Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

The deep sea storms of the Sunset Sea were things of raw power and emotion, amorphous beings with no purpose nor direction but a will to exist, towering waves whose crests sought to blot out the stars above as they rumbled in the grave tones of last whispers and forgotten omens.

Joffrey somehow understood that raw, primal call, that deep throated bellow of existence as great waves emerged from the depths like phantasms of the past, carrying his small yacht upwards towards the heavens only to fall short, a deep sigh escaping the sea as the wave lost strength and it sought to return back to its restless sleep, its longing denied by other great waves which slammed against each other in primeval fury, unleashing great explosions of salt water which tore into sails and slit open terrible, burning wounds.

As the raw force of nature sought to destroy itself in fury and storm, and as he slammed a cutlass against a rope and the remains of sail flew away never to be seen again, as titan waves crashed and great explosions of saltwater buffeted him clean off the mast, as the stars above were framed by churning water… Joffrey felt he could understand, to some small degree, the melody of existence itself. It was only there, in between the raging of sea and sky, pelted by freezing rain and illuminated by great cataclysms of thunder which illuminated the whole horizon as far as the eye could see and beyond… it was only when the melody assaulted him so greatly that he could hear it.

As a deaf man could feel the rhythm of a song by the way the drums thrummed against chest and guts if it were loud enough, so could Joffrey barely glimpse the subtle beat of existence inherent to all things. Existence was a thing that could not be explained by language, it was a melody that ebbed and thrummed beyond sight or sound… the closest sensation Joffrey could begin to liken it to were the timeless moment between inhalation and exhalation, a subtle weightless thing-moment-place somewhere between his lungs and his throat, a fraction of a millisecond that could sometimes, somehow, be more.

His small ship skirted over the titan waves quickly, propelled by great hurricanes of wind as he followed the invisible line westwards from his point of origin, the place where everything had begun, the place where he'd first died and the place where he'd since been reborn… the Red Keep.

West he sailed, following the orders from his creators, deep into the Sunset Sea, deeper than any had done before. He endured storms which would have broken up Brandon the Shiprwight's galleys into tinder, squalls which had once even propelled Joffrey himself out of his ship and up into the air before crashing him against the dark seas, the waters strangling him almost caringly.

He ate what he could fish and drank greedily from the constant storms, his body withering away even as it became taught like worked leather, his body becoming one with his soul. His ship leaked and ailed, and once he saw a great kraken in the distance, of a scale with the titanic waves which trundled over the sea. Joffrey saw its great grey form only once, cataclysmic lightning illuminating it in all its breath taking grandiosity, with its great tentacles each the size of the Hightower and its huge eyes which seemed to stare at him unflinchingly. Joffrey had stared back in awed wonder at the being in between the heavy rain and the wind, but when the skies split apart again in ear renting thunder and spindly, horizon spanning streaks of light… the being had disappeared.

Joffrey felt strange during the quiet moments of sunshine and calm winds, like a child shifting uneasily in between its mother's lullabies. He spent time with Stars, petting its salt drenched silver fur and enjoying the sound of his purring, the lion seemingly sharing his state of mind as he spent hours perched at the tip of the boat, gazing at the horizon in silence as Joffrey meditated. He knew too that a transformation of their existence was at hand.

Other times he spent with Brightroar, wondering at its purpose now that the time to use it, he supposed, approached. The golden lion pommel had bleached and acquired a silvered tone as it anchored itself into his soul, slotting deep within and leaving him with a connection to the depths of his being. Its faint, yellow gold aura still seemed prevalent within the Valyrian metal, resting snuggly against its runed dragon bone hilt. Sometimes he'd practice with the sword in wide, graceful strokes which had more in common with meditation than drill. It felt strange to wield a bastard sword with both hands, and its deceptively light weight had more than once ended with it slipping his fingers and splashing into the seas.

He sailed with map and compass, astrolabe and ruler, mind and hand straining to the limit as he kept following the line in the map that spanned from King's Landing to the uncharted waters of the Sunset Sea. He sailed and sailed and sailed until the earth decided to end him, the sky itself descending against the seas and unleashing a storm of such proportions that the air seemed scarcely breathable in between the rain, waves that dwarfed comprehension itself finally managing to defeat his half blind steering and pummeling him to the depths of the sea, cracking his ship in half and more.

As he drowned, Joffrey had the strangest certainty that this third trip would be the last, sun-like lightning illuminating the depths themselves and the mighty silhouette which crossed his awareness, from vigil to sleep or sleep to vigil he couldn't tell.

-.PD.-

His eyes didn't want to open at first, and his body felt strangely purged, devoid of joy and angst. He strained to hear a distant roaring, almost nonexistent, so far it was. As he focused on the sound, he realized it was coming closer, a highly pitched sibilant shriek accompanied by a gravelly throttled thrum which seemed to speed for him, becoming greater and greater the more he focused upon it.

The sibilant shriek maintained its intensity as the grave one receded, only for it to come again. Stronger and stronger it thrummed until it exploded in agony, its remains splattering against his body as felt his hands again. He raised one hand haltingly up his side, feeling something jagged and hard, coarse to the touch and drenched in water. He kept lifting his hand until it reached his face and he scraped the encrusted salt from his eyelids, managing to open his eyes just as the deep thrumming reached a crescendo once more and he saw a great wave slam against the rock he was laying upon, ferociously spilling its guts upon it and himself.

He realized the high pitched shrieking was the sound of the wind itself as it passed through the jagged landscape before him. Another wave crashed and pelted him with its remains as he looked back at the thunderous sea swirling behind him, the horizon lost to mist and storm. He turned back his head as he stood up and saw that which lay in front, a black, oily stone construction that began after the artificial reefs carved around it ended, a perfectly triangular black shape lying on its back in perfect geometry, like a great black three pointed starfish atop jagged black stone. Its contours seemed chipped and weathered, no ornamentation marring its form as it stretched over the waves like a monolith, only a few stories tall above the waterline… but below…

Below…

Joffrey followed its length down and down and down until the dark seas shrouded its form entirely and impeded his vision, the triangular tower continuing beyond the murky, stormy waters beyond his sight and the light from the moon and stars, only the occasional flash of lightning from above giving Joffrey glimpses of the Structure as it kept going down and down and down until even the great searing light of the enraged thunderstorm above grew too dim, and for all Joffrey knew the great black triangle reached down to the bowels of the earth, or perhaps the material entrance to the Purple itself.

He stumbled amongst the shoals of black rock as the waves tried to pull him down, spotting bits and pieces of his ship here and there. He spotted a piece of his cabin as he made his way towards the Triangle, the sight making him loose focus as he stumbled, crawling on all four when he lost his balance. When he stood up again he realized too late the great snarling wave which was upon him and he fell head first into the seas, powerful currents grasping him like chains as he swam desperately for the rocks. Primal lightning illuminated the Triangle as he looked down in between the swirl of bubbles and foam, an eternal tunnel with no end.

