Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

It was midnight when Joffrey stumbled into the deck of the Jade Dreams, breathing like a man possessed.

The docks never stopped in Volantis, but at this hour there was a general lull in its activity.

"Captain? What's wrong?" said the sailor that was watching the gangplank, hefting his iron cudgel more closely and gazing at the harbor more attentively.

In between breaths, Joffrey managed to speak.

"Everybody here?" he huffed.

"Yes Captain, all the crew is accounted for and sleeping on the ship… I think Duck was the last one that got here, half an hour ago. I guess the lads would have liked to stay a bit longer in the taverns but their way too expensive--"

Joffrey grabbed his shoulder and pushed him towards the deck hatch. "Wake up everyone, we sail in fifteen minutes!" he ordered.

"B-but Captain, its midnight--"

"NOW DAMNIT!" he shouted as he went up to the wheelhouse, where a couple of sailors were looking up from a game of cards illuminated by a small lamp.

"Cut those ropes now! And wake the others! We need--"

Joffrey stopped when he looked at the wide main street that descended to the Docks, and saw a mob barreling through it, armed with more torches than he could count as some of them actually threw them at nearby ships… setting them ablaze.

They must know I'm on a ship… but not which one…

Joffrey dashed to the mainmast and started slamming the warning bell tied to it, tolling it with all his strength.

As sleepy sailors emerged from below, Joffrey bellowed.

"PREPARE TO SET SAIL! ALL HANDS PREPARE TO REPEL BOARDERS!"

The crew sluggishly started to get organized, promptly speeded up by Chief Vaylon, who Joffrey briefed in four words.

"FIERY ZEALOTS. SET SAIL!"

As the noise from the mess on the docks increased, Joffrey could see a small gaggle of terrified, armed sailors from several ships. They were trying to set up a barricade in the docks, to try and stop the mob from continuing through the coastal road burning every ship in its path.

He would have joined them, but he had his hands full on the ship as he aided his crew, cutting ropes and clearing space on the deck, securing the ship for imminent departure.

He could see the barricade putting up a valiant fight, some eight ships behind him, but it was not to last.

Suddenly from within the mob emerged a company of steel clad Fiery Hand Regulars, carrying broad shields and heavy spears with flame shaped tips. The patterns of flames and fire engraved on their armors glittered thanks to the mob's torches, giving the whole unit an otherworldly presence as it crashed against the barricade, the mish mash of sailors positively melting before the armored fire of R'hllor's elite troops.

The Jade Dreams started to sail slowly, so ever slowly out of the dock, more and more sails growing with the force of the wind.

The mob burned 4 more ships before the Jade Dreams left the docks and sailed on to the harbor, which the proud Volantene sailors said you could fit the entirety of Braavos within.

They were picking up speed, but almost crashed against other ships which had made it out. In the docks he could see groups of Tiger Cloaks, Volantis's city watch, emerging from streets and alleys and fighting the mob and the soldiers, all illuminated by multiple conflagrations as burning ships sunk, and the fire started to spread around the dock… it was a madhouse back there.

Joffrey cursed when he saw a trio of galleys emerging from a small private dock, their sails emblazoned with the Fiery Hand, banks of oars frantically rowing in a disorderly manner, trying to reach the Harbor's mouth.

They have ships too?!

Joffrey turned down to the deck and shouted, "Bowmen to the decks! Every man with a bow to the decks, prepare to return fire!" he ordered as he franticly searched for Chief Valyon.

He saw him at the front, hurling piles of rope down a deck hatch. "CHIEF! GET LION'S COCK TO THE FRONT DECK NOW!" he shouted as he turned back to the wheelhouse.

He grabbed Jon Rivers by his shoulder, shouting in his ear. "You get us out of the harbor! Don't stop for anything! If we're rammed we're finished!" he told the helmsman before dashing to the forecastle deck himself.

When he got there he started tossing crates and ropes to the sides, revealing a big wooden pintle mount.

Behind him he heard grunts and curses as the Chief and six other sailors brought up the Cock, a ridiculously named ballista the size of the Mountain that Rides.

They managed to install it on the mount as a couple of sailors went back to get its ammunition, and Joffrey turned on the Chief. "Get me One Eyed Tolleo" he said, cranking and tensing the weapon with the help of the other sailors.

The Chief dashed down as Joffrey looked forward at the Harbor entrance again.

One of the galleys had crashed against a burning ship, and both of them were floundering in the middle of the bay, burning figures leaping from both ships.

The other galley was exchanging arrow fire with two other ships, sailing in circles as flights of red-yellowish blobs sailed through the air between combatants.

The third one coming right at him.

In fact…

Joffrey squinted.

"TAKE COVER!" he shouted as he squeezed himself against the ship's front railing. A few seconds later a flight of arrows peppered the deck and the surrounding water, their shrill shriek intersped with the cries of wounded sailors.

Joffrey rose from the deck and ran to the back railing, looking at the central deck.

"ARCHEEEERS!!! ENEMY SHIP, TWENTY POINTS STARBOARD. NOOK!" he shouted.

The fifteen or so sailors on the deck which had found bows nooked, slightly turning starboard towards the galley as it rowed purposefully towards them, trying to cut them off from the Harbor mouth.

"DRAW!" ordered Joffrey.

The bows were raised at the sky, glistening points shining thanks to the nearby fires.

Joffrey eyed the enemy ship, waiting for the right moment…

"LOOOSE!" he shouted. With dozens of deep thungs, the arrows sped up, curving in the sky before landing on the enemy deck, unleashing screams of pain and agony.

The Chief arrived with One Eyed Tolleo, and they all took cover behind a couple of big, heavy wooden shields the crew had arrayed around the ballista.

"Chief Vaylon, take command of the archers. Tolleo, I need you on the Cock now" he ordered quickly. "At once Captain!" said Chief Valyon as he went down to the central deck, semi crouched as arrows flew by, the ordered volley's from the enemy galley degenerating into free shooting.

Joffrey and Tolleo scurried to the back of the ballista as the two loaders slammed a heavy bolt in.

"Tolleo, we need to disable that Galley's tiller, or its superior speed and maneuverability will work to block us from the Harbor mouth… and probably ram us" he told the one eyed sailor. He had a long grey beard and he was missing quite a few teeth, but he was the best marksman aboard the ship.

"Aye Cap'n, I can' do that" he said as he gazed at the galley rowing closer each time, Joffrey could already see some faces on it.

"… though I can't do it while accounting for the seas Cap'n, i's too dark" he said as he aimed the ballista carefully as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

"I'll tell you when, you just make sure that bolt goes right through the tiller, it's a long shot but I know that if anyone aboard the ship can do it, it's you" Joffrey told him.

