Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

So, after training the caravan moved on, stopped for lunch where the prince dined with his family, then it was on the road again. In the evening the prince would talk with the imp about all manner of things, from books and tactics to rumors and politics. The prince seemed to genuinely enjoy the conversation, mostly letting Tyrion talk but adding insightful comments from time to time. The imp started enjoying it too, after the ice had been broken.

It was by the fifth day of the first week however, that something that was definitely part of "The Plan" occurred. They had passed the Ivy Inn a day before, and the caravan was still somewhat settling itself on its rhythm. Joffrey had not started with training that morning, however.

"Wake up Clegane, we've got a long day before us" he said as he shook the hound awake. Sandor didn't know what hour it was, but the sun wasn't even peeking through the horizon. He rubbed his eyes and almost batted away the Prince when something hot touched his hand. "Calm down Clegane, its just hot tea. He said as he went out of the tent. Clegane just shook his head and gulped the entire burning liquid in one swoop. He was instantly awake.

He followed Joffrey out, were he had already saddled up both their horses. "Mount up and follow me" he said he passed the camp sentries and rode into the night. Cursing, Clegane mounted his horse and bolted after him.

They rode through a small dirt path for a couple of hours before arriving at a sleepy village next to the God's eye lake. Joffrey effortlessly navigated between the alleyways and stopped at the dock, securing his horse and jumping on a nearby row boat. "Come on Clegane! We haven't got all day!... or night… whatever." He said. Sandor just got in as fast as he could, curse the kid.

As soon as he was in they set out, Joffrey manning both paddles. He offered a switch but Joffrey would have none of it. "Clegane, my endurance is so bad that if we had a battle tomorrow I would probably die. So I'll take whatever exercise I can get!" he said with a snort of dark humor.

Against his better wishes, the hound found himself talking "Probably" he said. Joffrey harrumphed "Not probably, definitively". They spent some time like that, rowing in a somewhat companionable silence interspread with small, sarcastic banter. "I guess we are not going fishing. So were exactly are you taking us… Joffrey" (He insisted he called him like that.) "I'm awful at fishing" Joffrey said, shaking his head. "No, we are going to the isle of faces." At that, Clegane remained silent. Why here? As with all questions regarding Strange Joffrey, the questions only led to more questions.

When they made landfall, Joffrey tied the boat to a conveniently placed tree, and set out, Clegane following him.

They found a small dirt trail that let them deeper into the island. With each step Sandor took, the moonlight was harder to see. The foliage seemed to grow from all around them and weirwood trunks the size of horses dotted the pathway, each of them with its own face. Angry, sad, joyful, prideful, scared, happy. All possible human emotions had been painstakingly carved into them, tree after tree, the faces watched them. Sandor suddenly stopped. "Joffrey, we are being followed." He said, his hand slowly finding his way to his swords pommel. Joffrey seemed unconcerned however. "I know" he said as he set out again.

They walked like that for another 10 minutes before they were finally stopped. A group of men was barring the way. They had long wooden staffs and wore ragged cloaks made of leaves. "What do you seek, stranger." Said the one in front. Sandor had been ready to draw his sword by now, but Joffrey put a hand on it and gave him a warning glance. He then took a step forward and nodded towards the speaker. "I am Prince Joffrey of houses Baratheon and Lannister. I come to speak with the keeper." He said.

The men seemed to confer between themselves before they all nodded in unison, and made a tunnel between themselves. "Then go, Prince Joffrey of houses Baratheon and Lannister". The prince didn't wait, with a curt nod a whispered thank you, he was through, Clegane in toe. He almost expected to have to say some bullshit like Sandor of house clegane or something, but without a word he was through.

When they passed the men, they reached a clearing where a monstrous weirwood stood, its face simply indescribable. In front of its face stood a small man, maybe even a boy or a girl. When her face turned to them and caught a stray ray of moonlight, Clegane froze.

