Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

Joffrey's knights swept throughout the northern ends of the Bay of Crabs, taking out deserters and holdouts as they marched on Gulltown. They quickly realized there would be no siege though; the city had already been set ablaze. Aegon's sellswords had been the first to flee the battlefield, and thus the ones which had suffered the least amount of casualties. They had turned on their masters pretty quickly after news of the defeat had reached them, pillaging the city and trying to get a hold of anything which could float, trying to escape back to Essos and away from Joffrey's reputation.

It reminded him of the chaos he'd seen when he'd arrived at the Dawn Fort, marching at the head of a column of soldiers and finding absolute madness of a wholly human nature. Much as he'd done before, Joffrey led the slaughter of the panicked sellswords as he entered through the opened city gates, the Royal Navy intercepting the ships that managed to leave the harbor.

He'd learned from his mistakes in the Reach, taking the time to settle the issues surrounding the rebel lords. Hostages were taken, keeps and lands exchanged and the King's Peace restored even if part of the Vale had been devastated by the fighting.

Lord Royce was made Warden of the East until young Robyn Arryn was of age. The Royces of Runestone had been put to the sword after the Golden Company's surprise attack, and the lord of the only surviving branch had been Joffrey's stoic supporter ever since… The Vale would do well under his guidance.

The stories about how Brightroar had come to his aid in his time of need grew more exaggerated by the telling, and Joffrey was deeply amused by the reaction of his countrymen at the blatant show of magic. He hadn't cared much for it during the heat of the moment, when an awe struck soldier asked him how he'd done that. 'I needed a sword to even the fight against the usurper' had been a particularly lazy answer, but his troops had bought it whole, hook line and sinker.

Magic hadn't even entered the discussion. Of course Good King Joffrey, warrior and scholar, had nothing to do with the likes of Bloodraven, accursed and feared sorcerer. Every Westerosi knew that someone in shiny plate who led from the front was incapable of otherworldly horrors… No, Good King Joffrey's Valyrian Steel sword was but a sign of the heavens themselves favoring his cause and lineage.

Joffrey supposed he painted a distinct image quite at odds with that of a sorcerer. Goring his enemies to death with a set of bronze antlers might have had something to do with it… After all, who would ever think the son of Robert Baratheon sorcerer material?

He didn't know if that reaction was because by now he was undisputed as King of Westeros, or if it was because the people truly thought the whole farce to be true…

Then again, Sansa's quiet visit to the Sept of Baelor and the High Septon's subsequent confirmation of the 'miracle' must have helped a bit.

Joffrey himself was received like a hero back in the capital, though all the flower petals and the cheering smallfolk couldn't quite take the edge off the wound Meera left in his psyche, her hollow expression seared in his mind as she gazed at Jon's casket and the mourning Ghost, who had not left his side ever since.

Sansa had been strangely stunned by the news. She'd never gotten along with Jon before this life, for reasons she had trouble putting into words. To learn that he'd died fighting to protect her husband had left her slightly dazed, thinking about memories of her early childhood in Winterfell and Jon's presence in them, Catelyn's glare a constant specter feeding into her own uncritical disdain of the brave boy.

Lancel and Olyvar wrote that Robb's great victory in the North had been overshadowed by the death of his half-brother, and he'd cut off the celebrations so he could return to Winterfell and bury him in the Stark's own crypt. Mance Rayder and most of the wildling leadership was dead, the host's constituent tribes splitting apart. Those few who survived kneeled to the Lord of Winterfell and were finally granted passage south, to the southernmost North and away from old grudges. Rumors about the White Walkers were pretty much ignored by the northern lords, and Joffrey knew the time to reveal the truth of their ultimate enemy was fast approaching. The invasion itself was bound to occur around six to seven years after he'd woken up, given the presence of Frey wights in the midst of the Dawn Fort's siege and some haphazard calculations…

He was fast approaching the fifth year of this life.

Their preparations would soon require everyone in Westeros to know the truth, and Joffrey dreaded the panic and disbelief that was to come. Kingsguards were replaced, Ser Jaime taking the mantle of Ser Barristan and all the more uncomfortable for it. The Small Council was filled with lords from the coalition that had supported the royals from the beginning; riverlanders, northmen, and westerlanders forming the bedrock of it while the Vale and the Stormlands filled secondary positions around them. The Reach had nothing but hostages, and Dorne was as silent and surly as ever, a constant concern on Sansa's side… The Iron Islands were similarly quiet, their lords dispersing after having carried out some sort of meeting on Pike, the more radical elements choosing to raid Essos instead.

The last potential problem before the Long Night that Joffrey could think of was Daenerys, but the scattered rumors coming from the east pretty much all agreed on her being hopelessly bogged down in Slaver's Bay, even crowning herself the Queen of all three slaver cities and vowing on their conquest. There had been constant battles near Yunkai and Mereen as a coalition of slavers marched their armies against her, war ravaging the land and showing no sign of ending within the next five years.

By then the world would have other concerns… if anyone was left alive to have them, that is.

The banners of war in the west were being stored, at least for the moment. Now it would be a waiting game, harvesting as much grain as they could as the roads were expanded and the Wall reinforced…

-: PD :-

"I still feel her sometimes. Lady," Sansa said absently as they cuddled in their bed, the concerns of state over for the night.

"How so?" Joffrey asked from behind, one hand gently stroking her hair.

"Like… as if she were right there, by my side. But then I realize she's not and it physically pains me," she said thoughtfully.

Joffrey kept scratching her head as he thought, eyes cloudy. "It makes me remember how it felt when I lost my arm, back in the Beyond," he said after a while.

Sansa turned to face him, grabbing his hand gently and tracing the contours of his arm. "Did it… burn?" she asked.

Joffrey tilted his head slightly before resting it completely on the pillow, "Yeah, that would be a way of describing it," he said.

"A warg," she mused idly, "I suppose a warg without her companion would be akin to losing a limb," she mused as she felt Joffrey's forearm, looking at his scars.

"I still can't get over that," Joffrey said with a gentle smile, "My very own sorceress," he quipped.

"I wish. Still, looking through the eyes of eagles or owls or something should be worth more than a thousand soldiers right? To a competent commander at least," she asked him.

"More like hummingbirds," he said cheekily; Sansa was convinced he'd never tire of that joke. She pressured his arm until she wiped that grin off his face, "Ow. Yeah, very useful. A million soldiers," he grunted.

