Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

Joffrey was breathing hard, the rhythm of his heart slowly accelerating as he stared at the slightly quivering form of Sansa Stark, kneeled on his room and holding her face with her hands.

Joffrey stared at her in silent horror, before trying to run away from the accursed room. He quickly found he couldn't move a single finger however, his entire body locked still as he stood there, gazing at her. Sansa's sobs didn't change, retaining the same cadence and volume even as Joffrey's heart kept pumping faster and faster for every second he stood there, a terrible, all-consuming dread slowly forming around him, slowly squeezing him from all sides of the room as his breathing got out of control. Sansa kept crying silently as Joffrey tried with all his might, with all his willpower to get out of there as the room kept getting smaller around him and his heart hammered out of his chest, he screamed silently when Sansa lowered her hands and looked up at him with no face at all—

Joffrey gave a scream as he woke up and sat up from the ground, the sleepy, bleary eyed form of Tyrion shuffling at his side before grunting and turning around, still asleep. Sandor was next to him, poking at their pathetic little fire with a piece of looted wood before looking at him.

"Just a nightmare Joffrey," he said gruffly, if not unkindly as he patted his shoulder.

He's right, for once, Joffrey thought whimsically as he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the cobwebs that didn't want them to open completely. Even before Valyria his sleep had been thrown off kilter. Here, looking at the eerily silent black wastes that stretched as far as the eye could see, Joffrey was not surprised to find his sleep reduced to only a few tormented hours a night.

Still, the companionable silence was a slow acting balm on his frayed nerves as he sat there, staring at the fire with Sandor as the half glimpsed moon moved along the sky, her form shrouded by the distant clouds of black smoke.

"Sandor… the modified poultice we used to coat the pig bladders," Joffrey suddenly said as he aimed at the unused, balloon shaped forms hanging from his backpack. They'd be good for only a few breath's worth of fresh air, but sometimes that's all one needed. "Where they for the-"

"Aye," interrupted Sandor, looking him over, "… They were for the burns," he said with sigh, one hand subconsciously moving to his face before returning to his side.

Joffrey nodded, staying silent as the small fire crackled. They didn't even need the heat at this point, but the sight of it calmed Joffrey's mind, and Sandor's too, even if he wouldn't admit it. In a place like this, even his old torment was a familiar sight.

"My sister applied it when the Maester stopped," he said after a long moment.

"You've never told me her name," Joffrey said as they watched the fire.

"Aye," he agreed.

They stayed there as Tyrion snored, watching the fire before Sandor shook his head and tried to sleep, leaving Joffrey alone to ponder the heavy weights in his mind.

He took a deep breath as he felt for the tablet, its physical manifestation stashed far away in King's Landing even as its essence lay anchored snuggly against his soul. He stared at his hand as he stared at the essence at the same time, for why close his eyes when the strange perception of his soul relayed on means that had nothing to do with the material world? Indeed, the tablet travelled with him through the Purple, it was clear that the essence of its existence was something immaterial to human sight… thus, there was no reason he had to meditate to reach it. He just had to feel its shape, anchored deep within.

He stared at his palm as his awareness neared the essence of the tablet, understanding the simple truth that for all the distance that separated them, the tablet was always at his side.

He let the essence flood him as he metaphysically grabbed it and he smelt bone and mystery, felt salt and purpose and a message as the physical manifestation of the tablet appeared on his hand, a brief, almost too quick to see silent sea of fractals materializing out of thin air and drawing its shape in but a heartbeat before they were gone and only the whalebone tablet remained.

He stared at the tablet as he grabbed it with his other hand, looking at the caricatures of the empty anchor in his soul. What purpose had Brightroar, he wondered. Was it just a weapon to help him kill White Walkers? Somehow, he didn't think that was the answer. After all, the plentiful obsidian stashes the creators of the Purple had left him served that function adequately. No, it was a key piece of… something, he could feel it. A weapon of war, of life, a bridge… a bridge to what exactly? Why did Brightroar's anchor cut so deeply into his soul?

The questions chased him all the way to Dawn, and were only banished by a disapproving thump in the back, courtesy of Sandor.

-.PD.-

They were roughly two days away when they saw one of the Fourteen Flames… or rather what remained of it. What had once been the first of the proud volcanoes of Old Valyria had seemingly exploded at half its height, for the great bulk of the volcano ended abruptly, a jagged line unevenly bisecting what by all rights should have been but half of its true height, as if some godly headsman had beheaded the mountain itself. A great dark torrent of smoke poured from its gaping mouth upwards towards the heavens, only for it to fall away in the distance.