It was a girl alright. It was fucking children of the forest. Her features were very rounded, and her eyes were comparatively big and expressive, they stood further apart than a humans.

As Clegane froze, Joffrey kept walking like he was just getting some extra bread from the kitchens. Eventually he stopped at about 7 meters from it. She said something in a raspy language he couldn't understand. He knew it definitely wasn't valyrian or its descendant branches though, that he knew for sure.

He knew he had to stop being surprised, but he coudnt avoid his jaw falling off when Joffrey knelt and said something in the very language the Children had spoken. He said it very slow, it was almost solemn. The Children seemed vaguely surprised when he was done, and she nodded towards the men behind them, who quickly took off in three different directions.

Joffrey and the Children spoke for about half an hour, and then she was gone, calmly walking through the shrubbery and underbrush as it if was nothing. Joffrey then spent some time alone, touching the great heart tree with his bare hand. He seemed to be breathing very slowly, and when he opened his eyes he looked like he had shed a hundred years. He had a relaxed smile as he sat on one of the branches and motioned Clegane to sit with him.

"Did you know that the Greenseers could talk with each other through the heart trees of weirwood forests?" He asked him. Clegane just shook his head "Where you talking with someone right now?" he asked him, willing to believe anything by now. The question seemed to take Joffrey by surprised as he suppressed a snort and a laugh "Unfortunately I'm no Greenseer, Clegane. It would make things much easier though." He said as he looked up towards the first rays of sunlight. "No, I just like the sound of the trees and leaves scuttling about with the wind. The small warmth of the weirwood trunks, the way even the animals of the forest somehow stay quiet around them… I find they help… center me." he closed his eyes then. "The Northmen say you can hear the voices of the old gods near the heart trees. Do you feel them Clegane?" he asked him without looking. Sandor closed his eyes, trying to listen to what the prince had said. The silence was kind of eerie, the way a slow, barely perceptible wind flowed through the clearing, the slow beating of the branches swaying. The weirwood tree branch he sat upon was oddly warm too. The wind sometimes took up speed, sometimes slowed down… it was almost like… someone was…--

A loud thunk snapped him out of his pseudo-trance as he jumped up in alarm, only to find the men from before in three groups, each lowering an old but big, worn looking chest to the ground. Joffrey only opened his eyes once all three chests were on the ground. "Thank you" he told them as they nodded in return and went back to the forest.

Sandor had just had enough. "Joffrey, what the hell did you tell the… Children?!" he asked him with a glare. Joffrey seemed to think for a second or two before he nodded.

He spoke as he stood up and went to the closest chest. "Keeper, I am Joffrey of Clan Lannister. The ancient enemy awakens once more. Keeper, in the name of the realms of men, I ask you to honor the pact."

He stood in front of one of the chests as Sandor cleared his now dry throat. "What enemy?" he managed to get out.

"The White Walkers" he said as he opened the chest. It was full of dragonglass weaponry, carved with the runes of the first men.

-

After three trips, the hound and Joffrey had managed to carry all three chests towards their carriage. Just in time too, the caravan had been ready to go when they arrived with the third chest. When they had just finished loading, Tyrion had come around from behind the carriage, looking at the chests curiously. "Just what did you find in the forest, nephew?" he asked Joffrey. "Dragonglass weaponry capable of killing White Walkers, uncle." He told him as a matter of fact, not missing a beat and not even looking from the ropes he was tying around them. "Ha! I'm sure they'll work on grumpkins and snarks too" Said Tyrion, though the jest sounded a bit shaken to Sandor's ears.

"Not that I could judge" Thought Sandor despairingly as he took a big gulp from his wineskin.

The rest of the Journey North had been quite ordinary compared to that. At one point past Darry Robert had heard rumors of bandits and had taken a full 3 days to "hunt" them down. To his surprise Joffrey had accompanied him the full 3 days, but instead of talking with the king, he constantly looked at his uncle the Kingslayer, as if deciding whether to speak to him or not. In the end there were no bandits, only scared peasants, and the only conversation between the kingslayer and Joffrey was when both of them had been trying to fix the queens carriage, which broke down often.