He broke the surface with a harrowing breath, hands tight on a section of the black reefs. He climbed the jagged surface haltingly as thunder roared in might and the harsh rain pelted him with ice.

He shivered from the cold as he reached some sort of ramp which climbed the sides of the Triangle, spotting a bit of flotsam stuck between the ramp and a particularly big piece of jagged reef. He stumbled towards it, the baleful moon making his skin seem a pale yellow as his trembling hands held one of the sealed, small crates which he'd hammered shut from before he departed Westeros. He tried to pry it open with his hands, waves bursting left and right and soaking him to the bone again as the storm raged and the wild wind shrieked and stole his body heat.

He gave a muffled scream as two of his nails broke, standing up and roaring as thunders screamed and Brightroar materialized itself in a twirl of purple fractals and an explosion of salt water, coming down on the crate and slicing a corner of it like bread.

Joffrey tossed the sword aside as he kneeled and retrieved the medium sized backpack from the crate, securing it quickly as he stumbled up the ramp, fighting against the force of the blows from the sea around him. He reached the top of the Triangle, gazing around him and seeing the same stormy seas wherever he looked, titan waves traversing the horizon as the wind bit into bones and he breathed hard, lowering his gaze to look at the interior of the Triangle. He shivered as he slid own the interior wall of the Triangle, gazing at the entrance of a black tunnel.

The tunnel which had waited eons for him.

He shivered as he retrieved a small, half soaked blanket and wrapped it around his back, leaning against the wall as he tore into a piece of beef jerky. He took a deep gulp of water from a small wineskin, closing his eyes as he took a deep breathe.

In…

Timeless existence beckoned as he lost himself to oblivion for a fraction of a second.

Out…

He opened his eyes as he stood up, retrieving a smallish oil lantern from the backpack as he walked towards the triangle shaped tunnel.

The gentle, flickering flame of the lantern illuminated the weathered black stone as Joffrey found himself walking down a set of stairs, every thirtieth step ending at an angle and twisting to his right. His breath echoed strangely within the staircase, a muffled sound which rebounded down the Triangle almost eternally even thought it sounded vaguely muted, strangled.

Water trickled down twin gutters at his sides, scurrying and waking him up when he'd stopped to sleep, the lantern's light absent, only the echo of his breath and the slipping water keeping him company as he slept a dreamless sleep.

Two times he stopped to sleep, and the cold grew muted the more he descended. His footsteps echoed down infinity as he turned right and went down the stairs, right and down the stairs, right and down the stairs and Joffrey thought he'd reached the next stage of his existence, an eternal penance through the dark stone tunnels as he went right and down the stairs, right and down the stairs, right and down the stairs until the stairs ended and Joffrey abruptly found himself in the bowels of the earth itself.

There was no sound but the water which sprinted down the gutters, quickly disappearing through unseen means and leaving him alone as he walked past the tunnel's end, entering a small hallway carved from the bedrock itself which wound through the earth in a very specific direction. Joffrey could hear absolutely nothing but his quickened breath, the place seemed as silent as a tomb as the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on edge and his hands trembled, his eyed wide open as he prepared to meet them.

The hallway ended in a great chamber carved from the bedrock, filled with a forest of black pillars which bored into the rock above and below, the entire chamber filled with scribbles from top to bottom. Five hallways departed from the chamber in directions which seemed either random… or extremely guided. He traversed through the chamber in slow steps, the periphery of his vision imagining eldritch shadows waiting for him behind each pillar, beckoning…

He knelt, trying to decipher the carvings wasted away with time. He walked throughout the whole chamber, trying to decipher the same repeating pattern from its remains.

"Speak," he said as he realized, gazing at the roof of the Structure, the lantern barely illuminating its vaulted ceiling and the weathered inscriptions above which eons before would have read but a single word.

'SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK, they read.

'Speak within the Structure and we shall answer', Joffrey remembered the message, his heart taught as if on a string as he opened his mouth and found he had no voice.

He spent and eternity like that, his heart hammering against his chest as a low keened sound emerged from his voice, blinking rapidly before he swallowed and he spoke.

"What am I?! Why did you create me?! How do I end this curse?!" he suddenly shouted, his trembling hands balling into fists as he held them close to his mouth and he gave voice to anguish and despair and his desire to know why.

His breath sounded like thunder to his ears, and he almost drowned himself as he tried to hold it in, trying to hear but the merest whisper in the wind, as his eyes bored on the hallways which might contain them.

As minutes came and went though, Joffrey gave an unsteady step forwards, and then another, and another as he haltingly made his way towards the first tunnel from left to right. He walked through it almost in a trance, watching the millions of tiny black pillars that reinforced the tunnel through its sides and roof. The tunnel seemed to go in a very specific direction, winding and twisting as the chamber kept getting farther away, until the tunnel finally leveled itself as if they had found what they wanted, only continuing for a few steps straight ahead until Joffrey found himself in front of a great black slab of rock, with plentiful manifolds carved into it. It didn't look like a door, perched as it was but a couple of steps above the ground as if it were a decorative painting.

Nothing adorned it nor anything else, and the tunnel ended there… as if the slab of black rock were the reason for the Triangle and the Chamber's… the entire Structure's reason of existence. Joffrey's trembling hands grasped the manifolds as he pulled back, channeling all his strength and fury and despair and loneliness and madness and grief and joy as he roared, pulling the great weight until it balanced itself on the edge.

"What am I?!?! Why did you create me?!?! How do I end this?!?!?" he roared as he pulled the black slab finally out of position and he stepped to the side, letting it fall backwards on the ground.

Joffrey stepped upon the black, fallen slab as he gazed at the mural which had been covered by it but a few seconds before, a mural carved for him. No pictures nor drawings it depicted, no constellations nor stars, no symbolism nor clues but the carved letters of the common tongue chiseled with clear purpose into the black stone, only lightly deteriorated due to the passage of time.

The trembling light of the lantern illuminated the carvings as Joffrey read his answers.

'YOU ARE PART OF AN UNFINISHED WEAPONS SYSTEM DESIGNED TO END THE PHENOMENA DESCRIBED BY HUMANITY AS 'THE LONG NIGHT', A RECURRING EXTINCTION EVENT THAT CLEANSES THIS PLANET'S BIOSPHERE IN PERIODIC NON REGULAR INTERVALS DETERMINED BY COMPLEX ASTRONOMICAL PHENOMENA. YOU ARE BUT THE LATEST ITERATION OF THIS SYSTEM, GIVEN FORM JUST BEFORE THE ONSET OF THE CYCLE'S NEXT STAGE.'

Joffrey took in a strangled breath, a hand holding his mouth tightly as his wild eyes kept going down and reading the words, the clear cut script burning into his soul.