The ground itself seemed to grow hotter and hotter the closer they got to Valyria, and the cairns seemed to grow more numerous the closer they got. They seemed more haphazard too…

The slope gradually got steeper as they neared the destroyed city, until they were almost climbing its jagged edges, the Smokestorms almost claiming their lives as the smoke and wind tried to batter them off the ledge...

But they persevered, and when the climb had almost turned impossible they managed to clear the peak and Joffrey saw the ruins of Old Valyria, Capital of the Valyrian Freehold.

What remained of the city looked as if its foundations had been tilted vaguely clockwise and then plunged downwards. It was nestled inside what seemed to be by all rights a gigantic crater, and the city itself seemed to have sunk downwards and sideways. Joffrey could see the upper parts of great black towers peeking from the sea of blackened stone and pumice, all either crumbling or destroyed. All of them seemed tilted to the right, all but the tallest of towers buried the ash, stone and solidified lava.

"Gods…" whispered Tyrion.

"No, Uncle. Men," Said Joffrey as he surveyed all that remained of Old Valyria.

What immediately caught his attention though was the enormous, titanic black dome in the middle of the city, tilted as the rest of it. It must have been bigger than Aegon's High Hill, and that was only counting what Joffrey could see. The whole structure could range anywhere in between King's Landing and the whole of Dragonstone, depending on how much exactly had the city sunk.

"Ten golden dragons Tommen made a beeline for the dome," Tyrion suddenly broke the silence.

"Bad bet," Joffrey said automatically.

"Twenty golden dragons Joffrey makes a beeline for it," Sandor said in turn.

"Even worst bet," Joffrey said as he turned back, "Let's go and get that damned sword, I'm being roasted right now," he said as he wiped his head.

There was no disagreement as they made their way down the slope. Joffrey quickly touched the sea of pumice and rocks, finding it not too hot to walk over.

"That dome must have been halfway submerged in lava and it's still standing," Tyrion said as they walked through what had once been the city's skyline, taking care not to get near any of the tilted towers. With Joffrey's luck, it was bound to fall upon them if they strayed too near wrong.

They walked for a long while, wary of smokestorms as they traversed the almost barren plain.

Old Valyria must have been huge, twice as big as Volantis at the very least… Joffrey thought uneasily as he kept moving. He tried not to think about the likely millions of bodies he was walking over right now. The big dome in the distance seemed to grow and grow until finally they were in front of it, its great bulk dizzying to look up.

Joffrey quickly found an entrance, or rather a window. The arched window gave way to an open aired hallway with blackstone handrails, intricately carved with figures of Dragons and monsters. He peeked down over the handrail and saw the cavernous interior of the dome, big enough to fit the Red Keep, the Dragonpit and Baelor's Sept all together and leave enough space for more. He lit a torch and threw it down as Sandor and Tyrion caught up, all three of them watching the torch tumble down as it illuminated the vast, circular walkways that kept spiraling along the dome's edge. The ones nearest the top were filled with decorative work over the handrails, while the ones at the lower levels seemed simpler.

"What is this place?" muttered Sandor, the glare of his torch illuminating the burnt side of his face. Some parts of the walkway seemed ruined, missing sections.

"Must be the Agora," Tyrion said in vaguely restrained awe as he gazed at the open aired walkways. "It is said all the freeborn landowners of the Valyrian Freehold had a hand in its government, and for that to be true you'd need a veritable arena to house them all," he said as he gazed down, "Well, at least those who lived in Valyria proper… or half a day away on dragonback…" he amended.

"The upper floors must have been reserved for the dragonlords themselves, the Forty Families," Joffrey said as he started walking down the huge, spiral walkway.

"You're telling me the Targeryeans used to hatch their schemes right here?" Sandor asked as he and Tyrion followed him.

"Well, scheme is too strong a word, after all this whole dome, Agora, however you want to call it, was in all likelihood a mummer's show," said Joffrey.

Tyrion looked on proudly as he nodded, "Well said nephew, the Forty Families had in all likelihood 'governed' from their private manses, convening in private to square out matters of greater import," he said.

"Or atop their dragons," remarked Sandor, showing the Hound was not as simple as he wanted people in general to believe.

"Indeed," Joffrey said as he gazed down again, "Is that… are those bodies?" he said as he broke into a sprint.

They managed to catch him as he kneeled over the broken remains of a couple of skeletons, still clad in rotting light armor.