About three weeks later, they had reached Winterfell.

As soon as Winterfell was within sight, the King and his party broke into a gallop, leaving the Queens wheel house and the rest of the convoy behind. Joffrey took after him in his own horse, Sandor hard behind him. When they reached Winterfells gate King Robert, who was already greeting Lord Stark's household, turned back in surprise. "Ah, and this is my son Joffrey, Ned. Come on boy! This is the man who helped me win the rebellion, show him respect!" Robert bellowed. If Joffrey had offered some of his usual pettiness in that moment Sandor though Robert would have smashed him. He shouldn't had to worry. Clegane had been living more than a month in the constant presence of Strange Joffrey, and he prided in the fact he could discern his expression better than anyone here. What happened next was definitely interesting.

Joffrey got off his horse and greeted Stark, grabbing his forearm and nodding with a deeper respect and admiration he had ever shown his father, or in fact anyone Sandor knew. "Lord Eddard" he said, his voice strange.

Lord Stark had looked a bit nonplussed at this, but greeted him back all the same. Joffrey saluted Lady Stark and then moved down the line of assembled Stark children, greeting each one of them in a different way, noted Clegane. Lord Starks first born, Robb, he shook his hand with respect, briefly exchanging a word or two Sandor couldn't hear from where he was. At the sight of the beautiful redhead however, Joffrey's features lightened up considerably, his smile reaching the relaxed state he had only otherwise seen in the weirwood grove. Lady Sansa was already turning a shade of red that complemented her hair, and it only deepened when Joffrey took her hand and gently kissed it. Lady Sansa seemed ready to faint at this, and fortunately the prince moved on to the next in line. Silly bird, thought Sandor, though Joffrey's expression had been too genuine to be faked, he was sure of that.

The next one was quite curious indeed. Joffrey seemed to eye the smaller girl with a mix of amusement and respect, before quickly taking her hand, kissing it, muttering "Lady Arya" before quickly moving to the next in line. Quite curious.

The smaller kid he mushed his head and told him some kind of jape, which made the little one laugh, Rickon, if Sandor was not mistaken, something about a fleeing animal that just couldn't get it in his head to run in a zig zag pattern.

The other brother, Bran, he greeted amicably enough, with only a flash of …guilt? Lingering in his features before he smoothed his face once again.

The rest of the party was just now reaching the gates. It was going to be a long day, thought Sandor.

The next week in Winterfell was an interesting environment for the study of Strange Joffreyness.

With Lord Stark he frequently discussed about the old gods, sometimes inviting the Imp with him. Though often times Joffrey would walk alone with Lord Stark into the godswood of winterfell, pointing at the branches and speaking solemn words. With Bran and Rickon he didn't interact too much beyond always scolding the first if he saw him climbing, and one time convincing him to let him teach the kid how to use throwing knives instead of continuing on one of his climbs.

The spars in the training yard would often be against Rob or even Lord Starks bastard Jon Snow, who Joffrey frequently insisted accompanied them whenever they did anything. At the feast of the first night Joffrey had remarked aloud that it was strange he couldn't spot Lord Stark's second son, Jon. In the subsequent awkward silence Lady Catelyn had explained he was actually outside, preferring the fresh air. To that Joffrey had exclaimed that Jon must be a damn fool for missing such a great feast, and proceeded to go outside and somehow manhandle the Stark bastard inside, seating him beside him and continue eating and speaking as if nothing had been wrong, mostly talking to Jon about swords. Everyone else had been silent for about ten seconds, after which King Robert had exploded with laughter and shouted "MORE WINE!" after which things continued on as normal and angry Cercei found a kindred soul within angry Catelyn. Sometimes Joffrey collected Tyrion so that Jon and him could both speak to the imp between bouts in the yard. "The Broken Knights" Joffrey called the trio, to his great amusment.