He saw the galley bouncing up and down through the sea, the harbor inside Volantis big enough to have waves of its own, and Joffrey saw it.

"NOW!" he shouted. The bolt THUNGED with great force as it flew right at the enemy ship. It impacted on a guard standing next to the tiller, piercing him to the deck.

"LOAD AGAIN!" Joffrey ordered as he and Tolleo cranked the handles, tensing the ballista for another shot. "Two meters to the right Tolleo!" he told the marksman as he kept a watch on the enemy ship.

The arrows were more frequent as they closed with the galley, slamming with unexpected force all around the front deck. "CAP'N!" shouted one of the two loaders at the front. "THERE'S TOO MANY OF--" he stopped as an arrow emerged from his neck, spilling blood everywhere as he tumbled and fell overboard.

"COPPER! LOAD IT NOW! QUICKLY!" he shouted at the remaining sailor. Copper was shaking as he slammed the bolt into the ballista, ducking to the ground and shouting "READY!"

The arrows were raining now, landing everywhere and some of them carrying fire. Joffrey kept staring at the enemy ship, so focused was he on the task that he didn't even feel an arrow that grazed his cheek, spilling more blood into the deck.

Wait… wait… wait…

"NOW!" he shouted.

THUNG!

The bolt flew right into the enemy helmsman. The heavy bolt turned the man's head into red fragments as it continued its flight out into the dark. As the body fell to the deck however, another man quickly took a hold of the tiller.

"SHIT! Half a meter down Tolleo, just half a meter down! We'll only have time for one more before they ram us!" he told the man.

"AYE CAP'N!" said Tolleo as he cranked the handles. Joffrey stood back and shouted at the stern, "HELMSMAN! READY HARD STARBOARD! ON MY MARK!"

"READY HARD STARBOARD, AYE CAPTAIN!" came the voice of Rivers from the helm.

The loader was shaking badly as he grabbed another bolt and stood up, trying to slam it into the maw of the ballista when an arrow emerged from his chest.

He looked at it dumbly as another one emerged from his shoulder, and two more from his belly.

His mouth made a silent 'O' as he crumbled on the deck.

Joffrey leapt over the wooden shield and grabbed the bolt.

He felt a fierce pain on his shoulder as he slammed the bolt home. "READY!" he shouted as he turned back, his arms suddenly weak as he used them to grab a hold of the wooden shield, supporting his weight on them. Another arrow slammed into his leg with a dull thud.

He grunted as he saw the galley practically in front of him, rising with a powerful wave—

"NOW!" he roared as hard as he could, just as an arrow took off a chuck of his ear. Tolleo let loose with the ballista as the Jade Dreams suddenly turned to the right, Rivers shoving his whole body against the wheel.

The bolt pierced the helmsmen through the gut, burying through flesh and wood and pinning the tiller to the ship's own hull. A bunch of nearby red guards jumped on it, trying to turn it so the ship could follow the Jade Dreams sudden evasive maneuver, to no effect. Both ships scraped by, oars shattering, and suddenly they were through. They passed through the harbor entrance just as several steel chains rose from the sea, suspended before the two fortresses on the entrance's sides.

Joffrey walked to the railing that faced the lower central deck.

"Excellent work people, set course for Quarth" he said before he turned and collapsed on the deck.

-.PD.-

He slipped in and out of unconsciousness for days, his eyes sometimes opening to find a caring sailor or Chief Valyon drip feeding him water or broth. When he was awake, Joffrey felt the seas, smooth and calm, punctuated by the comforting sounds of sailors moving or working. Soon he was walking about on the deck, taking back command from Chief Valyon when he felt he'd rested enough. The Chief had been conflicted, he'd thought Joffrey should have rested quite a bit more, arrow wounds were serious stuff… But he'd also been relieved he did not have to command the ship by himself any longer.

Commanding groups of men was a lot like parenting, or at least a lot like what he guessed must be good parenting. He didn't have a lot of experience with that…

A balance between a stern face and discipline when in fault, but still being able to relate to the men and hear them out, even being a helping friend sometimes. Still, by its very nature, to be Captain was a lonely experience, to be set aside from your fellow man and raise to command them… it seemed to erect a barrier between him and them. He was respected, sure, maybe even admired for some of the most crazy cases, but there seemed to be a distance that Joffrey wasn't sure he would be able to cross if he really wanted to, or if he should.

An Iron link for my 'chain' would have been helpful here…

He cursed himself for the umpteenth time for not studying warcraft in the Citadel, he thought that would have definitively been useful in this situation.

King's… well, at least Kings that are not bloodthirsty and imbecilic… they must feel like this all the time, lonely up there on the top. They are the Captains of entire Kingdoms, the distance and the solitude must be a hundred times worst…

He thought it was a bit funny how the more he thought about Kingship the more horrible a prospect he found it.

To think it took me so many lives to understand the curse that throne is… well, even an imbecile can get the point after smashing his head repeatedly against a wall…

He had used his recovery period in an efficient manner, reading and continuing the research he'd started in this life, learning about the humongous Empire of Yi-Ti, some of its costumes and its language.

After months of studying, he felt he grasped the bare, raw fundaments of the language. It had been incredibly hard, a language unlike anything he'd ever learned before. He'd basically memorized what he thought must be all 5 books written on Westeros regarding the 'Eastern Tongue', but he'd seldom listened to it directly beside the handful of times a rare Yi-Tish trader had been visiting the Harbor of one of the Free Cities. His pronunciation must be horrible.

There was no sign of a pursuit from the Fiery Hand. Joffrey thought they must have had their hands full trying to explain that bit of mayhem to the Triarchs, or in the midst of a civil war against them if not.

He used the long days of the Summer Seas to think about Benerro's omens as he manned the ship's wheel, sailing through the smooth ocean towards Quarth.

The man had somehow predicted his demise at his own wedding, something that would have happened at least years from now… something that did happen, in his first life. Joffrey couldn't deny it, he'd seen irrefutable evidence of magic again, predictive magic at that…

Joffrey had been given a rare glimpse of life beyond his first death… and he was glad he'd died before he could witness it. The war deteriorating and expanding, Tyrion executed for his supposed crimes…

A triumphant mockingbird flitting around a green and gold rose… that's what Benerro had said, or close enough…

Baelish… thought Joffrey, shaking his head. Baelish and the Tyrells killed me… Olenna must have been worried I'd mutilate Maergery in our bedding…

What was worst was that Joffrey honestly didn't blame her.