"No Valyrians, these ones," Sandor remarked as he lifted a rusted sword, "Castle forged steel," he said.

"For common sailors?" Joffrey asked.

"Tommen Lannister had all the wealth of the Rock at his back and no liege lord to send his taxes to. I'd say outfitting the crew of his flagship with good steel was not much on an expense, all in all," remarked Tyrion.

"Good point," muttered Joffrey in vague envy as he stood up, "Come on, there's bound to be more further down," he called out as he kept going.

They found dozens of bodies the further down they went, most of which seemed to have been in the middle of doing something to the finer looking of the handrails, before they'd stumbled randomly and died.

"They were looting the masonry," said the Hound in faint disbelief.

"Yeah, they must have been desperate… can't say I blame them, this place is a wasteland," Joffrey said as he looked at the disposition of the skeletons.

"A smokestorm must have hit them while they were in the middle of it… poor fools never had a chance, did they?" Tyrion said as he turned back from one of the corpses.

Joffrey shook his head "Smokestorms must have been even hotter back then, these bones look almost charred," he said before he kept walking down, his eyes alert for fine armor and the gleam of Valyrian Steel, jumping over missing sections of the walkway that had fallen not to any mortal hand but to time itself. They reached the bottom of the stairs soon enough, or rather, reached the point where the sea of rock and pumice made it impossible to go on even if one jumped downwards. The rocks and pumice seemed to solidly placed Joffrey might as well have been on the ground floor.

All around the sea of rocks Joffrey could spot great chunks of black masonry, some bigger than a heavy wagon. They peppered the area randomly, and Joffrey could see the telltale signs of structural failure… It seemed the missing parts of the walkway had fallen here, their support beams giving way under the strain of time.

"How many more floors do you think this thing goes?" Joffrey muttered as the Hound caught up to him again and he walked over the sea of rocks, grabbing the torch he'd tossed a while ago.

"Too many," he rasped, breathing hard. Poor Tyrion was even worse, still trying to catch up and in dire need of 'tits and wine' as he'd been haranguing for the past few days.

Joffrey walked to the middle of the Agora, the pumice creaking under his boots as he gazed up at the huge, gaping hole up in the middle of the dome. It served as a convenient skylight, letting in a bit of sunlight from the exterior. He looked back down to the veritable sea of choking skeletons and shook his head, looking everywhere around him and trying to find Brightroar. By now he wanted to strangle Tommen's corpse for the doomed task the man had set upon himself. The black chunks of fallen masonry seemed like reefs jutting out from under the sea of pumice and solidified lava, their presence along with the burnt, mangled skeletons strewn around giving the whole place the air of a mausoleum.

At least now I know where part of a certain, crazy devil streak comes from… he thought with a snort, his eyes narrowing when he saw the glint of a pommel. Tyrion was already reaching the last of the stairs and the Hound was at the other side of the Agora, checking a few of the corpses.

Joffrey's heart raced wildly as he walked towards it quickly, reaching a mangled corpse clad in the remains of an incredibly fine armor, gold enameled armor. The husk itself didn't seem to have any legs, and the torso was light in Joffrey's hand as he turned it around.

For once, could it be so easy? He dared ask himself as his hesitant hands descended over the corpse. The skeleton of King Tommen was locked in place, both hands grasping forwards almost desperately. It was there, half covered by the corpse, that Joffrey found Brightroar.

The bastard sword's hilt sported a snarling lion head, and the blade itself shimmered slightly when the light from Joffrey's torch caught it, a golden yellow that gave the classical Valyrian Steel gloss a stately aura. Joffrey lowered his hand almost against his will, trembling slightly as he dared grasp a piece of the Purple's plan.

He lifted the deceptively light sword with his left hand, its grip feeling both awkward and familiar in his hand. He didn't use bastard swords all that often, but there was something about Brightroar that made it feel right in his grip. The ancestral blade of House Lannister made the wind whistle slightly as he twirled it about, feeling its grip, its essence. There was something about the blade that seemed to just… fit… no, not the blade. Him.

"Tyrion! Sandor! I found--" he stopped after he turned around and everything turned dark, the light that reached the ground through the great hole in the dome no more. Joffrey looked up, confused as he saw some dark blob blotting the entirety of the gaping hole, as if some great black tarp had suddenly attached itself to the ceiling.

His breath hitched as he gazed up, petrified as the thing that had been blocking the light suddenly fell towards them, the returning sunlight illuminating its enormous, scaled form.