"Ow! I'm serious Sansa!" he said with a small huff as she pressured him some more. "If you could get a mouse or something into the enemy's command tent…" he said longingly, as if he were about to devour a smoked roll after a session in the yard.

"I was thinking more about putting a big chainmail over Lady and riding her into battle by your side," she said instead.

Joffrey laughed, but the glint in Sansa's eyes made him wary, "Sansa, the battlefield-"

"What Joffrey? Is no place for a woman? Really?" she dared him.

He huffed instead, looking away before trying again, "My strength is on the battlefield and its environs, yours is on the court. Someone has to man the political front while I'm out there breaking skulls," he reasoned.

"What a fine, neat division of labor you have there dear," she said drily, "It's not as if that theory lasted less than a single life before it was torn to shreds," she told him. "Westeros isn't nice like that. Nor is the rest of the world. Circumstances change and plans crumble, and I will end up in some sort of battlefield sooner or later… so you better get used to the idea," she said defiantly.

Joffrey sighed as he blinked lazily, looking at her deep blue eyes, "I know," he muttered.

They spent a while there, gazing at each other as they remembered the colossal task on their shoulders. It was easy to forget about it when in the middle of things, and the gravity of it seemed all the greater when they remembered.

"Does it get any easier?" Sansa asked suddenly, remembering Lyra's face as she squirmed in surprise and Ser Davos' sword tore through her.

"Yes," Joffrey whispered after a long moment, "I'm afraid it does," he said.

"Good," she murmured in turn, holding his hands close. "Together," she whispered.

"Together," he swore.

-: PD :-

"I understand your point very well, Your Grace, but I still fail to understand the necessity of it," Tywin said drily, gazing at his sovereigns.

"Rest assured Lord Tywin, the gravity of the affair cannot be understated," Sansa rebuked her Hand gently.

"A gravity which needs to be resolved by a Grand Council? I hope you understand the implications of calling one at this juncture, after all the rebellions have been quashed," Tywin said sternly, still standing up in the Small Council chambers. The other members had long since left, and Joffrey sighted as he looked at his grandfather.

"We'll inform you when we have the evidence to back the claim in our hands, which shouldn't be long now. Until then, we require patience," Joffrey told him seriously.

"Very well then," Tywin finally sighed in defeat, standing up reluctantly and bowing. He was hallway towards the door when he suddenly stopped, turning to stare at Sansa like some sort of mechanism. "If I may be so bold, is this matter related to the realm's lack of an heir?" he asked gravely, almost woodenly as he stared at her.

Sansa placed a hand on Joffrey's shoulder before he could take a step forward, and she spoke before he could get an angry word in edgewise. "Of course not, you can lay those concerns to rest my lord," she said.

Tywin bowed again, oozing curdled relief and suspicion before leaving the room altogether.

"I swear, dealing with him is like trying to get juice out of a Grey Cacti," Joffrey muttered angrily, "And the juice is freaking poisonous," he added with a grunt.

Sansa patted him on the shoulder again, "Now now, no insulting the Hand of the Realm lest his pride prickles again," she said with a wayward grin.

"It's just- the sheer gall of the man, from this to stuff as petty as being the last to start on his dish when the rest of the council is dining together," Joffrey huffed as they walked out of the room and along one of the Red Keep's long corridors. "I gave him Blackfyre so he could stop hemming about Brightroar, but that just rechanneled his damned pride," he grumbled before taking a deep breath. "How was your morning anyway? Couldn't ask before Lord Manderly was all over the table tossing parchment like coppers," he asked her.

"Quiet, actually," she said, smoothing the small coronet over her head. "Had an early lunch with Maergery; all smiles and compliments," she said.

"That bad huh?" he said.

"Talk about cacti, this one's as thorny as they come," she said, resigned.

"Told you. That apple didn't fall far from the tree… or the pollen didn't fly far from the rose… though Olenna is a Redwyne by birth so I guess a ship carried the pollen?" he mused out loud.

"You're not making any sense Joffrey, bard thou are not," she said, amused.

"I was getting somewhere with it," he complained.

They crossed the threshold into the next hallway, a few servants bowing respectfully as they carried dirty laundry and food. "Stormking!" clipped an armsmen from the Stormlands as he straightened even more –somehow- standing guard over the next door.

Joffrey nodded at the man as they passed him by, and Sansa looked at him until he had the decency to smile a bit. "Tell them to stop, I can't handle it any longer," she told him, unable to repress a chuckle as they neared the next corridor, this one deserted as it guided them to the outer courtyard.

Joffrey didn't deign that with a respond, except to frown as he pushed out his chest. "In a coat of gold or a coat of black," he said gruffly, quickly as he tumbled over the words before Sansa could stop him, "A stag still has antlers and-mine-are-long-and-sharp-my-lord-as-long-and-sharp as-" he was interrupted as a yellow finch flew from the nearby window like a javelin, striking Joffrey in the center of his forehead with a clipped beak.

"Ow!" Joffrey grumbled, trying to catch the finch as Sansa chuckled again, directing it towards Joffrey's hair.

"He's not finding any antlers," she said innocently, still walking as Joffrey struggled to catch up, trying to ward off the bird as it tried to rummage through his hair.

"Come on Sansa! It's a good song!" he complained as he reached her, the finch flying to her extended index finger.

"No its not. It's a blatant copy with zero originality," she huffed, taking a few small seeds from the discreet pouch by her waist. "Not antlers yet hm?" she asked the cute yellow bird, smiling as it gobbled down the seeds.

"Anyway, any progress with her yet?" Joffrey asked, regaling the finch with a glare.

"I'm getting a handle on the woman's character alright. She's pretty good at this… though not as good as she thinks she is, I'd hazard. She lacks a certain bite," she said as the finch leapt off, flying away through the next window in the hallway.

"Maybe I should see her myself, it's been a long time…" Joffrey mused, looking at Sansa through the corner of his eye.

"No, it's not necessary. I've got her under control," she said quickly.

Too quickly.

There was a pregnant pause before Joffrey gave her a rakish grin, and Sansa groaned internally.

"Sansa…" he said slowly, tasting the word. "Are you worried?" he asked as his eyebrows rose higher and higher.

She knew her husband enough by now to not even try to deny it, "I'm not worried, not exactly," she almost grunted.