'YOU WERE CREATED/CATALYZED/ENGINEERED/GIVEN SOUL/FORMED FROM RAW ENERGY TO FULFILL THIS TASK, BUT NOT BY OUR WILL. WE SUSPECT YOU WERE CREATED BY THE SAME ENTITY OR ENTITIES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE LONG NIGHT/THE CYCLE, BUT THEIR ERA LIES MORE DISTANT TO US THAN YOURS IS TO OURS BY AT LEAST SEVERAL ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE, MAKING DIRECT POST-OBSERVATION OF THEIR TIMES IMPOSSIBLE TO US. YOU COULD BE THE PRODUCT OF BEINGS BEYOND GEOMETRIC COMPREHENSION WHICH HAVE SINCE LEFT OUR PLANE OF EXISTENCE, HAVE BEEN SUBSUMED BY THE CYCLE OR OTHER EQUIVALENT PHENOMENA, OR HAVE OTHERWISE LOST INTEREST FOR EVENTS IN OUR LOCAL PLANE OF REALITY. SMALL TRACES OF THEIR WORKS AND DEEDS ARE APPARENT TO US AS OF TIME OF WRITING, BUT HAVE FADED AWAY ENTIRELY BY YOUR ERA. YOU COULD ALSO BE THE UNFINISHED WORK OF ANOTHER CIVILIZATION SEEKING TO STOP THE CYCLE, WE KNOW OF AT LEAST TWENTY SEVEN DISTINCT PRECURSOR CULTURES WHICH SPANNED THIS WORLD'S NORTHERN HEMISPHERE BEFORE OUR TIME, BUT IT IS LIKELY THERE HAS BEEN COUNTLESS MORE BEYOND THEM, TOO MANY TO ENUMERATE. THERE IS SIMPLY NO WAY TO TELL FOR CERTAIN. LINE OF INQUIRY ULTIMATELY IRRELEVANT.

Joffrey sat down as he stared at the carvings, blinking slowly and growing dizzy as he reached the last part and his last question, his hard breathing sounding like waves to his ears as he gazed at the black wall, his trembling hand aiming the questing light of the lantern.

'METHOD OF AUTHORIZED TERMINATION REMAINS UNCLEAR, THE PHENOMENA YOU REFER TO AS 'THE PURPLE' HAS ALL THE HALLMARKS OF AN UNFINISHED/RUSHED CREATION. THE TRANS-ARRAY IS LIKELY DESIGNED TO FOLD ITSELF UPON THE COMPLETION OF ITS TASK/THE ENDING OF THE CYCLE, BUT WE ARE NOT CERTAIN. THE ONLY WAY TO KNOW MORE IS BY THE SELF-EXPLORATION OF THE CURRENT ITERATION'S MAIN MODULE. YOU. UNAUTHORIZED TERMINATION IS CERTAINLY POSSIBLE AND THE MOST STATISTICALLY PROBABLE OUTCOME FOR YOU/YOUR ITERATION, AS IT HAS BEEN SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL. ALL PREVIOUS ITERATIONS/YOUR PREDECESSORS HAVE BEEN SUBSEQUENTLY CONSUMED BY THE LONG NIGHT'S ATTENDANT SUB PROCESSES AND RECYCLED INTO RAW ENERGY TO FUEL OTHER, SECONDARY TASKS. THIS CAN BE ACHIEVED BY ANY OF THE CYCLE'S MOBILE PLATFORMS IF A PHYSICAL CONNECTION WITH SUFFICIENT CHARGE IS ESTABLISHED WITH YOUR BODY. WE RECOMMEND EXTREME CAUTION WHEN ENGAGING IN DIRECT OPERATIONS AGAINST THE CYCLE. FURTHERMORE, THE ARRAY IS ESPECIALLY VULNERABLE TO ENEMY INTERVENTION WHEN AT THE ONSET OF RECLAMATION.

IF YOU ARE ASSIMILATED BY THE CYCLE, YOU/YOUR ITERATION WILL BE FORCIBLY SHUT DOWN, AND THE EXTINCTION OF ALL CURRENT SENTIENT/NEARSENTIENT LIFE WITHIN THIS PLANET WILL BE ASSURED SHORTLY THEREAFTER. WHAT YOU REFER TO AS THE PURPLE WILL ENTER A STATE OF DORMANCY AS IT RECHARGES THE VAST AMOUNTS OF ENERGY NEEDED TO CREATE AND SUSTAIN AN ITERATION, FEEDING ON BOTH PLANAR AND EXTRA-PLANAR TRANSIENT BACKGROUND RADIATION, BIDING ITS TIME UNTIL IT CAN CREATE ANOTHER SET OF HOSTS FROM A SUITABLY INTELLIGENT SPECIES WHICH FULFILLS ITS PROGRAMMED CRITERIA. ONCE ENERGY RESERVES ARE RECHARGED AND A SUITABLE HOST SPECIES EMERGES INTO SAPIENCE UPON THIS PLANET'S SURFACE OR SUB SURFACE, THE PURPLE WILL MAKE USE OF THE DISRUPTION CAUSED BY THE ONSET OF THE NEXT LONG NIGHT TO RESTART FROM ITS DORMANCY AND RENEW ITS WEAPONRY IN THE FORM OF NEW HOSTS.'

There the text ended, just as the black relief did, as if the black stone could not have been expanded but a single inch more to the right. Joffrey tried to breathe deeply as he hyperventilated, both hands covering his mouth as he stared at the black wall, reading the words again and again until they became seared in his memory.

He had come here for the closure of his existence, the final acts of his long life, to find answers to his circumstances and an informed end to his suffering… and he'd found himself caught in a colossal, titanic, no, even words failed to describe the sheer magnitude of the struggle which had raged upon this earth for millennia upon millennia, eons upon eons of vast civilizations orders of magnitude more advanced than any Joffrey had ever seen, all ground down to dust by the Long Night, itself but a construct of elder beings literally beyond his comprehension.

Joffrey walked back to the Chamber in a daze, trying to process the enormity of the task, a task even bigger than he'd thought, bigger than he could have imagined. Not even nightmares could have been able to convey the sheer titanic struggle of which he was but the latest in a long line of failed heroes...

No… Weapons.

He didn't understand the particular meaning of a few words, but what they aimed for seemed clear… indeed, the gist of the message seemed as clear as water. He had been created by the Purple, a thing which sounded strangely non… sentient he supposed, more similar to a complex Myrish clock than a man or a Shryke or some other thinking species. He was an unfinished weapon of some sort designed to counter The Cycle, The Long Night, The End of All Things… a defective weapon which had failed countless times before and would likely do so again.

Joffrey sat in the middle of the Chamber, hit by overwhelming waves of alternating awe and dread, shaken by the sheer magnitude of the Cosmos which had just revealed itself, a vast sphere of existence layered upon existence in a recursive pattern that, for all he knew, stretched to infinity.

What might there be beyond the creators of the Long Night and the Purple? He thought. Are there beings and meanings as beyond them as they are beyond me? He wondered, his form slack as he lost himself in the paralysis of the thought.

He shook his head slowly, very slowly as he came back to his reality, surprised to find the light from his lantern dimming as is throat ached, dry as he'd never before felt it.

He drank a bit of water, not even an ounce of hunger within him as the few sips made him dizzy and nauseated, shaking his head again before he refilled the oil lantern.

