Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

He gasped, trying to claw his throat, purple filling his entire vision, as his throat crunched and collapsed upon itself. He needed air. He needed air. He NEEDED AIIIIRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP.

I slid down the floor and vomited, the stench of disgusting vile clogging my airways. Taking deep breaths I tried to stand up as someone steadied me…

I had died.

My traitorous uncle had poisoned me in my own wedding! THE FUCKING TRAITOR.

As my mysterius helper took me up, I looked at who he really was. The fucking Hound! Another fucking traitor that had abandoned me in my hour of need. They were specters, coming to torment me in the afterlife! I shoveled him as I run and run and run. I didn't see were I was going until I bursted into the courtyard, were my Father---

What.

My Father was out in the courtyard, mounting his horse, ready to go on one of his stupid hunts.

Beside him were people.. people that should be dead…

There was a small patch of water on the courtyard, probably remnants from some rain. I took steps towards it, hesitantly, until I saw my face in the reflection. I was younger… I …had somehow come back in time…

The reality of the situation was overwhelming.

Then, I started laughing. And laughing. And laughing. I cackled like a maniac in front of the entire courtyard.

I knew what was to come, and the TRAITOURS would fucking PAY!!! I WILL have ALL their HEADS!!!!!!!

Joffrey had been escorted out to his room, despite his strident orders and incessant mewlings, and had finally been sedated by Grand Maester Pycell with milk of the poppy.

When Joffrey had awoken he hadn't been pleased to say the least, but he had decided to bide his time for the day… and plan.

There were two traitors that had ensured the downfall of Joffreys righteous reign. His evil uncle, Tyrion, and the Starks, particularly the wolf barbarian Robb Stark. The Arch-traitor Eddard Stark would die anyway at his command, but Robb Stark had made a mokery of his reign, winning victory after victory against the incompetent commanders of his family. Take those two out, and his Baratheon uncles would waste each other, leaving him to pick apart the winner like last time, and his reign would be unchallenged.

Easy.

But now he had to deal with the closest traitor, the freaking imp.

Plan decided, the next day Joffrey went to Pycell's study and found the doddering fool reading from some parchments. "Grand Maester" He commanded his attention.

Pycell took an eternity lifting his chin to face him "Ahh, My Prince, I trust you are feeling better today?" He asked haltingly and almost in a whisper. How could someone so weak and frail hold the position of Grand Maester?

"Yes yes, but that's not what I'm here for today. You see Pycell, I was reading a story the other day about a man who got poisoned, and I'd like to know the poisons name. Its effects were like having one's throat…" Here Joffrey staggered a bit. "Crushed, it wouldn't let him breath…" Joffrey took some deep breaths before continuing "Do you understand?"

Pycell looked at him vacantly, until he finally nodded. "Aye, It sounds like The Strangler, my prince."

The Strangler.

A shudder crossed Joffrey body. So that was its name… the name of his killer.

"Show it to me" He commanded. If he didn't know any better he would a sworn Pycell was staring at him shrewdly, but the moment passed and his face deflated once more. "Of course my prince" he said as he stood up, went to a nearby cupboard and took out a small vial with a black-prurplish liquid. "This is it. Skilled alchemists in Essos can even make it in a solid, inactive state." He said as he showed him the vial.

Joffrey eyed the vial greedily. But he wouldn't take it now, that would be obvious. "Thank you Maester" He said as he took off, hiding his sadistic grin.

The wait was almost too much for Joffrey, but he made it to the night, savoring the eventual, ironic death of the imp in his mind time and again. Finally at midnight, he got off his bed, still clothed, and took off in direction of the Grand Maester study. His unfaithful hound followed him. He would have ordered him killed already because of his betrayal, if he wasn't so useful as a sworn shield… for now.

They got up to the tower and right to the Maesters study. There was only one problem.

It was locked.

Joffrey gave it a kick with all his force, only for him to rebound off and crash into the floor, clutching his knee and barely managing not to sob. "Hound.. I… Take down the door!" He commanded.

His unfaithful hound looked at him askance. "DO IT! Your Prince commands it!" he commanded once more. He would have the rabid dog flogged if he didn't comply, but that would delay his plans for the imp…

The hound snorted. "Fine, on your head be it." He said, resigned as he shouldered the heavy door. It took 3 times to finally break the lock, and the rightful King was in. Joffrey quickly went to the cupboard Pycell had shown him, and took the flask. "You'll die like you wanted me to, treacherous imp" he muttered as he came down the stairs.