Robb he treated pretty much as Jon but without the closer familiarity. The most interesting ones were the sisters however. Whenever Strange Joffrey started to get too tense, he would walk Sansa through the castle and the forest. Whenever he was with her the relaxed smile from the isle of Faces would return, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and let her do most of the talking, with him gently interrupting from time to time, but mostly just going with the flow.

More questions, par for the course with Strange Joffrey.

Joffrey had made a bold announcement a couple of nights before the caravan was due back south. He had marched up to Lord Stark in the middle of a feast, me and the rest of his retinue carrying the three chests behind us.

"Lord Stark, If I could? This will be short." He said. Lord Stark looked bewildered by the sudden appearance of the chests, but gave the go ahead all the same. The dining hall was quiet as Joffrey projected his voice to carry.

"The men of the Nights Watch and the entire North have for millennia defended the northern frontiers of our 7 kingdoms. It has been a long watch, spanning thousands of years, yet with little gratitude from us Southrons."

He stepped down from the dais and opened one of the chests. "It is because of this, and as a token of my appreciation, and really the appreciation of the whole South, that I'd like to give each Lord and Lady of the North, their sons and daughters, and the men from the Nights watch, a ceremonial dragonglass weapon." There where quiet, if somewhat approving murmurs at this. He continued as he shrewdly took a dragonglass dagger and let it shine beneath the light of the torches. His voice acquired a hard edge, a distinctive force, as he said his last piece. "Legends and Myths tells us these where one of the few weapons that could even hurt the dreaded white walkers, and that means the Watchers and Northmen of the Age of Heroes carried this hallowed blades with them. It would be an honor for all our Kingdoms if they were to return to such ancient tradition."

"Lord Stark, would you accept this gift in the name of the North?" He asked him as sudden silence fell before the great feast.

Lord Stark seemed to have a hard time repressing an approving smile as he stood up and proclaimed in a booming voice "I Lord Eddard Stark, Warden and Lord Paramount of the North, accept this beautiful gift in the name of all Northmen" He solemnly proclaimed.

The crowd in the feasting hall barely waited a second after Lord Eddard accepted before breaking in wild cheers and applaus, mostly from the Northern hosts. All their starks and, really all the inhabitants of Winterfell were applauding madly, most of all little Arya, which, it seemed would now technically own her own dragonglass dagger.

On the southern side, however, the reception was more contested. It was a mix of befuddlement and indifference, with exceptions like King Robert clapping wildly and proudly looking at his son, and Cercei's demure clapping that didn't hide a vaguely disapproving frown.

Sandor just smiled, not even shaking his head, and clapped like any Northman. Being around Strange Joffrey guaranteed you something. You were never bored.

And best of all, Joffrey was to have one of his walks with Lord Stark tomorrow morning, so he wouldn't be needed. He thought about that for a while before downing his ale and shouting for another one.

He shouldn't have bothered, the Northman beside him practically chugged his own ale at Sandor, while heartily palming his back.

Strange Joffrey, never go away.

-

It happened when I least expected it, of course. So many things run like clockwork, time and again, both in Westeros and Essos.

Wildlings were not one of them.

"RAIDERS!!!" Shouted one of the Stark guards before he took an arrow to the throat.

Ned and I had been "scouting" the wolfswood, talking about the old gods how they spoke to one in the heart trees if one just strained to listen. This time Ned had taken me for "the walk" way earlier than usual. Usually, getting Ned to defrost around me was the Others own task, sometimes literally, but in this life, Ned had quickly gotten used to his idea of walking about the wolfswood, trading ideas about ruler ship and duty, stories about the war, tips about raising children. Anything and everything. Mostly though, they walked in silence, playing the game of listening for the sounds of the wildlife, though not their presence, rather, their absence. When the forest was quiet, it usually meant there was a weirwood heart tree nearby. When that happened, they would find it, and try to listen to the old gods. Ned, as always, had found it a good idea and a profound spiritual journey.