A picture was starting to emerge, a glimmer of understanding threading throughout his soul even as new questions emerged from his consciousness and what he thought the limits of the cosmos and existence itself opened beyond comprehension.

… But if they didn't create me, what is their role? Why give me this information? And the bone tablet? Who are they? Why go through all of this? Where are they? How are we talking like this? The questions kept barreling through his mind as he stood back up.

"I don't understand…" he trailed off, shaking his head once more as he straightened and shouted as clearly as he could.

"Who are you? And where are you?... How can we speak like this? Why did you make me run through this whole… pointless journey?! Why are you helping me at all?!" he shouted, the dread and the confusion almost overwhelming him.

He needed to know why…

He hesitated for a moment before quickly walking through the second hallway, never before seeing such a reinforced construction of their make. It was filled with reinforcing pillars that plunged from the ground and disappeared when they reached the ceiling, a forest of black pillars surrounding the Chamber and the hallways, everywhere. It was clear the entire Structure… the Triangle and the Chamber and the tunnels all were but the tiniest endpoint of a colossal construction built from the ground up to stand throughout the ages, more than any of the ruins he had visited before. Joffrey suspected even the most radical of musings in the most nonsensical works of maesterly architects at the Citadel could not even approach the work of engineering this endeavor had likely required…

Even after such a mighty work of otherworldly construction, Joffrey could see sections of the walkway which had collapsed, entire pillars which had given way, even the carved words or letters which lay everywhere along the tunnel seemed eroded beyond all comprehension.

The tunnel or walkway again seemed strangely on point, taking a series of precise turns and dips before leveling off and ending in a short hallway which contained another black stone slab. He gave a muffled roar as he grabbed the manifolds and pulled back, the long effort finally paying off he stood to the side and the slab fall, clearing the black carved letters in the wall.

He read silently as he illuminated the words with the oil lantern, almost wishing for the obscure meaning of the previous carvings as he gazed at the slightly chipped and weathered words from times of ancient past.

'DIFFICULT AND TOO EXTENSIVE TO EXPLAIN PROPERLY. WE SHALL PROVIDE A SIMPLIFIED ANSWER TO ALL QUESTIONS: WE ARE A SPECIES OF ORIGINALLY SEA DWELLING BEINGS WHO DEVELOPED SENTIENCE/THE CAPACITY FOR REASONED THOUGHT AND SELF EXAMINATION. IN TIME, WE ACHIEVED COMPLETE TEMPORARY MASTERY OVER THIS PLANET AS ITS DOMINANT SPECIES.'

Joffrey shook his head in shock, blinking quickly as he read.

'FROM YOUR POINT OF VIEW, OUR SPECIES WENT EXTINCT HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO. FROM OUR OWN, WE ARE GLIMPSING A POSSIBLE FUTURE AND PREPARING IT ACCORDING TO OUR WILL. SIMPLIFICATION: WE ARE WATCHING YOU SPEAK YOUR QUESTIONS IN WHAT FOR US CONSTITUTES A DISTANT FUTURE, AND THE ANSWERS YOU ARE READING RIGHT NOW WILL BE CARVED AND EMPLACED WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU WILL, IN TIME, FIND THEM. THIS FACT TIES WITH ALL YOUR REMAINING QUESTIONS. SIMPLIFICATION: TIME IS BOTH MALLEABLE AND PERCEPTIBLE, AND OUR VISION OF POSSIBLE FUTURES GROWS DIM AND BLURRED AFTER ONLY A FEW THOUSAND YEARS, EYESIGHT-LIKE PRECISION DEVOLVING INTO BARELY MORE THAN WHAT YOU WOULD CALL STATIC PAINTINGS AND DISTORTED WHISPERS, AND EVEN WORSE FOR EVERY GREATER ALLOTMENT OF TIME WHICH FOLLOWS. THIS BRINGS US TO YOU AND THE REASONS BEHIND OUR AID.'

Joffrey scratched his hair almost compulsively, stopping for a second before continuing.

'YOUR ERA IS AN ANOMALY IN THE SKEIN OF TIME. PERHAPS THE PURPLE HAS A METACOMPONENT WHICH IS ITSELF ANOTHER CYCLE, BOOSTING NORMAL OPERATIONS ONCE EVERY EON. PERHAPS ANOTHER OUT OF CONTEXT FORCE SIMILAR TO THE LONG NIGHT OR THE PURPLE IS EXERTING ABNORMAL INFLUENCE ON YOUR TIMES, OR PERHAPS THIS IS SIMPLY A NATURAL OCCURRENCE. ULTIMATELY IRRELEVANT. WHATEVER THE CASE, THE OBSERVATIONAL QUALITY OF YOUR ERA IS UNPARALLELED, THUS PRESENTING A WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY FOR US TO EXERT THE LARGEST DEGREE OF INFLUENCE OVER IT. WE KNOW THAT THERE WILL BE AT LEAST THREE DISTINCT CYCLES BETWEEN YOUR TIME AND OURS, BUT WE HAVE ABANDONED HOPE FOR THEIR PLIGHT. FOR MULTIPLE REASONS, YOU ARE THE MOST STATISTICALLY LIKELY ITERATION OF THE PURPLE WITHIN OUR INFORMATIONAL HORIZON TO STOP/CEASE/DESTROY THE LONG NIGHT/THE CYCLE. TO THAT END WE HAVE WORKED TO GRANT YOU AID, MOSTLY IN THE FORM OF INFORMATION AS THE CYCLE SEEMS ADEPT AT INTERCEPTING COMPLEX TOOLS OR WEAPONS FROM ONE ERA TO THE NEXT.'

Joffrey shook his head again, holding it with his hands, "No… no," he whispered, "This doesn't make any sense, how can you see possible futures… and plural at that?!" He asked himself in supreme confusion, unable to stop reading.

'KEEP IN MIND: EVEN THOUGH YOUR ERA IS CLEARER TO US THAN ANY OTHER WE'VE OBSERVED BEFORE, OUR INFORMATION OF IT AND YOURSELF STILL LIES 'FOGGED' AND HEAVILY INTERFERED WITH. THERE ARE EXTREMELY FEW GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATIONS WHICH WE CAN OBSERVE DIRECTLY AND SOMEWHAT CONTINUALLY FROM OUR ERA TO YOURS, AND LOCATIONS WHICH ARE ALSO ACCESSIBLE TO YOU IN SOME MANNER ARE EVEN RARER. THIS IS IMPORTANT BECAUSE WITHOUT VISION WE CAN NOT GUARANTEE THAT WHATEVER INFORMATION WE'VE EMPLACED UPON THEM SHALL SURVIVE TO YOUR TIMES. THESE LOCATIONS ARE THE PLACES UPON WHICH WE HAVE CONSTRUCTED THE WAYPOINTS THAT ULTIMATELY GUIDED YOU HERE: THE LOCATION WHICH POSSESSES THE LEAST AMOUNT OF INTERFERENCE. EXPLANATION: THIS GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATION PROVIDES AN EVEN MORE DEFINITE VANTAGE POINT WITHIN YOUR ALREADY HIGHLY VISIBLE ERA, WHICH IS THE REASON WE CAN HEAR YOUR QUESTIONS CLEARLY. THIS ALSO MEANS WE CAN POSITION THE SLABS THAT HOLD THESE ANSWERS AS PRECISELY AS POSSIBLE WITHIN THE STRUCTURE, AIMING FOR THE EXTREMELY SCARCE LOCATIONS WHICH WE CAN BE CERTAIN SHALL SUFFER LITTLE DETERIORATION THROUGHOUT THE PASSAGE OF THE AGES.