Joffrey kept staring at her, and Sansa grumbled before speaking again. "She's pretty," she admitted after a moment.

Joffrey kept staring at her with that damnable smirk.

"She's gorgeous Joffrey, I'm not blind!" she finally let it out. "All composed and dressed up like a peacock, and strutting like one as well!" she grumbled.

"Afraid she'll woe me like the errant kitty I am?" he asked suggestively.

"I know it's idiotic," she mumbled self-consciously, avoiding his gaze.

"Hm, she does have ample… qualities," he mused as he walked closer to her.

"That finch is still out there," Sansa warned him.

"Don't worry Sansa, she's got nothing on your butt," he quipped as he discreetly bumped his waist against hers.

"You would know hm?" Sansa said as she bumped him back, cornering him against the wall as she pressed against him. "You're certain you died before consummating that particular marriage?" she asked with a gimlet eye.

"Never did the deed!" he swore as Sansa stared, suspicious. The damnable finch flew from the window again, coming to a stop atop her shoulder and glaring at him with its little beady eyes.

"… I did see her naked –once- okay!?" he confessed. "She has nothing on your thighs as well," he added after a moment, feeling his wife's long legs with both hands.

She seemed undeterred as she huffed, the finch pecking Joffrey's forehead again. "Not good enough dear," she said before kissing him strongly.

"There's the bite," Joffrey chuckled before returning the favor, Sansa's hands roaming his breeches as they breathed harshly. "Lord Darry's supposed to be waiting by the Sept right?" he said reluctantly.

"What's the point of being royalty if you can't have a little fun now and then?" Sansa reasoned, and Joffrey found the argument very convincing as he flipped their positions, pinning Sansa against the wall.

"A servant is bound to find us," he said between kisses, "Royalty has beds too," he remembered as the poor finch seemed to grow dizzy; tumbling around them for a few seconds before flying out the nearest window as fast as it could.

"There's a storage room nearby," she whispered in his ear, sighing when Joffrey's hands wandered upwards.

"For old times' sake?" Joffrey agreed with a lusty chuckle.

Sansa suddenly grew wooden in his arms. "Stop," she told him.

"Why? Fuck Lord Darry," he said with feeling before frowning, "Actually scratch that plan," he said with another chuckle, tasting her neck and the Myrish perfume she loved so much.

"Joffrey, stop," she said again, an edge of panic in her voice as she grabbed his shoulders tightly.

"What's the matter?" he said as he looked around them, eyes cycling around the two ends of the deserted hallway. "Sansa?" he asked as her face grew pale.

"The birds… the birds are scared Joff," she stuttered as she rubbed her neck in anguish, the sparse little hairs on her arms standing on edge.

"Scared? Sansa what are you- what birds?" Joffrey asked her as he drew his arming sword, placing her at his back and leaving a hand free to summon Brightroar at a moment's notice.

"All of them," she whispered in terrified awe, and an earth shattering roar punctuated her words as the stones of the Red Keep trembled.

They ran to the nearby window and saw a black shape diving for the harbor, leaving a sea of bright red fire in its wake as it set the docks ablaze, the ships of the Royal Navy burning at anchor as two other shapes flew close by, incinerating the harbor itself and sections of the wall, scores of fishermen and sailors screaming as the flames ate them alive before they could reach the water.

"No…" Joffrey muttered as he gazed at the three dragons; a silver, long haired figure riding the black one. The bells of King's Landing were tolling, the whole city screaming as the black shape turned around for another pass. Its wings stretched by more than ten meters from tip to tip, black scales and eyes as red as the inferno it unleashed upon Baelor's Sept, melting the great bronze bells into slag as it perched upon the tallest tower and rained fire from above.

"Daenerys… she was supposed to stay in Mereen…" Joffrey whispered in stunned horror, watching as his city was set ablaze by three dragons. The green scales of Rhaegal shimmered as the beast flew low over the Street of Seeds, vomiting liquid fire and leaving a gash of red over the city. "She's going to burn down the entire city…" he muttered in horror as the flames leapt higher and he remembered the other time King's Landing had burned, at the hands of the Red Wolf.

He turned his gaze to Sansa as she snarled lowly. "That bitch is not going to burn down everything we've accomplished here," she vowed as she grabbed the windowsill with both hands, clamping down her eyes and showing her teeth as she inhaled sharply, as if she were lifting the weight of the world.

Joffrey leapt on the window by Sansa's side, looking down at the chaos of the outer courtyard. Men were running around in a daze, some trying to get buckets of water as others ran from the towers, strapping armor as they battered panicked servants out of the way.

"TO ARMS! MAN THE BALLISTAS!!!" he roared as he materialized Brightroar in a flash of eldritch light, "CROSSBOWS TO THE WALLS! OURS IS THE FURY!!!" he roared above the din, cutting through the panic as men turned to stare at him.

Sansa moaned, tilting her head slowly as Drogon wobbled in the air, her moan morphing into a scream as the dragon roared to the high heavens and turned to stare right at them from across the city.

Sansa screamed again as blood run from her nose, Joffrey holding her by the shoulder as she shook wildly and almost fell through the window. "I, I can't- He's so angry- too strong- " she moaned incoherently, breathing harshly as Joffrey vaulted back to the corridor, putting her hand around his shoulders and half carrying her through a set of stairs as a distant roar increased in intensity and a flash of heat erupted above them, the screams outside magnifying by a thousand as Sansa shook her head wildly and she straightened.

"You managed to stun him somewhat!" Joffrey bellowed over the cacophony as they ran down the stairs, "Can you do it again?" he asked her as they emerged into the courtyard. The section of the Red Keep where they'd been but seconds before was now in flames, and Sansa nodded decisively as she took in a breath of fresh air.

"I- I can try!" she said as she blinked the white out of her eyes. "You won't have much time!" she said with growing confidence as they ran across the courtyard.

"The green one's coming for another pass!!!" shrieked a Guardsman as Joffrey grabbed him by the shoulder.

"GET THE CROSSBOWS ON THE WEST WALL!" he roared in the man's face before shoving him towards it. Men bellowed as the bells kept tolling and Guardsmen and Redcloaks ran for the walls, officers hollering as teams carried lighter ballista pieces up the stairs and servants searched desperately for buckets.

