GOT: The Golden Lion

"Haaaah…"

The horde was endless. Joffrey sliced through all that came at him, men or women, anyone with an arakh. Anyone brandishing an arakh fell to his fire-spewing blade. Flesh parted like melted wax, bones snapped like brittle twigs. Every strike was a death sentence.

But for all his fury, the wounds tearing through his body bled freely. A mortal wielding the weapon of legends, he felt the weight of exhaustion clawing at his strength. He couldn't count the number he'd slain; the small mountain of corpses around him spoke volumes—too many to name.

The Dothraki, once stunned and fearful, grew frenzied. Their shock turned to savage bloodlust, and every warrior set their sights on Joffrey. He fought on, but the tide was too great. Slowly, inevitably, the fire in his blade—and in his body—began to falter.

Until the last moment, his arm swung the blade. But before he could realize it, that darkness swept him in its embrace. The clash of steel and the screams around him vanished, swallowed by a sudden, eerie silence.

Rest, at last, his body felt.

But it came at the cost of immense frustration.

What of Daenerys if he was to fall?

####

Daenerys felt as if the earth beneath her was moving. It felt hard to keep balance, her vision blurry, and her insides churning. Panic-stricken, with fear in her heart, she failed to recognize Joffrey as the man swung his blade to protect her.

His regal clothes were drenched red, and his golden hair and pale skin became crimson. Like a demon born from the dead bodies of barbarians, she watched him spew those magical flames. That was magic, she could feel it, and the more she looked at that fire, the more she felt connected to Joffrey.

Before she could realize it, both her hands gently landed on her belly. She could feel it, a life was forming inside. A life connected to her and this man. Why was he fighting so furiously? For her, for the life in her womb?

It made her feel warm like never before. For the first time, valued, desired, and protected for just being her—a living, breathing woman. But was it too late? The horde around was endless.

This was Vaes Dothrak, after all.

Thud!

Was it his blood? Was it their blood? Right in front of her knees, she saw Joffrey collapse, bloodied throughout. Some of that blood splashed onto her as well, leaving her lost and hopeless.

"Nakho! Jin mahrazh here ajjin warthi shi ki yol!"

Just as the horde of Dothraki were about to unleash their fury on Daenerys, a commanding voice roared from behind, stopping them abruptly before a blade could land on her skin. The hoard soon started parting, making way.

The Khal with a long goatee, walked in towards Daenerys, sneering. He stopped close, landing a foot on the back of Joffrey's unconscious, bloodied body while looking down. He spoke in Dothraki.

"You are Daenerys? The bitch who's been burning the Slaver's Bay?"

Calm, with restrained fury in her eyes, Daenerys looked up, tracing the foot on Joffrey's back all the way to his face. "I am—I was… wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo."

To save Joffrey from death, that was the sole thought in her mind. To do so, she used whatever name and means she knew. She hoped that Drogo's name would help.

"Khal Drogo is dead."

"I know. I burned his body." She saw him take a step back. But that wasn't enough to save Joffrey, so she took the refuge of a lie while holding her belly. "His last essence grows in me… which King Joffrey swore to protect to redeem the sins of his father."

Khal Drogo looked down at Joffrey's body with a different flicker in his eyes. He took another step back.

"I didn't know. Forgive me."

"Graaaaw!"

And just then, a roar echoed from the sky. The tiny shadow of the dragon flying in circles was ever present, like Dothraki's doom looming.

"Y… No one will touch you here. And this great warrior will be healed."

Daenerys nodded and slowly rose to her feet. Although still unwell, she pushed herself on. But as she stretched to her full height and saw the wide field of dead bodies around her, her heart shook.

As the scene of his battle and the burning sword flashed in her mind again, she thought of a certain prophecy.

Were their fates connected?

What place did he hold in her future?

I won't forget the blood you spilled for me, Joffrey… even if you're a Baratheon.

####

Now you see why you stand unworthy of my blessing, Prophecy Stealer.

Joffrey woke up to his dark consciousness, to that same old voice of the fire god rambling nonsensically. He groaned, trying to get up and open his eyes. He felt pain across his body, but surprisingly no wounds.

Unable to wield a fraction of my bestowed might. Your weakness will be your plight.

"Yeah, well you're stuck with me now. You can either shut the fuck up or work with me." Joffrey angrily roared and forced his eyes open. "I don't give a damn anymore—I've done more than any king since Aegon… My legacy will be remembered. But if you want your bloody name to spread, you better shut it!"

Every man has a tipping point—a point beyond which he wouldn't take any more bullshit from the other guy. R'hllor just hit that point with Joffrey. The traumatic and painful experience flipped a few levers in the young King's head.

"Now… I better find Daenerys." Joffrey lifted his head and looked around. It resembled some sort of a primitive thatched, wooden building, small from the looks of it. He lay on the bedding made of animal hide. Bare from his chest, his wounds all over the body were tightly wrapped with cloth. But he felt no pain anywhere other than his aching muscles.

He pulled himself off the bedding and looked around in the dim light. Surprisingly, his sword was right there, beside his bed as if he was their esteemed guest and not a wounded prisoner. Or perhaps they just saw him so wounded and didn't see him as a threat.

Clack!

He grabbed the sword, clenching the hilt tightly before stretching his shoulders.

"R'hllor, give me the flames—now. If you want me to preach your name, you'll do it. I'm still the King." Joffrey didn't cower to the fire god anymore. "You want the White Walkers gone? So do I. Keep your rambling to yourself, I don't care about some prophecy or your chosen fucker—I died, I returned, you got me now, that's the end of it. Do whatever you want once it's all over."

Woosh!

Willing to listen, at least.

Joffrey wielded fire on his sword yet again and stormed out of the building, wasting no time to even wear a cloak or tunic. Like one of the savage Dothraki, he jumped at the nearest man with a blade and sliced through.

The surprise didn't last long, but he found advantages too. It was nighttime, and Dothraki men seemed busy drinking or fucking in their little shacks, or right in the open by the fire.

Joffrey didn't bother with them and headed towards the largest building in his sight since a lot of Dothraki were already gathered there for some reason.

"Move out of my way, filth!" Joffrey cursed and cut them apart, but spared the women and children. With a breathless pace, he pushed towards the front of the crowd. "Move!"

A few Dothraki reacted to him and fell to him. A few just died before getting a chance to respond. But as Joffrey came closer to the front, he began to slow down in pure confusion and fear.

Just as all the eyes focused on the large, round structure ahead, he did too—burning in flames, it was tearing apart slowly as the fire grew.

"D… Daenerys is in there?" Joffrey questioned himself in disbelief and dared to walk closer to the burning structure.

Crash!

But before he could reach it, a massive wooden door burned away and fell apart. It was an even greater raging inferno inside, he could see it. No man or woman could survive in there, and if Daenerys was inside…

Is this your doing too, R'hllor?

No voice answered back.

The crowd of Dothraki around the entire building grew even larger as if the entire Vaes Dothrak came to watch. He clenched his burning sword tighter and took another step forward.

Thud!

The second wooden door also fell apart, giving an even clearer look inside. There was nothing but a blaze.

It's fire… you better save me from dying, or your—

Joffrey's thoughts froze mid-speech. He saw a shadow coming forth from the fire. A feminine shadow at that… a shadow of a body he had become so familiar and intimate with.

"Daenerys?"

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