Shit. That explains the poisoned Dornish Red with the letter that killed me around my seventh life or so. Must have been Baelish and Olenna's plan B…

A transparent gambit now that I think about it… but if the court had apparently been so stupid as to believe my uncle, the brightest man on Westeros, had poisoned his nephew in front of a hundred witnesses…

How hard would it have been to wave the spicy Wine and a letter with Oberyn Martell's sincerest congratulations, look saddened and outraged and point the court at Dorne? Mother gets a big, convenient target, the Tyrells get the chance of a lifetime and raze the eternal thorn on their side to the ground, and Baelish…

What does Baelish get out of this, exactly…?

Perhaps a more malleable pawn in the form of Tommen? I had been getting a bit… out of control there, near the end…

He shook his head as the all familiar sense of self-loathing hit him like a tidal wave.

Worrisome implications about plots and Free Will aside, an uncanny fact had startled Joffrey. Benerro hadn't been able to predict anything else but his first life. That was why he'd been so shocked, awed even. He must have been using that skill to guide his life since gods know when, and suddenly not only did it fail him, but it kept failing him again and again. He 'saw' Joffrey stripping Ser Barristan Selmy's cloak, a dishonor to an ancient order and a living legend, at the same time Joffrey was sitting right in front of him, tied to a chair.

To borrow a term from Archmaester Ryam, his visions simply did not compute. It must have been something like dividing by zero, staring at the flames and seeing Joffrey doing something he definitively was not doing. That explains the mounting, despairing frustration as he kept jutting his head deeper and deeper into the flames.

No wonder the man had fainted, Joffrey was surprised his heart hadn't given out… Actually, for all he knew, it did. He never saw him after that.

The crazed actions from the Fiery Hand, the priests and the mob started to make a lot more sense when Joffrey thought of it in that way. They must have seen him as some kind of powerful demon from the seven hells, capable of thwarting the very power of their god. If Benerro did effectively die, that would have left the panicked zealots without a leader, which would make a lot of sense with the way things got out of control in Volantis.

Still…

He didn't know whether R'hllor actually existed or the Red Priests were just using ancient magic's mixed up with mystic mumbo jumbo that sometime along history they started to actually believe in…

Either way was a terrifying prospect.

…Either whatever had him in its claws was powerful enough to transcend the Red Priest's powerful, magical visions, or…

Or The Purple was more powerful than gods…

He'd stood very still at that thought, hands gripping the wheel as hard as they could.

The Cosmos seemed to get even bigger inside Joffrey's head as a strange thrumming resonated within his chest. Bigger and Bigger and Bigger and Bigger--

By the…

"Are you alright, Captain?" asked Dontar, a plucky sailor who often served up top in the mainmast.

Joffrey shook himself as he relaxed the grip on the wheel. "Yes, yes I'm fine, anything up the coast?" he asked him.

"Aye Captain, the Doom is long behind us and I can already see small fishing villages along the Red Waste. They shouldn't be there unless they had-"

"A source of fresh water…" muttered Joffrey. "That must mean we're close to Quarth. Excellent. Find me Chief Valyon and bring him here, if you please" he told Dontar.

"Aye Captain" he said as he went down to the main deck.

We'll resupply at Qarth … then it's one last voyage towards Yin. According to both books and sailors, 'Foreigners' are restricted from entering the Imperial Capital unless 'invited'. 'Invited' meaning a hefty bribe.

And what better bribe than half a cargo hold of Arbor Gold?

And then, I'll have answers.

-.PD.-

The great city of Quarth was protected by three curtain walls, each one higher than the last. Its docks were teeming with ships, usually from one of the three guilds that vied for dominance within the city, manned by all manner of people but predominantly by the Qaathi, the pale, tall and lanky men native to the area.

It was certainly a beauty to behold, and the grand bazaar had been the building that had most impressed Joffrey. A huge market full of trades and goods and a cacophony of colorful birds that flitted above one's head in great cages that hanged from the roof. An old city, a great city, a proud city…

As its inhabitants made sure Joffrey knew that.

"Ah, Prince Joffrey Baratheon, I can't thank you enough for accepting my invitation. To have the son of the current monarch of the Seven Kingdoms in my humble home… ah, forgive me, irony is a gift we seldom get to enjoy here in Quarth" Said Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a pale, tall and bald man with numerous gems incrusted throughout his face.

"And I can't thank you enough for inviting me in the first place" said Joffrey placidly. And I can't stop cursing myself for accepting.

One of the richest man in Qarth stepped to his side and regarded the view from the small balcony, hanging from one end of his 'humble' palace.

"A grand sight, is it not? Surely the most magnificent thing you have ever witnessed, Prince Joffrey?" asked his host.

"Amongst the top five maybe… hmmm no, but it's in the top ten for sure" he told him.

Xaro looked slightly nonplussed at that answer, but promptly smiled. "Come, you are missing the party. There are a lot of people who you should meet" he said.

"Of course!" Joffrey replied with false cheer as he let himself be guided back to the reception. Joffrey could see people all along Xaro's gardens, walking about and talking, eating from small plates that were carried about by slaves.

He rejoined Chief Valyon and Jon Rivers, who had been patiently waiting for him a set of open air stairs.

"Reloaded for another go at it, Captain?" asked his helmsman.

"I guess so, why did I come here in the first place?" he asked them as both men flanked him slightly as he walked back to the reception.

"I think 'Surely the wealthiest amongst the Qaathi know something about Yi-Ti that I don't' were your exact words" Said the Chief.

"Famous last words" muttered Joffrey. "It's not like they don't know, it's just they're so enamored with their own asses that they can't find the time to talk about the filthy savages. They also conveniently ignore the fact that hundreds of years ago this city paid tribute to the Sea-green Emperors of Yi-Ti…"

"Better to make the best of it, Captain. At least we've been having a good time" Said the Chief, practical as always.

"Aye, we even saw a couple Dothraki" said Rivers.

"Dothraki here? You must be mistaken, the people of Qarth detest that plague" said Joffrey.

"I'm sure of it Captain, they were arguing around a peacock statue, probably trying to steal it…" he said, amused.

Joffrey snorted. "Well, I'm sure Xaro wouldn't even notice if they did. He probably has another dozen like it in his basement" he said as he finally reached the gardens, rejoining the conversations.

Beside the high arrogance and pride, he found the Qaathi to be an interesting people to talk with. Despite the occasional culture shock (like Joffrey staring nonstop at the traditional Qarthian dresses which left one of the breasts exposed) he enjoyed exchanging tales of trading routes and strange animals, and against all odds even learned a bit more about Yi-Ti.