OTHER MEANS TO CONTACT YOU BEYOND THIS LINE OF INQUIRY HAVE BEEN ATTEMPTED, BUT MOST HAVE RESULTED IN FAILURES. THE BONE TABLET AND ITS ACCOMPANYING MODIFICATIONS TO YOUR ESSENCE/SOUL WERE OUR DOING, A DESPERATE SECONDARY PLAN IN CASE THIS PARTICULAR FUTURE, -WHERE YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY FOLLOWED THE WAYPOINTS AND THIS STRUCTURE HAS ENDURED IN TIME-, WAS NOT TO BE/WAS DIVERTED/DID NOT PREDOMINATE. SUCH PLAN WILL BE TURNED OBSOLETE WITH THE INFORMATION THAT WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU BY THE END OF OUR EXCHANGE. A REPETITION IS UNLIKELY, FOR MORE THAN HALF OUR NUMBER WERE ESSENCE-HOLLOWED/SYPHONED DURING THE TABLET'S TRANSPOSITION, AND WE HAVE NOT THE REMAINING STRENGTH TO DO IT AGAIN.'

"Half your number… half your number of what?" Joffrey whispered as he stared at the wall, "Of your team? Of your sorcerers…" he trailed off, a sudden shiver raising the hairs at the nape of his neck, "Of your species?" he whispered.

'WHY: OUR REASONS ARE COMPLICATED AND A PROPER EXPLANATION WOULD CONSUME MORE DATA THAN WHICH HAS BEEN ALLOTTED FOR THIS COMPLEX. ULTIMATELY, OUR RACE AND CIVILIZATION WILL SOON BE NO MORE, FOR REASONS INDEPENDENT OF THE LONG NIGHT AND WHOLLY OUR OWN. IT IS OUR WISH THAT THE LIGHT OF CONSCIOUSNESS WILL ENDURE BEYOND THIS PLANET, AND FOR THIS YOU ARE OUR TOOL AND HOPE AS MUCH AS YOU ARE THE PURPLE'S. IN THE END, LINE OF INQUIRY IRRELEVANT.

WE RECOMMEND YOU USE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO ARM YOURSELF WITH AS MUCH RELEVANT INFORMATION -AS YOU WOULD SEE IT- AS POSSIBLE. WE COULD FILL TRILLIONS OF THESE CAVES IF WE HAD THE SPACE/RESOURCES FOR IT, AND STILL KNOWLEDGE WOULD BE LOST: ONLY YOU, WITH FULL VISION OF YOUR ERA, CAN TELL US WHAT INFORMATION YOU NEED EXPANDED UPON.'

Joffrey was shaking his head harder and harder as the mural ended, holding his head with both hands and pulling his hair out, "NoNoNO! This doesn't make any sense!!!" he screamed before he raced back through the tunnel.

If they're watching the future like that then it means they already know what I'll say… destiny does exist and nothing I do fucking matters! He thought, crazed as he sprinted out of the second tunnel and into the third, quickly reaching the black slab and pulling it with all his strength.

He screamed as he pulled, a scream of rage and angst as the black slab fell, revealing the black mural behind.

A black mural smooth as a pond, with not a single word etched upon it.

Joffrey shook his head like a dog with a rat, feeling the smooth stone with his hand over and over. He gazed again at the blank wall, confused and bereft of understanding as his other hand held his mouth.

So I do have agency? Because I didn't say anything then nothing appeared on the mural… but then how could they know I'd end up here in the first place?! He asked himself in frustration. It doesn't make any sense, he repeated inside his head, walking compulsively up and down the partly collapsed hallway. How can they see but not see the future?! Can there be such a thing as multiple futures? Is the Purple working under that assumption?! The questions threatened to overwhelm him as he walked back, his nails almost raking his face.

He finally gave up as he collapsed on the ground of the Chamber, taking deep gulps of air as he closed his eyes, centering himself.

In…

…

Out…

…

In…

…

Out…

…

In…

…

Out…

…

He opened his eyes slowly, gazing at the black pillars. Maybe it was arrogance to try to comprehend such an incredibly complicated, complex thing. Maybe it was sheer human nature to be curious even if it made one mad… maybe his mind just wasn't built to comprehend the eldritch methods by which they had managed to set up the elaborate scheme to get him here…

Does it matter, in the end? He asked himself truthfully, gazing at the remaining hallways.

Yes, it does… Came the answer… but not more than the End of All Things and the destruction of everyone he'd ever loved, everyone's he'd ever hated, everyone he's ever seen or heard about, every living being which fulfills the extermination criteria of the Walkers, from Andals to First Men to Ibbenese to Brindled Men to Shrykes and who knew what else, perhaps not even the trees would live, in the end.

Joffrey stood up, the upheaval of emotions fading away he felt the weight of not only humanity but those that had come before and those who will come after. He felt the weight increase… and increase, and increase, and increase like never before until something inside him broke and a strange sort of serenity filled him.

The weight of worlds unending… there was a strange sort of honor there, a sort of Duty which dwarfed even the load he'd carried as Dawn Commander. A duty which elevated him as much as it crushed him, a purpose wrought into the creation of his very soul. He was a weapon created by eldritch might more potent than a million trillion Shadowbinders. He was the Hope for Tomorrow.

He was Dawn, and the trillions upon trillions of those already perished and trillions upon trillions of those yet to be born… he decided right then and there: they would not find him wanting.

"Still We Stand," He whispered suddenly.

The Structure echoed his oath back, down through the tunnels and up through the Triangle in a repeating pattern, 'STILLWESTANDSTILLWESTANDStillWeStandStillWeStandstillwestandstillwestandstillwestand…' it reverberated through the halls.

He was breathing hard, staring fixedly ahead, his eyes red as he remembered an old battlecry, one he'd abandoned as he lost his will. "For the Living," he whispered, his voice raw but firm to his ears. It was not an exaltation, not a denial, but acceptance.

The crushing emptiness that had plagued him for lives now still remained, eating at him, consuming him… but he let it in. He stopped fighting it even as he accepted it. If this was his purpose, then so be it. If he finished his transformation into a hollowed out husk of a man, then so be it. He would keep going come magic or intrigue, despair or self-loathing, as he'd promised himself before but failed. He would accept the suffering and the horror, for there was no escaping it. He would die fulfilling his duty as Ned would have wanted, as Yham and Shah and Jin and Jhos and all the others would have wanted, like all the versions of Tyrion and Sandor that he'd never see again would have wanted… And if he failed, then he would have his rest anyway.