Joffrey and Sansa ran for the stairs as well, the shadow of Drogon spinning away as Rhaegal came in for a pass, flying past the burning silhouette of Baelor's sept and heading straight for the Red Keep. The crossbowmen looked too shocked to run, ashen faced as stone-like hands followed the drill they'd been hammered on month after month.

Joffrey strode through the front rank, just a step away from the crenellations as the city burned and teams of shaking Stark guardsmen loaded the nearby ballistae; long wicked bolts of iron peeking from the siege engines. "We'll have but one chance!" Joffrey bellowed as he hefted Brightroar above, walking amongst the soldiers along the westernmost battlements, reaching Sansa who'd ran up to one of the crenellations and was staring at the approaching glimmer of green that was Rhaegal. "Wait for my signal!" he roared as more soldiers climbed the stairs and kneeled by the crenellations, the clanking of reloading crossbows an enveloping sound that almost managed to drown the city's screams as Sansa breathed deeply.

"This one's weaker," Sansa whispered, breathing harshly as Joffrey held her tightly, Brightroar still held aloft. "The other one –Drogon- there was this presence… fury… madness…" she whispered as she swayed, each breath tilting her back and forth as she blinked repeatedly.

"Do you have a feel on it?" Joffrey asked her as Rhaegal cleared the flames of Baelor's Sept, each wave of its wings a crack of sound as it raced for the Red Keep like an arrowhead.

"Yes," Sansa whispered as her eyes turned completely white and her breathing turned mechanical, regular.

"Wait for my word," Joffrey whispered, gazing as the green beast as it crossed the Hook.

"Here it comes!" screeched one of the crossbowmen.

"WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL! AIM FOR ITS MOUTH AND WINGS!" he bellowed, quivers rattling inside their crossbows as the men shook and a few ran for their lives.

"HOLD!... HOLD!!!" Joffrey roared as the wind picked up and Sansa's grip on the wall turned bloody, her nails breaking.

Rhaegal roared as it opened its maw, vermillion flames dripping from its maw as it reached Aegon's High Hill and Joffrey squeezed his wife's arm.

Sansa twisted her head harshly as the green dragon convulsed in midair for a moment, mouth agape and wings held wide as it wobbled in a daze that lasted a single second.

"LOOSE!!!" Joffrey roared as he slashed down with Brightroar, crossbows singing to the wind and ballistae shrieking defiance as the air was filled with iron and wood. Scores of bolts materialized all over Rhaegal's wings as thick ballista bolts tore holes through its gaping maw. The beast shrieked as it lost altitude, men screaming and running out of the way before the dragon crashed against the wall with a brutal snap.

"FINISH IT OFF! FINISH IT OFF!!!" Joffrey roared as he took a loaded crossbow from a stunned Guardsmen's hands, standing over the crenellations and aiming below. Rhaegal had caved part of the wall they were standing on, one of its wings a mangled wreck and two of its legs broken. The beast seemed dazed, moving its long neck wildly as if trying to get a hold of its caved head.

Joffrey swore as he missed the eye by an inch, crossbowmen leaning on the crenellations and shooting the beast to no effect.

"Sansa! Can you hold it steady for two seconds?!" Joffrey asked her as he took another crossbow from a soldier, the tip of the bolt following the beasts shaking head as it tried to stand up.

"It's in pain… scared… it's mother's call a distant one…" Sansa muttered as she leaned on Joffrey, staring at the beast. She closed her eyes, frowning, "It's hard," she said in anguish, squeezing her eyes as tears descended down her cheeks and Joffrey breathed deeply, the sounds around him dissipating as he aimed his crossbow at the beast's eyes.

Come on Sansa, come on my love, he prayed, white noise enveloping him as Rhaegal almost managed to stand up, its motions interrupted as it turned its long head sideways suddenly, almost brutally, its eye staring directly up at Joffrey for a second.

Chrrick.

The bolt pierced cleanly, even the feathers lodging themselves tight within the beast's skull as it screeched in its death throes. Sansa screamed as she held her own eye, stumbling wildly before Joffrey dropped the crossbow and held her close, trying to soothe her as the door to the tower by their side slammed open and more crossbowmen streamed through.

She couldn't stop trying to feel her left eye with her hands, and Joffrey grabbed them both tightly as he slammed his forehead against hers. "You're here Sansa! You're here!" he shouted in her face, her mad breathing steadying a bit as she blinked repeatedly.

"I--… I'm okay," she croaked, swallowing heavily as she held on to him and the soldier's ragged cheering turned into screams.

"Right above us," she whispered as she blinked, and Joffrey shoved them both through the opened door to the tower by their side, narrowly avoiding the jet of flames that incinerated his soldiers.

"RHAEGAL!!!" screeched a voice outside, followed by a mind numbing roar as the tower itself started to heat up.

"We have to get out of here!" Joffrey shouted as he helped Sansa up, carrying his limping wife as they descended the stairs and the stones around them shimmered. The tower creaked ominously as they tried to reach the lower levels, stones slamming around them as the whole thing tilted sideways slightly. The roaring and the buffeting of sheer fire against the tower turned worse as Joffrey looked up, the whole tower tumbling sideways as streams of fire emerged from sudden holes in the stonework. Bricks flew like shrapnel all around them, one of them hitting him in the forearm before the whole structure came down upon them and he tried to carry Sansa to the door right in front of them-

-: PD :-

…

....

...

His mouth had been overpowered by an ashen taste. It felt dry, painfully so.

Joffrey tried to open his eyes, forcing through the strange lock keeping them closed. He blinked slowly, trying to shake off the cobwebs with one hand before he screamed lowly, biting his lips in pain.

He turned his head slightly and realized he was half buried in stone and bricks, his right forearm clearly fractured. His other arm was buried in debris, along with both his legs and part of his chest. He moved his right arm carefully towards his face, trying to carry his palm closer. He ignored the spikes of pain, finally managing to clear the dirt off his face and getting a somewhat clearer view of his surroundings.

A heavy curtain of ash seemed to have surrounded the outer courtyard and beyond. It stuck to his face, hot and sticky as he moved his head slightly, peering at the desolation around him. Bricks and mortared stone seemed to be everywhere, a few wisps of fire burning here and there around the stables and the Godswood behind Maegor's Holdfast. Whole sections of the Red Keep seemed to have been subjected to dragonfire, half collapsed buildings showing their blackened wooden ribs to the air.