A Dragon bigger than Maegor's Holdfast landed in the middle of the Agora, its glossy black scales almost vibrating under the sunlight as the impact sent Joffrey tumbling to the ground, the great beast rearing its head upwards and roaring, the echo threatened to leave Joffrey completely deaf as he covered his ears in pain. It stood on its hind legs before slamming its two wings into the ground and using them as forelegs, both of which ended in wickedly sharp claws bigger than a horse.

He stood up drunkenly to the sight of Uncle Tyrion still standing, his mouth agape in complete and utter shock, slowly taking the form of an unrestrained childish smile, "A dragon…" Joffrey could somehow hear him whisper before the beast opened its great maw and unleashed a searing firestorm that almost blinded him. Joffrey cried out loud as he held his eyes, blinking repeatedly as he struggled against the glare. Even through the almost blinding light, Joffrey could see how Tyrion's sillouhette disintegrated, leaving nothing but ash and a blackened smudge against the black wall.

"TYRION!!!" he screamed as tears leapt from his eyes, the sight of his uncle vaporizing in front of his own eyes repeating inside his head again and again. Memories forever lost, the quiet moments by the campfire, the silent approval, the caring concern, the fits of laughter, all now soon to be replaced by the weary disgust, as it has always been, as it will always be. The Dragon turned around almost lazily, its great coiling form making it seem slower than it actually was. The beast's great maw opened to reveal rows upon rows of ashen, wickedly sharp teeth, and the back of its throat glowed orange before Sandor was suddenly shoving him sideways, both of them landing on the hard rocks as most of the firebreath slammed into the wall behind him and vaporized Tommen's corpse.

Most of it… Part of the fire had latched itself upon Sandor's back. The Hound's face was but a millimeter away from Joffrey's, and he could see it disfigure itself in fear and pain as he smelt cooking flesh. "Run," he whispered in agony as he stood up and bodily threw him towards the walkway.

Joffrey stumbled towards the stairs, the words of his sworn shield echoing inside his head as Sandor bellowed a mighty roar and charged the black dragon. He managed to slam his longsword against its lower chest, barely scraping its tough scales before the beast gored him with a great claw longer than himself. It rented apart what little armor Sandor had been carrying and made him tumble through the floor, half his guts spilt over the rocks. He didn't even manage a scream before the dragon devoured him whole. All of three seconds passed between Sandor's last command and his death.

Joffrey was still stumbling in shock towards the walkway, his mind staggering under the sudden events as he turned to face the dragon, the beast roaring at him. "No… no… They knew me… I had them back… I had a piece of them back…" he mumbled as he tripped and fell to his knees, feeling drained and hollow like never before, the last embers of his will burning away as he lost the strength to even crawl.

"It's all pointless," he whispered as he turned around, the dragon stalking towards him, each trundling step shaking the ground and making the pumice rattle wildly as it turned its maw towards him and finished the job of returning him to the Red Keep, back to the sadistic, disgusting Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

Back to the wariness and the disdain.

As it always had. As it always will. Forever.

Bottomless rage surged from the depths of his being as an animal snarl escaped his lips. Rage at the monster that had taken his true friends, never to be seen as they were. Rage at the world at large, for fulfilling only death and suffering. Rage at the Purple for cursing him with existence. Rage at the despair and the emptiness. Rage at himself.

"No," he told the Dragon as the back of its maw turned orange, giving light to half the Agora as he stood up, purged and hollowed. An emptiness soon filled and overflowing with an all-encompassing red rage.

He jumped and rolled behind a piece of fallen masonry, the blast of fire and heat making him sweat instantly as a torrent of flames incinerated the spot he'd been occupying just before. The dragon's maw followed him, toasting the great piece of masonry Joffrey had used as cover and turning the air around him almost too hot to breathe.

When the torrent ended, Joffrey walked out from the other side, twirling Brightroar in his hand as a cruel smirk adorned his features and he charged the colossal black dragon.

He didn't know where the thing had come from. He didn't care why it had done what it did.

He only knew he was going to make it suffer.

The dragon roared and tried to skewer him sideways with one of its great claws, but Joffrey ducked down at the last minute and let the claw fly by, lifting Brightroar and slamming it upwards against the leathery wing that followed it, trying not to be buffeted aside with the force of the blow. It was incredibly strong, but Joffrey kneeled and braced Brightroar further as the sword pierced the wing and the Dragon's strength did the rest, tearing a long section of the wing and extracting a toll of sizzling blood.