Joffrey would have lied if he'd said the prospect didn't fill him with horror, with a harrowing, choking dread, the prospect of continuing with the curse, to be forgotten by friends and family and comrades in arm, to return again and again and again to the body of a simpering, pathetic sadist, the prospect of continuing his cycle of war and death and anguish and physical torment… but the prospect that it would end, even if with him gaping at a Walker sword as it pierced his heart, gave him some strange sort of serenity which had been missing before. If he fell apart… as he fell apart, he'd do so while fulfilling his duty. His purpose.

Joffrey wiped the lone tear from his cheek, taking another breath before gazing up. If he was to fulfill his purpose, then he'd need knowledge, knowledge of his enemies. To know that which one fought was wisdom older than man, and he didn't need a celebrated general's sayings to understand that.

He paced around the Chamber as his eyes narrowed, thinking hard as he stopped thinking like a man and started thinking as a weapon should, for that he was.

"I need more general information… In practical terms, how does The Cycle work from beginning to end? I need information on its patterns, as well as whatever weaknesses you know of, both tactical and strategic," he asked the Past.

He followed the path of the third tunnel, and came upon the fallen slab and the barren black wall, same as he'd left it a moment before.

He stared at it, confused before he nodded, No, it makes sense… or should make sense, in a twisted sort of way… I've already opened and wasted this potential answer… I should check the fourth hallway.

He shook his head as he emerged from the third and walked through the winding path of the fourth hallway, realizing that for the first time in years, lives… for the first time in a long while, his actions had consequences that extended beyond a particular life. The answers the… he supposed Deep Ones was a name as fitting as any other… The burial of answers the Deep Ones would carry out was outside and beyond the scope of the Purple, beyond the resetting of the World. He would have only these few answers and then one last question for the fifth hallway… after that, no more.

He held his breath as the fourth slab fell to the ground, and he opened himself conceptually to the knowledge of those that came before.

'CONVENTIONAL TACTICAL WEAKNESSES: THE CYCLE ITSELF SEEMS INVULNERABLE TO WEAPONRY FAR IN ADVANCED OF WHAT EVEN OUR CIVILIZATION IS CURRENTLY CAPABLE OF, BUT ITS PLATFORMS CAN BE EFFECTIVELY COUNTERED IN A MANNER OF WAYS. SEVERAL DISTINCT FORMS OF DIRECTED ENERGY MANIPULATION, WHAT YOUR CIVILIZATION HAS GROUPED UNDER THE TERM 'MAGIC', CAN PIERCE ANY PLATFORM'S ARMOR AND DISRUPT ITS CONNECTION TO THE CYCLE. CERTAIN MOLECULAR STRUCTURES CAN ALSO ACHIEVE THIS, THOUGH ALL BUT OBSIDIAN ARE TOO UNSTABLE FOR PRACTICAL USE. BEING AN EXTREMELY ENERGY CONSCIOUS CONSTRUCT, THE CYCLE'S PLATFORMS CAN BE INDUCED TO RETREAT MOMENTARILY IF IT DEEMS ITS ENERGY LOSS AS GRAVER THAN ITS ESTIMATED BATTLEFIELD GAIN, THOUGH FREQUENT USE OF THIS TACTIC WILL EVENTUALLY MEAN AN ESCALATION OF FORCE. SUFFICIENT BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA CAN ALSO RENDER ITS PLATFORMS INOPERABLE, THOUGH THE AMOUNT OF FORCE NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE A MISSION-KILL IS LIKELY TO INCREASE AFTER EACH ESCALATION.'

'CONVENTIONAL STRATEGIC WEAKNESSES: IN MANY WAYS, THE CYCLE IS A THING BEYOND OUR MEANS OF UNDERSTANDING, WITH MANY SUB PROCESSES RUNNING IN PARALLEL ACROSS THE PLANAR SPECTRUM. IT IS EVEN POSSIBLE THAT METHODICAL XENOCIDE BE A MERE SIDE EFFECT OF ITS ACTUAL PURPOSE. REGARDLESS, IT IS USEFUL TO NOTE THE LACK OF HIGHER DIRECTION IN THE CYCLE'S PATTERNS, WHICH SEEM TOO RIGID AND INFLEXIBLE TO ACCOUNT FOR SENTIENCE. IN THIS SENSE, YOU COULD LIKEN THE CYCLE TO A MACHINE WITH ONLY A LIMITED NUMBER OF PROBLEM SOLVING SOLUTIONS. THIS CAN MAKE IT PREDICTABLE, AND MANY VICTIMS OF THE CYCLE HAVE SUCCEEDED IN SLOWING DOWN ITS PURPOSE WITH LATERAL-THINKING STRATEGIES AND TACTICS, WHICH THE LONG NIGHT SEEMS ILL-EQUIPPED TO HANDLE IF IT HAS NOT ENCOUNTERED THEM BEFORE IN THAT VERY SAME CYCLE, FALLING BACK ON BRUTE-FORCE ESCALATION IF RESISTANCE PROVES TOO EFFECTIVE. THE CYCLE CAREFULLY HUSBANDS ITS ENERGY, AND SEEMS SLOW TO ESCALATE THE POWER OF ITS WEAPONRY AS LONG AS ITS CURRENT STRATEGY STILL SUCCEEDS MORE THAN IT FAILS. THIS FACT CAN BE USED TO DRAG OUT AN EXTERMINATION AND BUY TIME FOR OTHER STRATAGEMS TO ENTER THE STRUGGLE, THOUGH THERE IS ALWAYS A LIMIT. WE SUSPECT THE LONG NIGHT HOLDS NO ACTUAL MEMORIES OF PREVIOUS EXTERMINATIONS/ERAS, AND IN A SENSE NEVER 'LEARNS' BEYOND WHAT IT ENCOUNTER DURING THE CYCLE AT HAND.'

"A machine," whispered Joffrey, mind heavy as he processed what he read, "A great piece of machinery with no operator, spinning and spinning through eons unending…" he trailed off, his mind staggering under the implications. The White Walkers had always seemed strangely mechanical to him, as if their souls were but pipes and valves with single minded purpose… It made sense now.

'SIMPLIFICATION: THE CYCLE OPERATES ON A TWO STAGE PROCESS ONCE ITS PROGRAMMING HAS DEEMED THE WORLD'S CURRENT BIOSPHERE AS DUE FOR EXTINCTION. THE FIRST STAGE IS ONE OF CALIBRATION, AS THE CYCLE MATERIALIZES MEASURING INSTRUMENTS ALONG THE PLANET'S NORTH POLE, FEEDING ON THE LEYLINES WHICH NATURALLY FLOW THROUGH ITS AXIS. THESE MEASURING INSTRUMENTS SUBVERT THE LOCAL INHABITANTS, USING THEM AS SCOUTING PLATFORMS TO CONFIRM THE STATE OF THE WORLD AND ITS FLORA AND FAUNA. THIS IS ALMOST ALWAYS A VIOLENT PROCESS, AND IN MOST CASES WILL BE ENOUGH TO EXTERMINATE THE LOCAL BIOSPHERE WITHOUT NEED FOR FURTHER ACTION.'