He was surrounded by bodies; armsmen and halberdiers strewn about like discarded toys, their armor a bloody mesh of broken steel. Servants were scattered around the clearing and hanging from windows and crenellations, missing body parts or burnt to a crisp.

Joffrey coughed drily as he tried to move, barely capable of breathing under the weight that covered half his chest.

"Hey Joff," said a weak voice to his right.

Joffrey tilted his head slowly, following the sound.

He swallowed the choking horror in his throat, smiling gently as he found his voice. "Hey Sansa," he whispered slowly, gazing at the broken body of his wife as it lay sideways, only a few meters away.

She was looking at him, half her face burnt away as she blinked lazily with one eye. A third of her bloodied chest lay crushed under stone, both her legs bent at strange, horrific angles that showed bone around the parts that weren't covered in soot black bricks which had once been red.

The bricks must have been scalding hot when they collapsed over her.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it looks," she enunciated slowly, her voice shaky as she blinked slowly.

"Don't worry Sansa, don't worry," Joffrey rasped as he tried to dig himself out of the debris. He shoved against the broken stone, grunting in effort as the weight barely moved. He bellowed in exertion as he tried again, blood running down his right arm as he tried to get himself out of there with all his might.

"Joff… please don't…" she muttered, gazing at him. It seemed the only part of her body she could move was her eye. Darkness was steadily descending around the Red Keep, the eerie silence only punctuated by the occasional swelling of hysteric voices coming from the city, though they grew muted as time passed.

"We're ending it right now Sansa, don't worry," Joffrey promised as he tried to move again, screaming as he willed his body to move. A few of the bricks tumbled down, but he was still trapped tight as he bit his lips, hazy agony seeping through every muscle in his body as something inside his chest snapped. He coughed blood, almost choking on it before he spat the rest.

"Please stop… I don't want to see you suffer like this," Sansa muttered, the angst and the sadness in her voice breaking him as she kept staring.

"Okay, okay," Joffrey managed between heaving breaths, spitting a bit more blood. He closed his eyes as he tried to steady his chest, trying to focus on the depths of his soul and the embodiment of it that was Stars.

Gentle bumping of branches… swirling red leaves… he thought incoherently as he tried to bring the silver lion forth.

He coughed more blood, his head pounding like the Smith's Anvil as he tried again and again, each time less successful than the last until he couldn't even concentrate on his breathing.

"Is… Is there anyone out there?!" Joffrey bellowed weakly, coughing again as the hot ash got into his lungs. "Your liege needs assistance!" he bellowed, his voice breaking halfway, "I know of a secret passageway. I can help you escape- COUGH!" he rattled, sized by a coughing fit as he leaned his head back for a second, taking just a few moments to rest.

He gazed at Sansa, struggling to regain his breath as she looked back. "It'll soon be over love, can't be long now," he said with a weak smile.

"Do you think Bran and Arya… burned?" she asked after a moment of silence, having trouble with the last word.

"They were with Meera by the inner courtyard, lessons…" Joffrey struggled to remember through his hazy memory. "Alyn was with them. Dependable, good head on his shoulders," he said.

"Bran would have wanted to fight, Arya too. They're so brave…" Sansa whispered.

"Alyn wouldn't have allowed it. And Meera knows almost as much as we do about the Red Keep's tunnels-" Joffrey trailed off, a coughing fit interrupting him as he struggled for fresh air. The damned heat was choking him, and he could barely breathe with so much ash in the air.

"Arya hid for a week after she learned about Jon," Sansa whispered. Her eye seemed lost as she gazed at him, "Remember how we found her?" she asked.

"Half-starved and stabbing wooden buckets with that rapier of hers," Joffrey remembered with a grim smile.

"She wanted to go and kill Aegon's Essosi backers…" Sansa whispered. She flinched lightly as she took a deeper breath, coughing gently a couple of times. "We used to fight so much… so stupid… I never… I never told her I loved her…" she said almost reluctantly, as if she were confessing a terrible sin.

Her voice was broken as she stirred lightly, "Do you think she knew? Before she-" she was beginning to sob, blinking rapidly in grief and pain as the stress made her shake slightly, one of the brick tumbling down and bumping the rubble over her chest.

"You'll see her again soon," Joffrey interrupted her, "All of them. Jon, Bran, Ned…" he said as Sansa rode out the harrowing pain of the small impact, squirming gently against the rubble in blind pain. She breathed raggedly once it passed, returning her gaze to him.

"I'm sorry… what did you say?" she asked.

"You'll see them soon, all of them," he repeated.

She smiled at that, "I'll hug her for a whole day, we'll escape Septa Mordane together…" she said wistfully, a trickle of blood running down from the corner of her mouth. "I'll train with Bran… maybe even smuggle… a few lemoncakes… for Jon…" she said mischievously, her words slow.

They stayed quiet for a while longer, night descending on the keep. He stared at Sansa, wriggling slightly within the stonework when her gaze wondered. He couldn't free himself however, no matter how persistent his efforts.

The contingencies were not enough… we should have had four times as much artillery… he thought, enraged. She seemed reasonable back at Quarth… she should have negotiated… he thought in fury and despair.

The Red Keep looked almost like Harrenhal in the darkness, twisted shapes and silhouettes that deepened as the moonless night covered the sky. Joffrey's pounding headache made his mind wander, remembering the time he'd seen the great fortress from a distance. It was a frequent stop in his imaginary journey around the rivers of the Riverlands, calm winds propelling his small yacht with only his wife and maybe a friend or two as company, no worries in the world.

"Joffrey… how much longer… do you think…" Sansa whispered. Joffrey realized she'd been crying quietly for a while now, silencing the agony that he could see written all too clearly on the unburnt half of her face. Joffrey shuddered to imagine the level of distress it must have taken for her to even voice that question.

"Not much longer love, you should be fading in and out of consciousness soon," said Joffrey, his voice thick and raspy, "Too much blood loss. It can't be long now," he said forcefully, grunting as he tried to move again.

"I was so stupid…" she whispered, "I should have sent an assassin for her, we were too confident…" she said in between shakes, her teeth rattling.

"Don't think about that now," Joffrey told her, "Just rest, rest for now," he begged her.

"It's too bloody cold to rest…" she half grumbled, "Half the city burning and I'm so cold," she whispered, disbelief writ clear on her face.