Like learning that the bribe for entering the imperial city now barely numbered in the silvers and Joffrey suddenly had half a hold's worth of Arbor Gold and not a clue what to do with it.

He thought not telling the crew about that was a good idea. They were disciplined for a merchant ship, but ignoring the huge temptation under their feet would have been too much even for them.

"Gifts and favors often carry a hidden price Your Grace, I'd be careful of which ones we accept" said a man in the common tongue.

A Westerosi here?

He turned around and saw a blond, somewhat tall knight or lord, armored in half plate and sporting a longsword on his hip, talking to a somewhat petit, white haired girl in a beautiful silken dress.

He certainly wasn't the first Westerosi Lord he'd seen treating a Lyseni prostitute as a literal Queen. They trained them since practically child birth to achieve that result. He was very intrigued though, to be this far away and with such a beautiful Lyseni bedslave… This Lord certainly had a lot of Golden Dragons on his pouch. He definitively fitted in with Xaro's company.

"Hello there! It's strange to meet another Westerosi this far from the Seven Kingdoms" he told the Lord.

The man looked at him in surprise before his gaze turned thoughtful, though Joffrey didn't miss the hand slowly moving towards the sword's pommel. A cautious one.

"Likewise. A pleasure to meet you…?" he asked tentatively.

"Joffrey, I captain the Jade Dreams, fastest of the Fast Traders" he said with a smile. It was nice to have a casual conversation with an unknown noble met by chance, out here in the ends of the world. From the distance Joffrey regarded Westeros with a very slight nostalgia, though fortunately he was immediately cured of it every time he woke up there again.

"And you? Lord…?" he asked.

"Ser Jorah, Ser Jorah Mormont" corrected the man as the Lyseni whore turned around from a conversation to his side at the mention of ships. "And this is Queen Daenerys--"

"Wait, Mormont? Related to the Jeor Mormont?" he asked suddenly, startled by the sudden coincidence.

Ser Jorah looked a bit angry at the interruption, but surprised at the unexpected connection. "Yes, he's my father" he blurted.

"Wow, fate huh? I met him a few years ago, truly a man worthy of respect. He ran the Night's Watch like a tight ship even with the meager resources at his disposal" Joffrey said, eyes heavy with the fog of memory.

"You mentioned a ship, young ser? A ship to Westeros?" asked the Lyseni bedslave, not bothered by her interrupted introduction. Though now that he thought about it he didn't see a slave collar around her neck.

Ser Jorah must have bought her and set her free. Uncommon, but not an altogether rare occurrence for her kind…

He was happy for her, Joffrey thought Lyseni bed slaves had a higher than normal chance of gaining their freedom, though the cost of one was a Lord's ransom by itself, assuming the owner wanted to sell them anyway… and they rarely did.

"Not a Ser, just Joffrey please, or better yet, call me Joff." He said as he smiled good naturedly, the wine he'd drunk and the company raising his mood. "This is Chief Valyon and Helmsman Rivers" he said, pointing to the two men. "I'm afraid we're not bound for Westeros. We're sailing for the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti, chasing ancient clues and magical mysteries…" he trailed off as he saw Jorah frowning hard, as if trying to remember something.

The slave (or former slave) looked surprised by that answer, and maybe even a bit wistful before some kind of inner determination smothered it, and she was suddenly serious.

Godsdamnit, what was her name? Something very Valyrian sounding… Dorea… Daena…

"I see… maybe you should visit us again during your stay here. We are starved for information on my homeland, as you would guess" she said with a sad, cute smile.

Damn, I can see why Ser Jorah sold whatever he sold to buy you out…

Wait, homeland? She considers herself Westerosi…?

"Ah, uhm. My apologies, I thought you'd been born on Lys?" he asked tentatively.

She looked very confused at that question "Excuse me? Lys? I'm afraid I've never been to that city…" she said but Joffrey couldn't hear her as the pieces suddenly clicked inside his head.

"Ah, my apologies…" he scrambled, trying to think what to say.

"Your mother must have been very beautiful for Ser Jorah to have strived for her liberation" he said lamely, head palming himself inside his mind.

Father and Daughter! It had been obvious….

She looked even more confused and a bit irritated, but Ser Jorah was so red Joffrey was afraid he was going to explode.

"You suggest your Queen… is a bastard born… out of a Lyseni whore?!" Ser Jorah stuttered, his rage barely contained by a calming hand from the… Queen? Joffrey felt that one more wrong word and the swords would come out. Behind Ser Jorah he could actually see a couple of Dothraki, looking menacing with their hands on their arahks.

Holy shit, Rivers was not bullshitting me…

Okay Joffrey, time for a tactical retreat…

"Please forgive any insult, I'm afraid I'm terribly confused--"

"Ahh, Queen Daenerys! I see you have met your rival!" Said Xaro out of nowhere, his tone one of infinite amusement. "The Prince Joffrey--"

"Baratheon, son of King Robert and heir to the Seven Kingdoms!" roared Ser Jorah in sudden recognition, taking out his long sword, quickly followed by the Dothraki and their arahks.

Joffrey took out his own arming sword, swiftly followed by the Chief's axe and Rivers's cudgel. The garden was suddenly very quiet as the Qaathi worthies struggled between clustering closer to better see the delightful turn of events or run in fear of a sudden fight.

Ser Jorah looked formidable in his half plate, face red with anger and shock as he pushed Daenerys to his back with his other hand.

"Daenerys? Daenerys Targeryen!?" Joffrey asked out loud in shock.

"Indeed!" boomed Xaro. "The two contenders for the iron throne, thrown by fate at my doorstep! What a time to live in, no?" he asked with a beatific smile.

"So the Usurper sent his own son instead of his dogs to assassinate me? At least he does his own dirty work!" Said Daenerys, as she struggled against the arm of Ser Jorah.

"Assassinate you? I didn't even know you were in-"

"Lies!" roared Ser Jorah. "King Robert knows exactly where we are, do you think we're stupid?!"

Without the restraining hand of Daenerys, Ser Jorah was a second away from attacking him. The previously moderating influence of his queen was there no longer… she looking at Joffrey in anger and some kind of strange, indescribable hate that sent a shiver down his spine.

Joffrey was already visualizing the swift twirl and neck stab he was going to try and deliver on Ser Jorah when a deep voice interrupted.

"Please! What a shame it would be if two such wonderful individuals spilt their blood in our fair city…"

Joffrey risked a quick glance to his left and saw a tall, incredibly pale man with huge dark eye bags. His neck was stretched by strange copper rings, and he seemed to regard them both with joy and…

Lust?!