They found two guards jogging up, probably to see what the noise was all about. "Return to your posts" he commanded them. The two guards looked between them, then back to their rightful King. "But m'prince, we heard—" "I COMMAND you get back to your posts! Do I have to flog you to make you understand?!" Joffrey almost yelled at them. The guards seem to look at each other, probably cowering in fear, before excusing themselves and going back down.

Joffrey kept going, straight to the Imp's solar. "Wait outside Hound." He said as he entered without knocking, hoping to startle the traitor.

"Nephew?" asked Tyrion, clearly startled. He was comfortably laying in a long chair in front of his desk, reading a book like always, surrounded by candles and a half full bottle of Dornish red. "Uncle" Said Joffrey, briefly savouring Tyrions surprise before taking a seat opposite to him. Oh if only he knew...

"What can I do for you at this late hour? Shouldn't you be in bed?" Tyrion asked him. Joffrey seethed with anger. He dares to insult his future king!?. He had to take deep breathes again to hold himself in check. Only the prospect of imminent revenge served to sooth him. "I've decided you shall keep me company now, uncle." He told him.

The imp seemed a bit wary at this, eying him carefully. There was a minute or two of uncomfortable silence in which Joffrey twirled his fingers, trying to think something to say. Finally, the imp spoke. "Well then, I guess I better give you a cup, you didn't take it from me though." He said as he refilled both his cup and an empty one.

Perfect.

They drunk from their cups, the silence heavier with each passing moment. Finally Joffrey made his move. "Uncle, what are those books?" He asked him. The imp seemed startled by the question, turning back to his small library behind him. Joffrey fumbled with the vial, trying to leave only a few drops, but his clumsiness ensured the whole contents of it were spilled on the cup. He sat back up quickly. "Well, yes… they are books… where you thinking about one in particular?" asked his uncle as he turned back towards him. "Uhh, No." He said. The imp raised an eyebrow, and grabbed his cup, looking at it curiusly. He then gave him a suspicious look after settling it down. The imp suddenly looked behind Joffrey, "Did you bring more people Nephew?" he asked puzzled.

No no no if someone else came the plan would be ruined! He looked backwards, but spotted no one, the door was still closed. He sighed with relief as he turned back to the imp. "There's no one there uncle, but enough of this!" It was time to end this. "A toast, for the Lannisters!".

The imp was staring at him incredulous, before downing his cup in one fell swoop. "Aye, for the Lannisters… Nephew".

YEEESSS!!! Joffrey downed his cup too, though the wine was remarkably sour for his taste, he couldn't care less, the traitor would die and he would see it with his own eyes. He could already fel the excitement take him, the same kind of excitement that seem to fulfill him, propel him when he dissected small rats, or later when he practiced his aim on the crossbow with the smallfolk.

His uncle was staring at him, bemused. Joffrey let his cruel smile break out as he savored the moment.

The Imp eyed him carefully as Joffrey coughed once, then twice, three times.

"I know this flavor" He thought in mounting horror. He started grasping his throat, trying to get some air, but failing as his throat started to collapse upon itself.

The imp's bemused smirk seemed to seep out of him like rainwater. "Just what the hells were you going to feed me?!" He asked in a panic as he got from his seat.

Joffrey couldn't answer, he slid down his chair, convulsing on the floor, his hands tearing at his throat.

"Oh no oh no oh no" Said Tyrion as he run towards Joffrey grabbing at his throat but clearly not knowing what to do.

"HELP! Someone call the Grand Maester!" Tyrion shouted in a panic.

Joffrey's vision was turning black, but the pain was not like last time, last time when all was near black, the pain had started to fade away… but here it was only growing stronger, it was as if his throat was a snake coiling upon itself, shredding his neck.

The last thing he saw was the hound bursting into the room, trying to help the imp before shaking his head.

"Shit... The Queen will have your head for this, imp."

"But—but—Joffrey was the one ---I--…" The imps panicky defense was the last thing he heard.

Darkness

Purple

Pain

Please… AAAAAIIIIIIRRRRRR

Joffrey had never felt such pain in his life.

Help…