They had been alone, save for 3 winterfell men-at-arms and 2 of his redcloak retinue, Barret and Orland. The possibility of a wilding raid this far south had been negligle…

They had stopped, noting the lack of sound. "Must be one nearby" said Ned, quietly as was his want. "I'm not so sure" I said, working through my staggering memories, searching for this location in the wolfswood. We were about 40 minutes walking distance to the north west… past the great tree to the south… then…

I was sure.

There wasn't supposed to be any Heart trees around here.

"RAIDERS!!!" Shouted one of the Stark guards before he took an arrow to the throat.

A chorus of wilding screams erupted all around us as more than a dozen wildings rose from the floor and charged right at us. There was barely time to get our weapons out before they were upon us, and barely any time to think.

"FOR WINTERFELL!!!" Roared Ned, taking out his longsword as he cut down one of the widlings.

"FOR THE LIVING!!!!" I Roared as I took my hand axe and Whitebane, the perfect combination for a wight and White Walker attack. However, they would serve just fine against unarmored wildlings. I quickly gave myself to the frenzy as I parried blows with the long, beautiful valyrian steel dagger that was Whitebane, sometimes even cutting the wildling weapons in half. They never saw the steel axe that cleaved their skulls, so concerned and greedy they were over whitebane's glossy white shine.

For the Living, I thought, amused. I have been fighting the godsdamned white walkers too much time for my sanity. The wild melee quickly sorted itself out, with everyone except Nedd and me dead.

"I think that was the last of them" Said Ned as he took deep breaths, looking shaken. I had been about to respond when I saw an archer behind Ned. "NED WATCH OUT!" I shouted tossing him to the ground at the same time a loud THUNG broke the silence of the forest.

"Ow" I said, dumbly staring at the shaft protruding from my chest. I quickly snapped out of it as the archer took another arrow from the quiver. "No" I said as I grabbed a throwing knife from the only set I was carrying.

The second arrow pinned my hand to my chest, only millimeters away from the throwing knive. "You've got to be kidding me" I muttered. It had to be a lucky shot. I looked back to the archer, he was staring dumbly at me before snapping out of it and going for another arrow. I grunted as I grabbed a throwing knive with my other hand and threw it towards the bastard. He barely managed to fire a third arrow before the knife flew true and took him in the eye.

The third arrow got to me a millisecond after he went down. It impacted with a loud thud, though it curiously didn't hurt as much as the others. Hmm, how about that.

I fell on my knees, my blood pooling around me. I was about to fall chest first on top of the ground when Ned grabbed me. My head felt numb and wobbly, and some strange sort of buzz surrounded my extremities. "Hold on your grace!" said Ned as he slowly reclined me on the ground.

The buzz was now quite loud, though not annoying, more like soothing. "Hold on Prince Joffrey" Ned seemed desperate, he must have figured out the wounds were fatal.

"Oh.. Ned… Must you… always… be so.. for..mal.." I struggled to say. I had to spit the blood that had been blocking my airways to speak well again.

I needed to say something to Ned, something very important… what was it..?

"Ned… Ned… you've been.. like a Father to me" I coughed more blood. The purple would be coming for me soon. I had to be quick, I didn't know why it was so important, but I had to say it. "I.. would have gone insane… if after all this time… you hadn't been there…" the buzz was so loud I couldn't hear his voice anymore. He seemed confused… why? It was all so obvious… "What I'm trying… what … I …loved you like a father that.. unlike him.. you where there… for.... me…..."

Old gods please... old gods please let me die…

There was only darkness, but I could already feel the sour, pungent smell of the Strangler coming for me.

I've paid for my sins a thousand times over… There's nothing else I can do.... I cant beat them…

I started to choke. It was always the same, always the same. I could remember my second life, gods, how stupid and naive I had been…..

Gasping for air in the darkness, I remembered… I remembered my second life.