"You are truly a terrible Host, merchant prince" He said as he walked towards them.

"Pyat Pree" Xaro almost said the name as a curse. "No blood would have been spilt here, this is just the way of the Westerosi, a mere bragging of swords…"

Pyat Pree walked in between the drawn swords, slowly shaking his head. "To waste such valuable blood in our city would be a great disservice" he said, placing an odd inflection on blood.

Ser Jorah slowly lowered his sword as he gave another step back and Pyat Pree kept talking, "I once spoke to the fair Dragon Queen about Saathos the Wise…" he continued as he turned and looked at Joffrey, who still hadn't lowered his sword.

"Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or ever will be. It is the center of the world, the gate between north and south, the bridge between east and west, ancient beyond memory of man and so magnificent that Saathos the Wise put out his eyes after gazing upon Qarth for the first time, because he knew that all he saw thereafter should look squalid and ugly by comparison" he said the line as if it were the 'truth' of the Seven Pointed Star. "Surely to spill it with blood, however righteous your cause, would be an indignity?" he asked Joffrey, grandly.

Joffrey snorted as he sheathed his sword, "Then Saathos the Wise was an ignorant fool. Someone should have gotten him a far-eye and a clear sky" he said he took a couple of steps back.

"Come on, let's get back to the ship" he told Chief Valyon and Rivers as they too sheathed and they followed him out.

"You should come to the House of the Undying, Your Grace. We have many truths and wisdoms to share…" said Pyat from behind him, thought he didn't know if he was talking to him or to Deanerys.

"And for you, young Joffrey" suddenly said Pyat, right to his left as if he'd somehow doubled. "We have many secrets and omens… omens written in bones and tablets…" Pyat trailed off as he walked behind a pillar and didn't emerge from the other side.

What!?

But he was gone, along with the... other him that had been standing by Daenerys.

Joffrey shook his head as he kept walking fast towards the dock.

-.PD.-

"What do you really know?" whispered a voice in his ear.

"I…I…" Joffrey mumbled, gazing at his hands in confusion.

"Some things weren't meant to be known… some knowledge was not meant to be…" whispered the voice.

"But I … I was…" Joffrey muttered in panic, frowning hard as he looked at his hands in despair.

I know…. I …

Who…

Who am I?

Who am I!?

WHO AM I!?

Joffrey bolted from his hummock, almost crashing against the deck. It was only when he had his breathing under control that he took the wineskin on his tall nightstand.

Joffrey cursed the Warlocks of Qarth one more time as he doused himself with a bucket of water and left his cabin, nodding at various groups of sailors, either working or relaxing.

They can't just say that and leave me like that…

Qarth had certainly become an unexpected stop. He'd been thinking for days about going to the tower were the both feared and ridiculed Warlocks of Qarth made their home, but he kept delaying. The gut wrenching nightmares that had started after the Hightower and increased after Volantis now plagued him almost every night, and he was starting to dread what he'd find if he visited the House of the Undying Ones.

He shook his head as he walked through the Bazaar, buying the occasional strange fruit and sightseeing at the groups of people from around the world that toured around it.

I should be on my way to Yin by now… damned Warlocks…

And to think I confused Daenerys freaking Targeryen first for a Lyseni whore and then for bastard born out of one…

He shook his head harder as he imagined Tyrion laughing his ass off, pumping ten digits into the air.

Definitively ten out of ten. He thought in unwilling amusement.

He was very surprised when he saw her again, this time from afar, browsing through stands and looking up in wonder at the colorful birds. By her side was Ser Jorah and another Dothraki, ever watchful of possible thieves or assassins.

Joffrey decided to approach them, so curious he was of the Queen in exile. What did she want? How did she manage to ally with those fiery maniacs? And why was everyone talking about the godsdamned three dragons?

Have you heard about the Three dragons! The Three dragons! Three dragons has the mother!

He suspected it had something to do with the Targeryen heraldry, it sported three dragon heads after all, but his Qaathi was frankly miserable and he got one word in 10 when someone did not humor him with Valyrian.

As soon as Ser Jorah saw him they all tensed, but Joffrey kept walking towards them as he nodded.

"Queen Daenerys, Ser Jorah" he greeted.

"What do you want?" Ser Jorah immediately demanded, though some of his anger dissipated as he processes how Joffrey had called his Liege Lady.

"We do not need your presence… I do not know what you are truly doing here, but if you have come to boast of your hold on the throne, then you better spend your time elsewhere!" Said Daenerys, trying very hard to sound Queenly and frankly overdoing it.

Joffrey couldn't contain the burst of laughter that assaulted him, and Ser Jorah was looking like he was going to cut him down for real this time as Joffrey hurriedly shook his hands "Your battle is not with me, Your Highness. I renounced my claim to the throne the day King Robert died, I've been sailing through the Summer Sea since then" he told them.

Joffrey thought he could have brained them with a brick and they wouldn't have looked more stunned.

"What!?" they both blurted out at the same time.

"It's true" he said as he took a bite from a red pear, savoring the juice with relish. He had really started to appreciate food after lives of starvation climbing or months at sea eating hard tack or fish… or worse, whales.

"I already told you what I'm after, but I'm curious about what you want? Just with the gifts I saw people showering at you the other day, I think you could manage to buy a ship and sail wherever you wanted to, maybe even buy a comfortable manse… not here though. Myr maybe, or Volantis, they seem to like you there…" he mused, his mouth half filled with fruit bits. His manners had somewhat deteriorated after… well, after everything.

The last he'd heard about Daenerys that he remembered in his first life had been something about Khal's and hordes of Dothraki screamers… he wondered what happened with that…

Both of them regarded him with confusion before Daenerys blurted. "To take back the Iron Throne from the usurper, of course!" she said as if it were obvious.

Joffrey choked on a piece of redpear, coughing and coughing as Ser Jorah awkwardly patted him in the back, once.

"You're serious?!" he managed in between breaths.

Her expression turned angry, and Joffrey could again see something—

"You think I can't take back the throne my family built?! That I can't…"

She trailed off as Joffrey waved her off with one hand, the other containing his mouth and the bits of fleshy pear that kept coming out of his throat.

He took a breath after a final cough as he stood up. "Daenerys, Queen Daenerys, whatever you want to call yourself, if you want that ugly lump of iron, you can have it!" he said, snorting. "That thing only brings pain and misery, you're more than welcome to go and take it, though you'll have to face the other five idiots standing in the way" he said.

"You just gave up on the throne?... and the Usurper is dead?" she asked him, unwilling to believe it. "Yes, Robert is dead… And I'm telling you, it's not worth it. You can ask my crew, or Xaro I guess. He must have spies everywhere if he's so successful as a trader…" Joffrey said.