The Dragon reared back as it roared in rage and Joffrey darted towards it with a roar of his own, a torrent of great searing flames following his path towards the beast as he sprinted for its huge belly. The great Dragon screeched in pain as Joffrey slammed Brightroar with all his force against its belly, extracting it and rolling under its hind legs half a second before the beast let its weight drop and slammed against the sea of stones, cracking pumice and shreds of obsidian and making Joffrey stumble as he lost his equilibrium. He didn't have time to dodge as the beast's long, powerful tail slammed into him and sent him flying against the wall, tumbling against the sharp rocks in a shower of cuts and bruises.

Joffrey spluttered as he tried to stand up, holding his belly as his eyes tried to close in pain. He shook his head slightly, stumbling as he coughed a bit of blood and searched franticly for Brightroar. He didn't have time to get his bearings before a huge weight slammed against the earth after one leather flap that drowned his heartbeat, a huge maw filled with ashen white teeth filling his vision from one moment to the next.

He bellowed as he jumped as hard as he could, rolling on the ground and barely missing the beast's sword like double row of fangs, its huge jaw almost snapping him in half. It reared back and tried again, this time using the length of its neck like a coil or a whip to slam its head against Joffrey before he could even think of standing up.

Joffrey rolled towards the beast as fast as he could, its head slamming against his former position and missing him by a breath, its huge maw only eating stone as Joffrey found himself beneath its huge head, blotting the light from the skies. Before it could raise its head again though, Joffrey slammed his arming sword up through its lower jaw, the castle forged steel finding it a bit softer than the rest of its scales. It was only a shallow cut though, and Joffrey had to leave it there as he rolled sideways as the beast slammed its head backwards and downwards, trying to squash him like a bug. The blade snapped in half, the pommel bouncing near his position as he stood up.

The Dragon's neck coiled back and forwards again, Joffrey spinning with a water twirl and grasping the shattered blade as he dodged the head again, barely. The Dragon opened its huge maw and roared at point blank range, leaving Joffrey deaf to the world at large and hearing only a continuous, high keened whistle. Joffrey screamed silently at the force of the roar that seemed to push him backwards with incredible force, kneeling before jumping forwards with a burst of strength and slamming what was left of his arming sword up the Dragon's palate and leaving it there. He tried to retreat his hand as fast as it could, but it was too late as the Dragon snapped them shut and Joffrey's left hand found itself missing two fingers, blood spilling everywhere as he ran and took cover behind another chuck of the walkway, a stream of otherworldly, almost liquid fire following his path and searing the piece of masonry. The Dragon retreated back, content to keep the range as it kept pumping the masonry with a jet of blood boiling heat and flame.

Joffrey slowly slid down the chunk of steadily warming masonry, holding his hand close as it kept bleeding, his eyes closing in pain as he coughed blood again. He took out a rag from his slightly torn backpack, wrapping it tightly around the torn fingers. He had trouble breathing in the hot air as took off the backpack and stringed his composite bow, grimacing in pain as his fingers throbbed and his lungs burned.

It has to stop eventually, he thought, sweating like a pig as the chunk of masonry turned too hot to touch and he had to slide a bit forwards. He finished stringing the powerful goldenheart bow, the castle forged steel arrows held tightly in his other hand. Despite losing his ring and little finger, he could still use the bow.

It has to stop eventually, he thought as the jet of flames slowly acquired sound to his ears, a deep, gravelly throttled thrumming that whipped around with the force of a hurricane.

It has to stop eventually, he thought as his lungs burned and his vision grew dizzy.

The earth thrumming power of the flames disappeared from one second to the next, and Joffrey was already rising, his boots smoking as he sprinted besides the half slagged chunk of masonry, the residual heat hurting his face as he tensed the bow, aimed and loosed at the dragon in a second.

The arrow sailed into its mouth just as it took a deep breath. It slammed its mouth shut, biting into the thing that had dared hurt it and only spurting more blood in the process. It turned its hateful, yellow eyes towards Joffrey and breathed in quickly, a burst of fire emerging from its maw.

Joffrey was already running for the next chunk of fallen, blackstone masonry, but this time he was too slow. The gust of flame clipped him in the shoulder, and he arrived behind the chunk in a tumble, his upper shoulder an agony of pain as he rolled and tried to put out the flames. They carved deeply into him before they were put out, but Joffrey was already nocking another arrow, screaming in pain even as he let it purge him of all further thought but the murder of one of fate's tools.