Joffrey found he couldn't breathe, his hand slowly making his way up to his mouth with a will of his own.

'IF THE EXTERMINATION ORDER IS CONFIRMED AND THE TARGET SPECIES' STILL LIVE, THE SCOUTING PLATFORMS WILL RETURN TO THE NORTH POLE AND HIBERNATE, LIMITING THEIR ACTIVITIES TO ONLY A FEW SUB PROCESSES, OF WHICH WE KNOW LITTLE ABOUT. WE KNOW A SIGNAL WILL BE SENT TO DEEP SPACE WHERE THE CYCLE'S PHYSICAL ENERGY REPOSITORY LIES DORMANT, ACTIVATING ITS ONBOARD PROPULSION SYSTEM AND SETTING COURSE FOR THIS PLANET'S ORBIT, A JOURNEY WHICH MAY TAKE THOUSANDS OF YEARS. ITS ARRIVAL ALWAYS HERALDS THE BEGINNING OF STAGE TWO.'

"… The Red Comet…" Joffrey realized in horror, trembling lantern illuminating the black words.

'ONCE THE REPOSITORY IS WITHIN RANGE OF THE PLANET, IT WILL BEGIN TRANSFERRING ITS VAST STORES OF ENERGY TO THE CYCLE'S CURRENT PLATFORMS BY MEANS UNKNOWN, WHO WILL THEN MAKE USE OF IT AUTONOMOUSLY FOR A VARIETY OF TASKS, SUCH AS THE MANIPULATION OF THE PLANET'S CLIMATE IN STRATEGIC AND TACTICAL ROLES, THE REANIMATION OF PROGRESSIVELY OLDER CORPSES, AND THE CREATION OF MORE STANDARD AND SPECIALIZED PLATFORMS TO CARRY OUT ITS DESIGNS. WHAT COMES NEXT VARIES GREATLY DEPENDING ON THE PLANET'S CURRENT INHABITANTS, BUT IN DUE TIME THE OUTCOME IS THE SAME: EXTINCTION. THE CYCLE'S MOBILE PLATFORMS WILL ADVANCE METHODICALLY FROM THE NORTH POLE, SLAYING LIVING ORGANISMS AND USING THEIR REMAINING ESSENCE TO REANIMATE THEIR CORPSES TO SERVE AS LIGHT INFANTRY OR SHOCK TROOPS, DEPENDING ON THE CORPSE IN QUESTION, ESCALATING ENERGY USE IF NECESSARY UNTIL ALL OBJECTIVES HAVE BEEN MET. EVENTUALLY, ALL TARGETED LIFE ON THE SURFACE AND SUBSURFACE WILL BE ANNIHILATED AND THE PLANET WILL IN ALL LIKELIHOOD ENTER AN ARTIFICIAL ICE AGE. THE VAST LEGIONS OF MOBILE PLATFORMS WHICH HAVE BEEN FORMED UP TILL NOW WILL DISSIPATE AND BE RECYCLED BACK INTO THE REPOSITORY, WHICH WILL THEN DEPART THIS PLANET'S ORBIT AND SET COURSE FOR A RANDOMIZED LOCATION IN DEEP SPACE WITHIN THE VICINITY OF THIS SOLAR SYSTEM'.

As he read the final sections of the paragraph, Joffrey imagined vast legions of Walkers gazing up at the sky, all over a silent, dead world filled with white… Staring silently at the fading form of the Red Comet as they melted into nothing.

"Gods…" he whispered, the word harsh in the midst of the quiet. He had long since left the realm of Gods and jumped into the abyss of things infinitely greater in scope and purpose, never to return.

"The First War for Dawn… The Children and the Heroes of the First Age… they were fighting their scouts…" he whispered in horrifying awe, his heart slamming into his rib cage as his throat was squeezed as if by a ghost, "They survived the First Stage, but now The Second Stage… oh gods…" he choked.

Joffrey walked out of the tunnel as if in a daze… he had accepted his purpose, but…

What can a man do against such cosmic power? Against a sort of construct which has endured eons unending… a construct which touched the stars themselves and the veils beyond… he thought, his eyes closed as he held his head with one hand, leaning on the edge of the Chamber. He felt for the presence of his soul, grabbing it and giving it form as he breathed. He smiled sadly as he kneeled and hugged Star's silvery white mane, scratching its neck as the lion purred in satisfaction.

… But I'm not a man, am I? I am 'part' of the Purple, part of a Weapon created to end cosmic power… however incomplete I am, there has to be a way… he thought as Stars keened.

He sat in the Chambers' floor, gazing at the remaining hallway, Stars' comforting presence by his side as the silver lion licked his vaguely red claws. He was still alone in a sense, as he'd long ago understood that Stars was but part of his soul given physical form, but the Silver Lion had a strange sort of majesty which soothed him anyway.

He returned Stars back inside him with a deep breath and a long blink of his eyes before he exhausted himself more than he already was, thinking hard about his remaining questions. One last answer awaited, and he took his time formulating what he needed to know.

He took another deep breath, gazing upwards as he spoke, "You said that I am but a part of an incomplete weapon, The Purple, designed to end The Cycle… what does that mean? How is the Purple supposed to work? I need you to tell me what is missing from it, how I can fix it, and how to end the Cycle permanently," he asked with a strong, clear voice, all questions ultimately aiming for the same comprehensive answer.

Tell me what to do, tell me how to kill them, he thought as he strode down the fifth and final hallway, arriving at the mural and pulling the black slab with a grunt of decisive effort.

'THE PURPLE SHADOWS THE LONG NIGHT AND OPERATES ON ITS OWN TWO STAGE PROCESS, FORMING ITS OFFENSIVE WEAPONRY AT THE EARLY ONSET OF EACH STAGE AND MAKING USE OF THE HEAVY DISRUPTION CAUSED BY THE CYCLE TO DO SO UNOPPOSED. EACH ITERATION HAS ITS OWN TASK. THE FIRST ONE'S GOAL SEEMS TO BE THE SURVIVAL OF ITS SPECIES AGAINST THE SCOUTING PLATFORMS, ENSURING MOBILIZATION OF THE CYCLE'S PHYSICAL ENERGY REPOSITORY. IF SUCCESSFUL, THE PURPLE WILL HIBERNATE UNTIL THE REPOSITORY BEGINS ITS FINAL APPROACH TO THIS SOLAR SYSTEM, AND CREATE ITS STAGE TWO WEAPONRY, ENGINEERED TO END THE CYCLE PERMANENTLY BY SOME METHOD WHOSE SPECIFICS ARE CLOUDED FROM OUR SIGHT. IT IS HERE THAT THE PURPLE SHOWS SIGNS OF DISRUPTION/RUSHED WORK/UNFINISHED CREATION, AS ITS VARIOUS MODULES AND MAIN ARMAMENT SEEMS SPLINTERED AND DISCONNECTED. ALL OUR EFFORTS AND INTERVENTIONS WITHIN YOUR ERA HAVE BEEN AIMED AT REPAIRING IT, SO THAT THIS CYCLE MAY BE THE LAST.'