Daenerys stared at him in incomprehension, gears grinding inside her head before she nodded. "Would you like to accompany us back to Xaro's palace?" she asked him, her eyes calculating. "Your Grace, for all we know he could be-" Started Mormont, but she interrupted him. "I believe him, Ser Jorah… besides, I think I can dissuade him if he has dishonorable intentions…" she said as she started walking in the other direction

Joffrey thought about it. He was fairly certain he could escape if they tried an ambush, and from what he'd seen she didn't have an awful lot of Dothrakis around her. Besides, the curiosity was almost killing him.

Wonder how she got a hold of a dozen do… ah, wasn't she sold to some horse lord by… Viserys, was it? Better not to ask, Ser Jorah is going to break his fingers if he keeps squeezing his pommel like that.

They walked out of the Bazaar, in direction of Xaro's palace. Joffrey nodded at Daenerys's questions, she seemed to have become intent on pumping him dry of information. He didn't care, in fact he was enjoying their reactions. "Yep, five of them. First there's Renly Baratheon, an incompetent fool with dangerous charisma, backed to the hilt by the Tyrells, hehe… Then there's his brother Stannis himself, Renly's polar opposite. As relatable as a stick but dangerously competent, and a powerful sorcerer to boot… " he numbered them with his hand. "Then there's the Lannisters, my family. They've probably crowned Tommen by now, he's a sweet boy of 12 or so by now I think, so you shouldn't hate him as much as you seem to… Though you should beware my grandfather Tywin, he'll absolutely destroy you if he catches you off-guard… Then, there's Robb, acclaimed as King in the North by his Lords. A tactical genius but a terrible strategist, he'll get himself killed if you just wait… as long as you don't… well, it's complicated…" he trailed off as they reached the palace.

Their expressions seemed to vary from disbelieving to confused to flabbergasted at his antics. Joffrey was himself immensely entertained. "Last and certainly least, is Balon Greyjoy. He failed to gain his independence during Robert's reign, and decided he'll enjoy a few years of absolute freedom now before whoever wins the godsforsaken game finally gets around to smacking him down and razing the Iron Islands to the bedrock…" he said as they entered the whole wing that Xaro Xhoan Daxos had cleared for her use.

She seemed a bit shaken as she digested that. "Five Kings…" she whispered…

They walked for a bit as they kept talking, and he could tell that Daenerys was appraising him. Whatever her verdict eventually was, he was certain she did not consider him an imminent threat at least. She seemed to arrive to a conclusion, and guided him to a specific chamber.

"Those seem like terrible challenges…" she said as she eyed Joffrey's amused smirk and she walked towards some cages covered with a big blanket.

"But… I don't know how you hadn't heard… I have Dragons" she said as she lifted the blanket and three fucking miniature dragons shrieked from within the cages.

Joffrey gave a scream as he jumped backwards, looking at them with a mix of horror and fascination.

"By the God!!!" he shouted, using a nearby wall for support, not believing his eyes.

Daenerys smiled as she let Joffrey slowly walk nearer them. They shrieked at him from their cages, looking for all the world like they'd prefer nothing else but to tear him to pieces.

"And this things will grow to be the size of the Black Dread?!" he asked, shocked to the core.

"They will" she said as the something returned to her eyes. "And I will take what is mine, by fire and blood, be it from one king or five…"

Joffrey shivered a bit he remembered the stories about the Mad King for some reason.

By the gods… imagine what the Mad King would have done with Dragons…

But she's not like him.

She's not like him.

"By the Gods… Damn… Westeros is so fucked…" he muttered to himself.

He looked at her in a new light. "You do realize the Realm will fall apart if you invade with dragons… after all those wars… and then another Conquest… shit, the smallfolk will rise and murder the Lords in their beds…"

"Or force them to bow to their rightful Queen" said Ser Jorah, thoughtful.

"I guess… Still, after that much bloodshed for the throne, whatever faction that survived is not going to just hand it over, you'll have to stage a repeat of the Fields of Fire, or maybe two" Joffrey said, looking at the prospective queen.

She looked conflicted, "They won't be so dumb, the Kingdoms bowed to the dragons once, they'll do it again after seeing mine…" she said.

"You give them far too much credit" Joffrey said as he approached them again and kneeled, gazing at the little vicious beasts closer. "And your Father did not exactly leave the throne and your family with a good reputation…"

These little buggers will grow to the size of villages and burn what's left of the Seven Kingdoms to ash… if her fanatic flame followers don't burn it first.

He shook his head as he stood back.

Dragons… and the Mad King's daughter hell bent on revenge in command of them…

A lot of people are going to die, burnt to a crisp. And though I'd love to see some of their faces as their whole game collapsed in on themselves in fire and blood…

I can't say the same for all the other ones. Gods… all the people who are already dead or will in the future… how many deserted farmsteads will the War of the Five Kings and one Queen leave? How many empty keeps? How many burnt fields and ghost towns… And what if another plague comes swooping in right behind Daenerys as they often do after great wars?

The image of a deserted King's Landing sent a shiver down his spine, the carts full of bodies, no one left to burn them outside the city walls. The streets empty and eerily silent…

How much knowledge will be lost?

He imagined groups of starved people burning books at the Citadel for warmth.

And we're closing in on winter, it can't be much longer now… this has been the longest summer in living memory…

The Seven Kingdoms were very definitely screwed. Joffrey thought civilization itself might collapse if things turned for the worse… something that was basically a staple of the continent…

It was a difficult thought to contemplate, but history was clear… Such things did happen… and calamities had a tendency to snowball. What's to say something worse didn't follow the hypothetical plague, maybe an invasion by a restored Three Sisters smelling blood, or hells, why not a huge invasion force from Beyond-the-Wall. The wildlings had been awfully quiet for decades now… centuries even… and there had been rumblings before he died in his first life…

What a fucked up world… he thought.

"Are you alright?" asked Daenerys.

Joffrey nodded. "I'm okay, it's just…" what… please spare my uncle Tyrion? The Starks are good people, please don't burn them…?

"Nothing" he said as he let out a breath.

He sighted as a black mood descended upon him. Should have continued on to Yi-Ti…

-.PD.-

He became a somewhat regular visitor to Daenerys's wing, to his own surprise. It was fascinating to talk with her and see in some kind of slow motion how the Doom approached Westeros. When the Dragons grew and she somehow got an army (or linked up with the one waiting for her in Volantis… which she didn't know about, apparently) it would be reckoning time for Westeros. She was completely naïve about what ruling entailed, what the game did to people. Joffrey thought one of three things would happen once she took the Red Keep. One possibility was that she learned and triumphed over them all…

Another one, and the most likely if Joffrey hazarded a guess, was that she got outmaneuvered and betrayed in the game, probably assassinated in some way. Leaving the dragons without a master and a huge power vacuum because half of the remaining player would be roasted meat by then.