"Look at me Sansa, focus on my voice," said Joffrey, trying to distract her.

Her gaze wandered back to him, slowly focusing on his face. "Tell me that story again… the one about the shadowcat and the Mountains of the Moon…" she whispered as she shivered.

Joffrey wanted nothing more than to make her warm again, to end the pain… but even Brightroar was out of his mind's grasp as he blinked slowly. "Tyrion gave me the idea…" he whispered with a slight smile, "It sounded like a fun challenge, something incredible I could prove myself against… that I was the one in control of my fate…" he said, eyes heavy in recollection. He told her of the intensive training, of the wild drinking competition with the Umbers, of the freezing blizzards and the heart stopping thunders that sought to deafen him as he scurried under caves and overhangs, Fate's fury seeking to cast him down.

He was hallway through his first encounter with the shadowcat when he realized his soul ached. It was a strange, deep sense of hollowness that couldn't be pinpointed, couldn't be expressed verbally. He blinked as he stared at Sansa, the thin trickle of blood still descending from the corner of her mouth and pooling by her side. Her eye was unmoving, her frame still.

Joffrey sighed, leaning back on the stones. He looked at the night sky as he awaited the Purple, looking at the malevolent, vermillion slash that was the Red Comet, its baleful influence flooding the world and the far north with sheer thrumming power.

Always late when expected, always early when not. Truly the Purple is the worst of guests, he thought with a scowl, blinking heavily –impatiently even- until darkness claimed him.

-: PD :-

Something's wrong, was the first he thought he had as he tried to get out of his bed. He could feel two strong arms carrying him, one by each side. He blinked wearily, gazing at the way his legs dragged, listless as they carried him forward. He recognized the decoration of the Red Keep, patterns in the stonework interrupted by the occasional body or piece of broken masonry, his boots drawing a wake in the ash that covered almost the entirety of the floor.

He craned his neck, looking at the soldier that carried him. He was lightly armored, walking with decision but lacking a certain… wakefulness. He didn't look at Joffrey as he strode at the same pace as his companion, the both of them dragging him below broken thresholds and collapsed gates.

Astapori light armor… he thought groggily, Unsullied, he realized as he blinked repeatedly, the orange sun of the late afternoon blinding him for a second before they carried him to another building. He narrowed his eyes, trying to shield them as he surveyed what he realized was his own throne room. A gaping hole had been torn through the western wall; a big, black dragon had made a nest of the broken masonry around it. It screeched hatefully as it saw him approach, and he scowled back at the ugly beast as the unsullied suddenly halted their advance, two thirds of the way to the Iron Throne itself.

Joffrey grunted as he tried to stand up. His stern guards did not react as he found his feet, supporting his own weight as he finally processed the full sight in front of him.

The hall was full of some sort of Essosi irregulars distinct from the far more professional unsullied, wielding mismatched weapons as they cleared the remains of people Joffrey could only assume had been eaten by Drogon, blooded gambesons and heraldry strewn around the floor.

The Iron Throne was flanked by a few Dothraki bloodriders, bloodied arakh's in their hands as they kept watch over the hall. Right beside the Iron Throne was a woman Joffrey could only assume was Daenerys Targeryen… though she seemed… odd.

Her hair was long, reaching past her waist and almost to her legs, the vibrant silver Joffrey had seen in Qarth turned a dull almost-grey. Her nails were long as well, curved things that rattled off the throne as she felt it with her hand, the other arm held close to the chest. She was entranced by the sight of the Iron Throne, almost hypnotized as she rounded it, coming to a stop right in front of it before she finally sat down.

Her face was locked in child-like wonder, awe even. She smiled widely as tears streaked down her cheeks, accommodating herself in the throne as the ever fickle thing stabbed her lightly, tiny rivulets of blood flowing from her arms and back. "I made it…" she whispered in infinite contentment, "Home," she whispered in ecstasy.

"Khaleesi…" muttered a gruff, white haired knight standing a few steps below, watching the blood with worry. The man looked spent, sporting sunken eyes and a wide scar that travelled from the corner of his mouth right to his ear. He looked familiar to Joffrey, faded laugh lines and the strong frame making him think of a certain, mace wielding handmaiden…

"Mormont??" Joffrey asked after a moment, stunned.

Jorah's expression of hollow despair evaporated as the man turned to stare at him, face curdling into distaste. "The Usurper's get is here, Your Grace," he said diffidently, signaling at the unsullied holding him by the arms.

Joffrey bit down a scream as the mechanical soldiers carried him forward, his right forearm and his broken ribs protesting the rough handling as they made him kneel a bit closer to the throne.

"Daenerys…" Joffrey muttered, looking at the woman as the wide smile slowly transformed into pure fury. "What did they do to you..?" he whispered as he gazed at her arm, blackened and rotten. The strange, twisting putrefaction reached just past her shoulder, almost to reaching her neck.

"Oh, you mean this?" she asked him as she looked at the bound arm, "It was a gift from the Warlocks of Qarth. Thought they could kill a dragon with simple poison…" she said as if she were explaining it to a child. "They were wrong," she continued, a sick grin overtaking her as she leaned back on the throne, "Astapor, Yunkai, Qarth, Tolos, New Ghis… I showed them, I showed them all how wrong they were," she said as she bobbed her head.

Surely she isn't… she isn't… Joffrey's mind stuttered at the implications.

"You're insane-" he said before Daenerys exploded.

"BE SILENT!!!" she screeched, Drogon roaring as the unsullied by his side held his broken arm, squeezing it and making him squirm.

"The Keep is secured my queen," said a big, fat warrior of nut-brown skin as he entered through one of the side doors, hefting a big arakh in one hand as he bowed. He threw Lancel's head at the steps of the throne, like a cat carrying tribute. "This one was the false king's cousin. He fought well," he said.

"You son of a whore… you'll die for that," Joffrey promised, enraged.

"Thank you Belwas," Daenerys told him, her expression changing from rage to kindness again within the span of seconds.

"You fool… you idiotic madwoman…" Joffrey muttered, spitting blood as he gazed at Daenerys and then at Ser Jorah. "Do you understand what you've done?!" he asked him, "How could you allow this to happen?!" he spat at him, "Mad Aerys reborn on the Iron Throne!" he roared as the unsullied twisted his arm again.

Ser Jorah said nothing as he stared at him, his uneasy eyes betraying his stern façade.