He peaked and loosed, the arrow bouncing against its scales as the Dragon closed the distance and took in a shallow, little breath before flames exploded out of its mouth. Maybe it had learned not to leave its maw exposed, or maybe it couldn't draw longer breaths because of the damage already done. Either way, short, furious bursts of fire began assaulting Joffrey's position.

He was exhausted and in great pain, the furious anger that had propelled him just moments ago giving way to a strange kind of serene emptiness as fire raged and black smoke slowly started to invade the Agora from above.

Breathe, someone whispered.

Scalding hot fire buffeted his position, making the great weight of the masonry slide minutely against the ground under the force of the blast.

In, Joffrey whispered in the stillness of his mind.

Another gust of fire slammed against the masonry, but this one was aimed at the opposite side from where Joffrey had entered, the one he was closest to right now. A bit of the searing hot flames disintegrated one of his eyebrows as he closed his eyes.

Out.

In between that one and the next he was already moving, boots sizzling against the ground and bow aiming up and up and up at the Dragon as it reared on its hind legs, its body several stories tall as its head followed him and its eyes narrowed, as distant as a banner atop Maegor's Holdfast.

He loosed the arrow as he ran, its wickedly sharp tip piercing right into one of the Dragon's beady eyes and unleashing blood and gore as it screeched in ear renting agony.

But the beast would not die as it closed the distance again, undeterred by the loss of its left eye as it moved as fast as before, its snaking, spiked form rushing Joffrey as he spotted Brightroar dozens of meters ahead of him, too far to reach before the beast was upon him.

"Wind, guide me," he uttered in the harsh tongue of the Far East as he loosed, the arrow slamming against the Dragon's right eye just before its clawed wing descended upon him. He twisted and barely avoided the deadly claw, but the hard bone and cartilage of the rest of the wing still slammed into his belly, sending him tumbling through the air and slamming against the floor.

Everything was blurry as Joffrey raised his head from the hard stones, a trickle of blood descending from his forehead and blinding his right eye as sounds warbled and distorted, the earth shaking like the end of days as some sort of blackness kept filling the Agora. He blinked slowly as he turned his head and saw the Dragon thrashing wildly, its huge form butting into different sections of the Agora in literal blind rage, his bow turned to splinters nearby.

Joffrey turned his head to the other side and saw Brightroar, its golden yellow sheen brighter than ever in the midst of the encroaching darkness. He crawled towards it, slowly making his way as the earth kept shaking and sky shattering roars thundered, he kept crawling as black smoke narrowed his senses to the pommel itself, the roaring lion.

He stood up when he reached it, using it as a cane to steady himself, coughing blood as the Dragon tried to take flight blindly, only to crash against part of the walkway.

It's trying get its bearings, trying to fly up… he thought in strange staccato, his thoughts jumbled and confused as he shook his head and felt pain, clearing it slightly.

He coughed again, and looked up to see more and more smoke billowing in from the hole in the dome and the windows of the upper floors from where he'd entered. He swayed as he searched for his mask, finding it mangled and almost broken as it hanged from his half destroyed backpack. He put it on before looking back at the great thrashing beast, flying up a few stories before crashing against the walkway and back into the ground. It was only a matter of time until it got it right.

No, came the thought in crystal clear clarity as he turned to the walkway and ran like never before, the Dragon screeching as it heard him and unleashed a torrent of flames that followed him up the walkway.

Joffrey sprinted up the spiraling walkway like a man possessed, the path making him run great circles around the Dragon in the ground floor as it desperately tried to angle itself for a clean surge upwards, drunk with pain. It kept shooting streams of fire randomly, setting whole sections of the walkway ablaze as Joffrey ran and ran and ran, searing heat scalding his legs and his lungs wheezing in agony as he stumbled thanks to the poor vision and tripped, the mask cracking under the blow, black smoke intermingling with the clean air of the filter.

His own wheezing breath sounded distorted through the mask as he stood up and kept running, vapor crawling atop the glass surface and further limiting his vision as he looked down and saw the Dragon finally angle itself correctly and launch itself upwards with a burst of strength and a roar of triumph, circling the great Agora from the inside as its titanic wings unfurled themselves, pumping with enormous power time and again as it flew higher and higher.