The third…

The third was that the game broke her…

And Aerys the second was reborn, this time with Dragons at his beck and call…

If suddenly I woke up and I knew that life would be my last, I'd grab Tyrion, Jon, Sandor and Sansa, ransack the treasury and get lost in the Summer Islands.

Still, he thought his conversations with Daenerys posed some interesting questions for her, questions that would hopefully make her… reconsider her ill-advised course of action.

She seemed pretty determined though.

-.PD.-

Things had been relatively quiet in Qarth when things suddenly went to the hells in typical Westerosi… (or should he say Planetosi by now?) fashion.

Better to go into a Warlock's nest with company rather than alone, right?

He was trying to be positive again, the world needed it.

He looked to his right, eying Daenerys past the glare of her torch. She looked calm and determined, a far cry from when this had all started. He still remembered the despair in her eyes…

"WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS!?" she had screamed as Joffrey saw the something in her eyes again, that time at full power.

"WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS!?!?" she had shrieked as she tore into the wing, tossing baggage and furniture aside.

Turns out the Warlocks coveted the dragons, who could have known?

And I don't think they'd be more responsible with the flying firestorms than Daenerys…

It turns the Warlocks coveted his Whalebone tablet as well. They'd somehow stolen it from his ship while he'd been walking around the Bazaar with Daenerys. It had served to narrow down the suspects though, Joffrey thought Daenerys would have been walking in circles around the city for weeks searching for them if he hadn't simply pointed towards the North East.

And now here they were, walking through the house of the undying trying to get their things back from the bunch of mystical thieves.

Joffrey looked back, wary at the darkness. When he looked in front of him, he realized Daenerys was gone.

Great…

He walked through a set of staircases, and promptly turned into a scene from the hells. Catapult fire rained from above as King's Landing's defenders tried to resist Stannis's wrath. Nothing stopped his troops, arrows and boiling oil and stones merely delayed them, and the gates were about to fall. Joffrey saw himself fleeing to the Red Keep, leaving the soldiers fighting for him to face the onslaught alone.

He saw the Imp rallying the men.

"They say I'm half a man, then what does that make you!?" he berated them as some of them started to flee.

Joffrey kept walking, seeing scenes from his first life, and events he definitively was not there for. He saw the death of the Young Wolf and the slaying of Renly by Stannis in his shadow form. He saw his death in his own wedding, choking as her mother screeched at Tyrion and 'uncle' Jaime shook him in despair.

I didn't remember him before it all went black… at least he cared in the end…

He waited in anticipation, waiting for any clue of the purple, almost begging that the Warlocks had some sort of knowledge or explanation about what was happening to him.

…

Nothing.

The visions slowly twirled into nothing, the last thing to disappear being his purple, swollen face, and Joffrey was back again in the corridor.

"You think I'm impressed?!" he suddenly shouted. "Show me something I don't know or stop wasting my time!"

"GIVE ME ANSWERS!!!" he shouted in vague despair.

Only silence greeted him.

Joffrey roared as he slammed his fist against a wall in anger. The Warlocks said one must always follow the door to the right… He thought it was stupidity to follow your enemies' instructions when you were invading their stronghold.

Soon enough he saw a hallway to his right, which led to a small stone table perfectly made to hold something like, say, Dragons. Or a tablet.

Nope. Not falling for that.

He kept going forward, occasionally turning as he concentrated on the tablet, feeling it and letting his feet be guided like a ship following the Hightower…

Until he was suddenly on a black study, lit by…

Are those glass candles?!

They shone with a strange, unpleasant light that distorted all the other colors, giving an otherworldly glow to the Warlock which was bent over a table, intently gazing at the tablet.

He was muttering in a panic, grabbing it and immediately dropping it back on the table, as if he didn't know what to do with it. "Never seen… no…no… the sheer power complexity… how… " muttered the Warlock.

When he suddenly looked up and saw Joffrey, sword in hand and distorted by the strange light, the Warlock stumbled backwards. "No! Please! We didn't know! Tell the Emperor we'd never…! We'd Never!!!" he shrieked as he stumbled back onto a corner.

Joffrey followed him to the corner, shouting. "You'd never what?! What Emperor!?" he asked him as he waved his sword threateningly at him.

Each step he got closer to the Warlock, and the closer he got to him the more the man screamed for forgiveness. By the time he stood in front of him, the Warlock had lost his mind, crying and screaming and peeing himself.

Suddenly he jumped at him like a wild cat, screaming in despair with a dagger in his hand. Joffrey parried the clumsy strike and severed the man's spine in the counterblow.

The Warlock crashed against the floor, his blood pooling around him.

What the hell is wrong with him!?

As he advanced upon the fallen man, the Warlock screamed as he looked not at his sword hand, but at his empty fist.

"NOT THE SILENCE! PLEASE NO!" he screamed as he grabbed a hold of his dagger and stabbed himself in the neck.

He kept stabbing as long as he could, all of 4 seconds until his arm fell to the ground, limp.

…

Joffrey was shaken.

Shaken and scared.

-.PD.-

When he stumbled outside, he found Daenerys, nursing her three dragons like a doting mother, feeding them charred meat as Ser Jorah nodded warily at him.

"Did you find what they stole from you?" she asked him, her face exhausted but satisfied.

"Yeah… did you find Pyat Pree inside?" Joffrey said.

"Yes… He's naught but ash and bone now…" she responded.

Joffrey shivered.

She's not like him.

He shook his head.

"Well Daenerys Stormborn. It's certainly been interesting, but I've delayed too much already. I must continue on to Yi-Ti" he told her, thinking about what the crazed Warlock had said…

The fact that I was the tablet's owner turned a feared mage into a squealing infant…

Joffrey felt ominous shivers run through his back as he closed his eyes.

He was afraid, a deep vacuum warbling inside his belly as his hands trembled slightly.

"What is it that you are searching with such passion, Joffrey? What do you want with such zeal that you'd forsake a throne to find it?" Daenerys suddenly asked, as if the question had been gestating for a while now in her head.

Joffrey stilled the shivers, resolve hardening inside him as he opened his pale green eyes.

"Answers" he said.

-.PD.-

They said the Jade Sea was a beautiful, frequently calm sea whose waters serenely cooled men's minds and brought forth dreams of joy and enlightenment.