'Belwas' was less circumspect, walking to Joffrey before planting a fat fist on his belly. Joffrey dry heaved, spitting blood and saliva as Belwas shook his head in contempt.

"And this is the Sunset Land's famed warrior King?" he said in contempt, his low valyrian strangely stilted, speaking as if he were a native Ghiscari speaker.

"That's enough, Brave Belwas. We have matters to attend with the false king," Daenerys said as she gazed at him, smiling wide again. "Madness… such a petty word to describe dragons," she mused thoughtfully, hand twirling one of the Iron Throne's sword pommels. "Maybe I am. Mad. Fitting; for what are dragons if not madness? The power… the majesty… How fitting that mortals should name us mad, for how else could they lay their eyes upon the lords of Fire and Air, and not despair?" she reasoned. "We are the heralds of magic, of power, our rebirth foretold by the very skies…" she said joyfully as she gazed through the giant hole in the room, at the Red Comet shining above.

Joffrey was appalled. "You burned King's Landing, the very city your ancestor built. How-"

"AND I WILL BURN AS MANY I HAVE TO!" she screeched, Drogon growing weary at its mistress' distress. "The Sons of the Harpy! The Warlocks and the Pureborn and the Sorrowful Men! The Iron Legions and their Ghiscari Masters! The Red Priests and their Red Lies and they will all burn until they bow!" she rambled, "I will rule and break the wheel of thrones! I will break the cycle! They won't deny me now. They won't deny my home!" she kept going, growing visibly agitated.

"Khalessi…" Ser Jorah interjected respectfully, "The city is yours and the hour is late, perhaps we should adjourn matters of the court for to-"

"NO!!!" she roared, "They took my brother and my sun-and-stars! They murdered my sweet Missendei! They turned my Daario against me with their lies!" she said in heart wrenching angst, her face returning to satisfaction as Ser Jorah paled and she nodded decisively. "Yes… I shall pass judgment!" she said triumphantly as she leaned back, gazing at her knight.

Ser Jorah grew visibly agitated at that last word, looking behind him at an unsullied standing almost half hidden behind a pillar, some sort of slave commander who looked back at Jorah with the merest of flickers, communicating silently as they stared at each other.

The unsullied commander shook his head slowly, and Ser Jorah sighed minutely. When he turned to look at Joffrey he seemed sorry. "Joffrey Baratheon, you are charged with the crime of high treason. Your vile actions sought to destroy all that was cherished by our Queen, Daenerys Targeryen; Stormborn and Mother, Breaker of Chains, the Undying Dragon, and Scourge of Slaver's Bay," he recited as if from memory, the words curiously familiar to his lips. There was not an inflection or a shred of doubt, as if he were reading from a script.

He'd done this before this day. Many times.

"Feed him to your Drogon my Queen! It has a taste for Lannister's now!" crowed Belwas, gazing at the tattered shreds of red armor amongst the veritable pile around Drogon.

Is that… Joffrey thought as he gazed at the familiar cape.

Tywin Lannister, devoured by a dragon.

There was something absolutely hilarious in that thought, and Joffrey had to bite his tongue. It was his concussion's fault, surely.

"Nono, Brave Belwas. Joffrey is my subject. He needs to be tried first," she scolded the big warrior as if he were a child.

Joffrey snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. This… this was something else. He'd really thought he'd seen it all by this point.

Fuck you all, fuck this, he raged as he chewed something sour. He spat a glob of blood, before giving Daenerys a red smile.

"Piss on your judgment, you crazy bitch! You claim to deliver royal justice?! Fine!" he spat, "I demand that most illustrious of Westerosi legal traditions! Trial-by-Combat!" he called out.

Belwas was already moving to strike him again, but Daenerys stopped him with a word. She was looking at Joffrey, bemused, as if he'd walked right into her trap.

"Very well then," she said with a savage smile, "Then I name Drogon as my champion, the Black Dread Reborn!" she crowed, relishing every moment of it.

Drogon huh? Joffrey thought with a huff, looking at the snarling, ugly beast. Its scales were pitch black and its breath utterly odious. Never thought they'd grow so fast, he thought, remembering the time he'd seen them in Qarth; barely larger than a small dog.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for his coming demise. At least he'd make a show of it… and who knows, he was planning on taking quite a few of the crazy ones with him…

He frowned when nothing happened, the unsullied still holding him as Daenerys kept staring at him with that penetrating, vaguely hollow gaze, her expression slowly morphing into confusion.

Joffrey looked behind him, examining the half opened doors and the ruined masonry, soldiers and cowed servants skittering about and avoiding the gaze of the Dothraki. So, it's already started… he thought, anger growing within him as he imagined the rapine already inflicted on the capital… or whatever survivors were left. He hadn't gotten a good look, and for all he knew his city might have burned to the ground.

Joffrey looked back at Daenerys, the same curious expression on her face. "I'm sorry," he said, looking back again and then to his sides, "Are we waiting for someone? Oooorrr…?" he asked tentatively, gesticulation slowly with his good arm. He realized there were a few nobles by the other side of the room, surrounded by watchful unsullied. They seemed to have been judged worthy enough to avoid death for now, and they all had this respectful posture that tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. He thought he could spy an ashen faced Lord Darry, and a Maergery Tyrell that seemed one step away from crying, for all that her mask of composure sought to show her as a powerful noble in complete command of her faculties. She would have her work cut out for her in this court…

"You will fight against Drogon!" Daenerys declared again, tilting forward on the throne.

"… Yes, you already said that," Joffrey told her, nodding. "I will fight for myself. Not that there's anyone alive to do it for me," he added sardonically, as if he were explaining it to a simpleton. When that was not enough to elicit a reaction, he looked at Ser Jorah in incomprehension. "Is this some sort of Ghiscari ritual or something..?" he asked before trailing off, understanding reaching his mind as a small chuckle tried to emerge from his dry throat.

"Oh! I see… I see…" he said, trying to repress it, "Not the reaction you were expecting huh?" he said in between guffaws.

"You WILL fight Drogon!!!" she screeched.

"Oh no! I'm sorry Good Queen Daenerys!" he called out shrilly, "Please don't let that ugly flying deformity come close to me!" he shouted. "Please don't let it- it- it," he trailed off as he laughed compulsively, holding his belly as his ribs flared in pain. He laughed as Daenerys shook her head in incomprehension, the people around the hall looking at him as if he were the crazy one, "You really think your pet lizard scares me?!" he called out loud, howling in laughter.