Joffrey traced its flight as the great wings echoed through the silent mausoleum, sprinting like lightning over the bones and ashes of the scions of Ancient Valyria and the Barbaroi of the West, all united through the silent embrace of oblivion. He ran and ran and ran until he suddenly leaped over the handrail and fell, his guts and spirit crawling to his throat as the great acceleration of free fall threw him downwards with ever increasing speed, Brightroar held down straight as he roared in grief and pain and rage and loneliness as he slammed against the back of the Dragon with the force of a siege ram, Brightroar biting deep into its spine until only the hilt remained in sight.

The great black dragon roared in agony as it folded its wings and the inertia carried it up past the hole in the dome and the black smoke, unfurling them again amongst the clear skies as it climbed higher and higher into the air and it tried to shake Joffrey off, blood raining over the black wasteland that was once Old Valyria. Joffrey ripped the useless, broken mask as he coughed, looking back down as the great ruins kept getting smaller and smaller, the Dragon doing its best to shake him off as it cart wheeled in the air.

Joffrey gritted his teeth silently as the dizzying maneuver made his feet and legs fly off their own will, the rest of his body following as his arms extended and he grasped Brightroar with all his strength, the blackened sky and the black earth intermingling again and again until he lost sight of which was which.

The Agora was the size of his arm when the Dragon stopped spinning, and Joffrey braced himself with both legs as he extracted Brightroar with a bellow of effort, his hand bleeding again and intermingling with the beast's. The Dragon was gaining altitude once more, flying up and up in a frenzy as Joffrey used it's spikes as climbing rakes, getting closer to the neck with each gasping strain of effort, legs and hands climbing the beast as if it were a mountain, the incredible speed of the ascent making him narrow his eyes as much as he could, the air slamming into his face nonstop and leaving him slightly dazed.

He reached the base of its neck, breathing hard as he straddled it and raised Brightroar high in the air.

"DIE!!!" He roared with all his might as he brought down the blade vertically, piercing scales before twisting brutally, sizzling blood erupting like a small fountain and splashing him. The Dragon gave a keening, agonizing screech before it tried to shake him off once more, the horizon spinning as the black of the ground became larger and larger.

No, not the ground, Joffrey realized as the beast kept pumping its wings, carrying them even higher and directly against the horizon of black smoke. Joffrey desperately searched for his spare mask, but found that what remained of his bag had been torn asunder…

Only the pig bladder with the fixed valve remained, coated in the Hound's modified poultice.

He tried to grab it but failed, his hand screaming in pain as the stumps of his fingers slipped, the curtain of black smoke consuming his vision as the Agora was reduced to the size of a finger. Joffrey changed hands, holding the impaling Brightroar with the injured one as the other one grasped the bladder and the Dragon slammed into the curtain of choking, searing hot smoke.

Joffrey coughed as the heat and ash raked his face and he brought the valve near his mouth, trying to open it with his teeth but only managing to break one of them in his maddened effort, holding his breath as long as he could as his lungs burned and he tried again and a smidgen of air began leaving the bag from the bladder.

He clamped down on it, staying as still as he could, keenly aware of exactly how little air the bladder had inside. The Dragon kept flapping wildly, still flying up but starting to tilt its flight to the right. Joffrey breathed slowly as they kept rising, higher and higher amongst the black heavens as his eyes closed tight and his mind went hazy, higher as he struggled for one more breath…

…

....

.......

.........…

............…..

He slowly opened his eyes to the sight of the night sky in all its breath stealing splendor. The stars shone intensely, twinkling in the dead of night like never before, their familiar shapes escorted by a plethora of other stars that filled his entire field of view. Big, small, twinkling, still, he could see them making their way around him, so far away yet so close he swore he could almost touch them if he but dared reach with his hand. He could see the different colors that hanged upon them like celestial auras, reds and blues and yellows combining in a riot of stars and constellations, nebulas and distant shapes that radical Maesters were sure represented whole other cosmos', just as big the one they all inhabited, however big that was.

Stars, he thought, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stars, not Constellations, he thought cryptically, his head sluggish.

He blinked again, watching meteors tumble and burn against the black backdrop, leaving long searing trails of red and orange that faded to nothing just as quickly.

Is it over? he thought, feeling strangely weightless and cold. Was this how true death felt?

He blinked slowly in raptured awe at the majesty and sheer thrumming power of the Red Comet, slowly beginning its orbit around the planet as it bathed him in red and sailed so close by he could jump at it and hold it in both hands if he but had the strength to lift his head. Its red tail seemed longer than he'd ever seen, almost spindling back around the earth itself, its sheer presence filling him with awe and dread.