Joffrey didn't know whether to laugh in gut wrenching amusement at that memory or curl up into a ball and cry.

"SECURE THAT SAIL! SHE'LL DRAG US DOWN! MOVE DAMN YOU, MOVE!" Joffrey roared as he struggled with the wheel, trying to keep it from turning with all his strength along with Jon.

The Helmsman was only using one arm however, the other dangled by, broken and useless. Sailors cursed and screamed as they pulled a piece of rope behind him, trying and failing to take down the wildly flapping Rear Spanker.

Joffrey had few times in his life seen a storm so powerful. The wind was so fast the fancy anemometer he had designed and installed had been taken wholesale along with the top half of the main mast, hurled into the seas by the very thing it had been designed to measure.

The pounding rain was like a physical slog, slowing movement in the deck and chilling everyone to their bones.

"CAPTAIN!" shouted the Chief as he appeared from a hatch behind him. "THE LOWER DECK IS FLOODED! WE NEED MORE MEN ON THE PUMPS!" he shouted as hard as he could, the wind and the rain reducing his roar so much that Joffrey had to strain himself to hear him.

Joffrey let himself be relieved from the wheel by another two sailors, and he stumbled over the upper aft deck towards the central railing. The seas were so shaken up that Joffrey swore he could see waves the size of the Hightower in the distance, like some sort of lumbering titans closing in on them with irresistible force.

He managed to hold into the railing, and gazed upon the lower central deck. Down there he could see a few dead sailors with wooden shrapnel stabbed all over them, pieces of what remained of the mainmast.

Forwards, below the forecastle deck he could see First Seaman Dorreo and what remained of the fore crew. "SEAMAN DORREO!" he shouted, pitching his voice to carry. They were desperately trying to hack a piece of the forward mast, trying to cut it down and let the sea carry it down instead of the whole ship. "SEAMAN DORREO!!! PUMPS! LOWER DECK!" he shouted.

Dorreo turned to look at him just as a huge wave impacted them from the Port side, an explosion of water that clouded Joffrey's vision for a few seconds as he hold on for dear life. When he wiped his eyes clean, there was no one below the forecastle deck.

"HOLD ON! IT'S A MASSIVE ONE!" someone shouted, and Joffrey paled as he looked to the front at a wave that looked bigger than Aegon's Hill.

The seas were completely dark, the black water greedily absorbing the light from the few lanterns that remained on the ship. Joffrey could only see the seas when a thunder roared and the sky lit up for miles, revealing towering columns of water, curling waves the size of Leviathans tumbling and splitting like huge ancient maws devouring the world.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Joffrey roared as he made sure he was still tied to the railing.

The ship started to climb the wave, propelled like a dragon even with the few sails that remained. They climbed and climbed and climbed, until suddenly they stalled and Joffrey feared they'd capsize.

Then they fell.

The ship crested the wave, and then it was nothing but down.

The ship tilted to the side as they picked up speed again, and Joffrey could only hold on, he couldn't speak nor command, all-consuming darkness closing in as a wave hit them from the starboard side and the Jade Dreams squealed in agony.

He felt himself being propelled forwards with the force of the impact. He tumbled through the deck in bone chilling pain, a white, freezing agony lodging itself on his belly.

He spat water, but when he tried to stand he fell back on the deck. He could see a piece of the wooden railing jutting out from his belly, the blood flowing slowly, very slowly from the wound because of the pervasive cold.

He was on the central deck, but he couldn't see the bodies he'd spotted before… they had been washed out by the seas.

He propped himself, leaning his back on the stub that used to be the mainmast, facing the forward deck. His head buzzed with an omnipresent twine, multiple white spots dancing in his vision as he felt cold blood slipping down his forehead.

He struggled to turn his head to the left, and saw Archmaester Ebrose standing on the deck, the pounding rain sticking his long hair to his head. His shining silver mask glinted despite the lack of light as he gazed thoughtfully at the whalebone tablet in his hand, tilting it slowly. "Heavy concussions can distort the senses and cloud the mind, blurring the twilight between dreams and reality" he said, cleaning it with his sleeve. He passed the tablet to a pale man in a slender black robe, his neck stretched longer than his arms, filled with copper rings. "But which is which?" he said, his voice oddly distorted as he received the tablet with one finger, lifting it in perfect balance as he tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps The Purple is your reality, and this is merely the dream? Perhaps dream and dreamer have switched?" he mused, giving the tablet to his right.

A billowing figure of red, black and purple robes received it. Its voice had a thousand echoes as it spoke. "But at this level, when you transcend Gods and Magic, is there a meaningful distinction between the two?" asked the alien voice as the tablet floated in front of it, spinning on its own axis. "Perhaps purpose and existence are but one, dream and dreamer… " The robes swirled with the wind, revealing no body under it.

The howling wind reached impossible speeds and the thunders seemed to split the skies open.

Then he saw it.

A wave towering over what remained of the ship like the Mountains of the Moon, a colossal, black thing that seemed to consume the horizon as it slowly reached the Jade Dreams, surrounding it from all sides, even from above as the crest of the wave tumbled forwards, blotting what few stars Joffrey could see in the sky.

The wave consumed them.

-.PD.-

Joffrey tumbled through the cold ocean, sinking and sinking and sinking.

He saw pieces of the Jade Dreams, tumbling and swirling as they spiraled ever downwards.

He focused on one of the pieces.

It was Jon Rivers, eyes still and wide open, limbs limp as he sunk faster and faster, a big piece of wood that was tied to his waist carried him down.

Joffrey's vision blurred as looked down into the ever darkening abyss, and he saw red.

He saw trios of red dots, first appearing from below, then to his sides, then in front of him. Soon all the abyss, all the ocean was filled with red eyes that gazed at him, watching eternally. They watched as The Purple seeped into his vision like wine on water, tinting it and surrounding him in a tornado of encroaching purple darkness.

-.PD.-

Joffrey slowly felt the heat on his face, like a yellow hot poker slowly approaching his forehead. His eyes opened, and he gazed at the blue, beautiful sky. He didn't feel his body, but he could hear the sea as it gently crashed against a shore, a constant, entrancing lullaby right at his sides.

He blinked slowly as he kept gazing at the sky, contemplating its spread of blue shades…

He heard footsteps approaching, a deliberate staccato of boots on sand, a course following a purpose.

"What about this one?" said a voice in a language he couldn't identify.

"… He's small but strong… He'll serve the Dawn" commanded a second voice, and the blue sky faded into comforting oblivion.

-.PD.-