"Come on!" he snarled suddenly, the unsullied struggling with his arms as he tried to charge forward, his boots slipping on the ash. "Let's do it! Right here! Right now!" he said, his blood singing.

Ser Jorah frowned, "Khaleesi, Joffrey Baratheon will serve as a fine hostage for now, perhaps-"

"NO!" Daenerys screamed over him, "The Red Comet guided us here, heralding the renewed reign of Fire and Blood! Summoned by the rebirth of the Lords of Air and Fire! It has decreed that fire consumes the Usuerper's spawn-"

"THE RED COMET?!" Joffrey bellowed incoherently, "My, my. What arrogance! That red vessel of power in the sky heralds nothing but death for all life you imbecile!" he roared at her, thoroughly fed up with this stupidity. Whatever sympathy he'd had for Daenerys evaporated as he stared at her like the idiot she was, "The birth of your dumb beasts are nothing more than a fart of cosmic power, feeding off the repository of eldritch horror flying above us," he explained to her, "Do you really think the birth of these glorified reptiles is responsible for the return of ritual magic from Asshai to the North and Beyond?" he shouted, the disbelief too much to be contained. "The shadows thicken under the grey pyramids of dread K'Dath because you hatched Drogon here out of some petty blood sacrifice…?!" he trailed off, shaking his head as he cut himself off. An unnatural silence stretched throughout the throne room, and Joffrey simply laughed again.

"Alright, I'm just wasting my time here. This is what we're going to do," he told her patiently, "I'm going to shove a sword through your pet's eye, then I'll ram it through your chest and pin you to the throne you seem to love so much, understand?" he explained patiently.

Daenerys screeched in disbelief and fury, "DROGON! DRACARYS!!!" she screamed. That got a reaction from the unsullied, their arms growing lax in surprise. Joffrey took that second to slip, rolling on the ground as Drogon roared and bathed the place where he'd been but moments before, burning the unsullied into charred flesh as he dived for the nearby pillar.

His mind hadn't been pummeled enough to forbid his connector, and he roared as he ran from the other side of the pillar, straight towards Drogon as Purple fractals broke into reality and multiplied exponentially, drawing the contours of Brightroar as the dragon reacted by instinct and tried to rake him with a paw.

Joffrey twisted, Brightroar in one hand as the paw almost tore his bad arm. He spun past it, cutting deeply into Drogon's paw and painting the floor with black blood. The dragon screeched in pain and tried to retreat backwards, opening its maw to blast him at point blank range with dragonfire.

"He's undisciplined," Joffrey called out disapprovingly as he moved with him. The colossal beast which had guarded fallen Valyria had been smarter than this, years of life moving it beyond simple instinct. Drogon was pure savagery, and he'd expecting more from a beast bonded to a human.

Whatever the beast had expected, it wasn't this. He closed the distance instead of retreating from the sharp teeth and the ominous orange glow at the back of the beast's throat, slamming Brightroar upwards through the dragon's palate. The Valyrian Steel went upwards with a wet sound, and Daenerys screamed in horror as Drogon convulsed. "Belwas! KILL HIM!" she screeched.

The man moved to comply, but Joffrey was already jumping atop the rearing Drogon, climbing its spikes one handed as the beast tried to spit Brightroar, which he'd left in its mouth. He quickly reached the top of it as it thrashed around the room, barreling over unsullied and panicked servants and guards.

"Watch out Lord Darry!" he called out as the Lord tried to scramble out of the maddened beast's path, getting stomped for his troubles as Maergery screamed and ran in the other direction. "Bad Drogon! No randomly slaying nobles of the realm!" he scolded the beast before materializing Brightroar again and slamming it brutally into its eye from above.

Daenerys gave a harrowing scream as the beast tumbled to the ground, convulsing as Joffrey rolled on the ground, using the momentum of its fall to sprint towards the throne as he spat blood. "Time for the real fury, Targeryen!!!" he roared as he ran, but Belwas intercepted him and tried to cut him in half with that monstrous arakh of his and a bone rattling bellow that left his ears ringing.

Joffrey dodged the blow but the fat warrior followed it up with a bash from his bronze buckler, scattering half a dozen of his teeth all over the ground. He tumbled to the floor and barely rolled out of the way of a stab, coughing blood all over the place as he stood up.

"VISERYON! VISERYOOON!!!" Daenerys screamed like a frightened child as the Dothraki and Ser Jorah stood in front of her, wielding a bastard sword with both hands as Joffrey fainted and went for Belwas' sword arm. The man parried and dodged a second blow, barely avoiding a deep cut on his shoulder. Brightroar licked his scarred chest though, drawing a small wound before the man grabbed a hold of his sword arm and pulled it up with superior strength. Joffrey was breathing harshly as he tried to get his mangled right arm towards his boot and the hidden obsidian dagger within, but Belwas swept up with his arakh, too quickly for him to react. He cut off his sword arm with the brutal swipe, just above the elbow.

Joffrey screamed in agony as he fell on his knees, propelling himself against the man's rotund belly with a headbutt. Belwas tumbled backwards by the force of the surprise attack, and Joffrey sprinted like a bleeding madman past him and towards the screeching Daenerys.

He was almost upon her and Jorah before Viseryon carved a new hole into the throne room, desperately getting its long neck in the way and unleashing a storm of fire at point blank range. Joffrey screamed as he kept running, the remains of his armor and clothes evaporating along with his hair and face as Belwas bellowed in pain behind him, part of the man roasting along with a few more slave guards and unsullied.

Joffrey was propelled backwards by the torrent of flames, crashing against a pillar and shattering what was left of his spine. One of his eyes must have melted because half his vision was gone, and he managed to take in a choking breath of air before he rattled, chuckling drily at the hilarious expression of terror in Daenerys' face.

He tried to get up and murder her, but when he tried to inhale again he found he couldn't, and his head slipped forward as he stared at the floor and Purple tendrils emerged from the masonry, curdling around the stonework's indentations as if it were blood, forming a sea of fractals as they multiplied and enveloped him in pain.

Hey Sansa, he thought as he felt her presence, letting himself be swept by the Purple tide upwards towards her, upwards as the world twisted.

-: PD :-