He let his head droop to the side and saw the Dragon's wings drifting aimlessly, slowly gliding back down from the skies, its head drooping as Joffrey's breath hitched, looking at the earth below partly blanketed by a sea of clouds. He could just make out the curvature of the planet with the naked eye, whole continents and islands floating amongst the grand oceans which encompassed them, holding all he had ever seen and all he had ever heard.

When he closed his eyes again, this time willingly, he hoped it would be the last sight he'd ever see.

A beautiful, serene end to his existence.

…

…..

.....

......…

When he opened his eyes again, instead of stars he saw the rapidly growing shape of a city, filled with thousands of ant sized people who did nothing but run in circles in absolute mayhem. Joffrey's dragon was barely pumping its wings anymore, barely gliding as they kept losing altitude and Joffrey's guts tried to climb out of his body.

"Wowowow!" Joffrey screamed as he grasped the still stuck Brightroar with all his strength, "Slow down! Slow down damn you!" he screamed at the dumb animal as it glided towards a tower in the middle of the city, barely moving its head.

How do I steer this thing?! Can't be that hard, the fucking Targs managed it! He thought in a frenzy as he slammed Brightroar left, the Dragon giving a muffled screech as it drifted vaguely leftwards, narrowly avoiding the tower as a lovely looking woman of Valyrian stock screamed through a window.

What if I travelled back in time to Old Valyria? Was it a crime to kill a dragon? He thought in confusion as he twisted Brightroar to the right, making the Dragon barely miss a big, luxurious estate and instead aim for a rapidly clearing plaza.

"Alright! Nice and easy you fucking monster!" Joffrey shouted at the thing as he pulled Brightroar back, jolting the beast somewhat awake and making it flap wildly a couple of times and slow down before it suddenly turned lax like a puppet with its strings cut, Joffrey managing a single curse before the great beast crashed against the plaza in a rain of cobblestones and torn apart stalls.

Joffrey found himself alive somehow, the Purple seemingly content to let him wallow in the sea of cuts, bruises and pulped internal organs. He cursed the damn thing as he stood up from atop the lower neck of the creature, thoroughly fed up with absolutely everything as he extracted the damned reason for the whole trip in a shower of blood and gore, swaying slightly as he walked down the length of its neck up to its head, cursing all the while. He held Brightroar in one hand as he carefully climbed the Dragon's head, mindful of the spikes.

He spotted a man cowering beneath a stand of apples only a few meters in front of the overgrown raptor's head, both hands bracing his head, shaking wildly as if he'd just spotted the Stranger.

"Uh, excuse me, good man, would you mind telling me where I am?" he called out in High Valyrian before grabbing one of the fallen apples and tearing into it like a starving wolf to a fat lamb.

"What?!" Joffrey shouted, pieces of apple flying wildly as he tried to understand the mangled dialect. He really needed a place to lay down for a while.

"Tolos?! Are you drunk?!" he shouted at the man, throwing him the apple core.

"Yes! Yes! Tolos! I swear it in the name of Great Meraxes! Please let me live, great one!" the man blabbered as he shrunk himself into a ball.

Joffrey stared at the man in mild incomprehension, "Tolos? That's on the other side of the godsdamned peninsula!" He spat, turning to the Dragon and slamming the tip of its nose with Brightroar's flat edge, "You fucking lizard -- WOW!" he screamed as the Dragon opened its maw and tried to bite his arm off, shuffling only a tiny bit forwards.

"DIE DAMN YOU! WHY?! DON'T!? YOU!? JUST!? DIE!!!" he snarled as he shoved Brightroar through what remained of its shredded eye, driving it up to the hilt and churning it like spoon as he tried to liquefy its brain.

An enormous rattle resounded throughout the plaza as the huge black dragon trembled in its death throes one last time, finally relaxing completely as it slumped vaguely forwards, twin wisps of black smoke lazily coming out of its nostrils as blood bubbled out of its eye socket.

Joffrey stood there as he stared at it, breathing hard as he tilted his head in curiosity, lifting the fold of its lip and scraping a bit of the hard bone above its huge teeth with his dagger. "Hm," he muttered, "I think I know what I'll make the sheath out of," he said before turning to the man beneath the stall.

"Hey! Which way to the nearest inn?" he called out to him, so tired he couldn't even feel his legs.

The man gave a gasp as he fainted, sprawled over the cobblestones.

"Seems like a good idea," Joffrey remarked before darkness claimed him. He was out before he reached the floor.

-.PD.-