shameful prestige hit, bit still… every outcome was in Marelos' favor!" she ended in a huff, her irritation on the rise at Joffrey's slight smile. He was still slowly swirling the wine on his cup as he looked at her.

A short silence followed before Sansa shook her head, "Why are so nonchalant about the whole damn thing?!" she finally asked him.

"You're cute when you get mad. The red suits your hair," he said glibly.

Sansa crossed her arms in a huff, trying to ignore how surprisingly pleasant the small, backhanded compliment felt, "Aren't you getting any of this Joffrey?" she asked again.

Joffrey kept smiling as he returned his gaze to the cup, looking at it for a second before taking a drink. "How many times do you think I've lain in the mud, broken and defeated?" he asked her, the mood in the room suddenly turning grey, strange. "How many lives do you think I spent training and screaming, trying to learn as my enemies danced circles, no, spheres around me?" he asked once more before he drained the rest of the cup and went to sit by her side in the long couch.

"Many times…" Sansa answered, the irritation giving way to that odd feeling that arose when they talked about Joffrey's past. They'd spent nights just talking about it, Joffrey weaving tales both grand and small, happy and harrowing.

"This won't be the first time you're outsmarted, nor the last. If I've learned anything about life during my torment, Sansa, is that this world lives and breathes. Ships sail, men plot, mountains fall where there are none to see nor hear, great avalanches which consume entire forests with no one else in this world the wiser," he said as he stared at something beyond the fireplace and the small crossbow atop it. "This world is in constant movement… men and women hold their own desires, always, always striving to achieve them, whether we care to stand in their way or not. I've been snared in so many plots I've honestly lost count of them, and there's no way to simply survive them all, all the time," he told her quietly.

Sansa was staring at him, eyes hazy with thoughts unspoken, "So how can you succeed then? How can you live?" she asked him, feeling a bit lost.

"You pick yourself up, and try again," Joffrey said simply, his hand holding hers.

It was Sandor, fittingly enough, the man that taught him that lesson.

Sansa relaxed a bit as she laid back, holding Joffrey's hand tightly as she thought.

Pick yourself up again, she mused as she stared at the fire.

-: PD :-