THE PURPLE'S MAIN ARMAMENT/YOU SEEMS TO BE PRECISELY ENGINEERED AS A SORT OF DISRUPTION/SCRAMBLING WEAPON, DESIGNED TO INTERFERE IN SOME WAY WITH THE TRANSFER OF ENERGY FROM REPOSITORY TO MOBILE PLATFORMS, MANIPULATING IT IN SOME MANNER. THE SPECIFICS ARE CLOUDED BEYOND OUR SIGHT, BUT WE KNOW THAT SEVERAL PIECES OF THE PURPLE ARE EITHER MISSING OR DISCONNECTED FROM EACH OTHER. THERE ARE TWO MODULES WHICH BOTH FIT THIS CRITERIA AND ARE ALSO INDISPENSABLE FOR THE ACTIVATION OF THE PURPLE'S MAIN ARMAMENT. ONE IS A CONNECTOR MODULE, A PHYSICAL AND PLANAR TOOL DESIGNED TO ESTABLISH DIRECT, CONTROLLED CONNECTIONS WITH OBJECTS IN THE THEATER OF OPERATIONS. THIS PIECE WAS NEVER CREATED/SUFFERED EXISTENCE FAILURE, BUT WE HAVE FOUND A REASONABLE SUBSTITUTE IN THE FORM OF-

"Brightroar," said Joffrey aloud, nodding.

AN ANCESTRAL FAMILY SWORD OF YOUR BLOODLINE, PRE-ATTUNED TO YOU AND ALREADY PRIMED IN CERTAIN PLANAR ENERGIES, WHICH YOU HAVE ALREADY RETRIEVED AND ANCHORED. IT IS POSSIBLE THE CONNECTOR TOOL SERVES AS THE VECTOR OF ATTACK AGAINST THE CYCLE ITSELF, A PIERCING NEEDLE INTO ITS FUNCTIONING SO THAT THE MAIN ARMAMENT/YOU CAN ACTIVATE, BUT WE ARE NOT CERTAIN. IN THE END, ONLY SELF EXPLORATION CAN ANSWER THIS IN A SATISFACTORY MANNER. THE SECOND CRITICAL COMPONENT WAS DESIGNED AND CREATED SUCCESSFULLY, BUT ITS ANCHORING PROCESS FAILED AND NOW LIES DORMANT AND SEVERED FROM THE CLUSTER OF MAIN COMPONENTS/YOU, LIKELY DUE TO THE CONNECTOR TOOL'S EXISTENCE FAILURE, WHICH ALSO SERVED A ROLE AS BRIDGE BETWEEN THE TWO PARTS. ITS PRIMARY PURPOSE SEEMS TO BE THAT OF AN AUTONOMOUS DEFENSE ADMINISTRATOR, INDEPENDENTLY DEFENDING THE MAIN ARMAMENT/YOU FROM EVENTUAL RETALIATION BY THE CYCLE WHEN ENGAGED IN PRIMARY WEAPON ACTIVATION.

"Autonomous Defense Administrator? Something which would shield me from retaliation while I somehow mess with the Cycle's energy?" Joffrey muttered, frowning. He didn't want to know how the Cycle would retaliate if he messed with it, and the fact that he'd apparently need something else like Brightroar but somehow more independent just reinforced that fact.

Autonomous… Independent… Am I going to have to anchor some sort of haunted, thinking item to my soul? I hope at least that the Purple will have materialized it somewhere fucking accessible… knowing my luck, it'll be stranded beyond the Thousand Islands…

He wondered what might have happened to his mighty creators that made them build a partly disassembled and damaged weapon, before he shook his head and kept reading.

'THIS MODULE IS ANOTHER SENTIENT BEING OF YOUR SPECIES, AND THE SAME SPECIFIC ESSENCE/PLANAR WAVELENGTHS/ENERGY MACRO-CHARACTERISTICS THAT WENT INTO YOUR CREATION WENT INTO IT. THIS SHOULD RESULT IN STRONG EMOTIONAL FLUCTUATIONS BEYOND OPERATING PARAMETERS FOR A MEMBER OF YOUR SPECIES WHEN IN ITS VICINITY, WHETHER PHYSICAL OR IN MEMORY, FOR YOU AND IT BOTH. THIS SHOULD HELP IN ITS IDENTIFICATION. IF YOU HAVE ALREADY MET IT, THEN ITS IDENTITY SHOULD BE OBVIOUS TO YOU AS OF THIS MOMENT.

Joffrey staggered back as if he'd been struck, clutching his belly as he shook his head like a madman.

Curse another person with the Purple?!?!

"No. NO! NEVER!!! YOU HEAR ME?! ARE YOU HEARING ME YOU FUCKING SQUIDS?! NEVER! NEVEEER!!!!" He roared manically, the walls closing in on him as he breathed every half second, feeling nauseated as a desperate urge to escape somewhere, anywhere, assaulted him, the tunnel feeling so constricted as to shove the air out of his lungs.

No, I'd never to that, no…. no...

His vision was steadily reduced to a pinprick as he read the words again and again, fighting the urge to run with all his might even as he felt dizzy.

'IF YOU HAVE ALREADY MET IT, ITS IDENTITY SHOULD BE OBVIOUS TO YOU'. He read again, a choking dread seizing his neck as his mind turned to the question, the question whose answer he already knew to be true, an instinct deep in his bones.

Who?

Sansa of course, the answer came in an instant, not a hint of doubt as his soul thrummed in agreement.

I love her, he thought, bile creeping up his throat as he staggered and his heart drowned his ears, I love her because we are parts of the same mechanism, I love her by the eldritch will of the Purple, I love her because I was engineered to do so, he thought as he kneeled, vomiting water and barely any food, the anguish so overwhelming he collapsed on his side, darkness claiming him.

-.PD.-

Joffrey didn't know how much time he spent in that hallway, and in what state. The lantern's oil supply had run out, and sometimes he didn't know if he was still conscious or trapped in the depths of his mind... His mind… it was a curious thing, swirling as if trapped by some sort of vortex, spinning endlessly around the same thought.

Sansa was the 'Autonomous defense administrator', a sort of defensive counterpart to him… Which would enable him to manipulate Long Night's energy without said Long Night retaliation presumably stopping the process… if he understood correctly, however the fucking hells he was supposed to achieve that. She was a missing piece of the Purple, a missing component for an eldritch weapon… he wouldn't believe it if not for the bone deep, no… soul deep certainty burning darkly within him. He supposed he was not really in… both of them were not really in love. Love was supposed to have a romantic element, not this twisted, horrifying edict. That was a human concept, something both lesser and greater than what he… and her too, he supposed, felt… and they were not human, not really. Love was a human concept, supposed to be something more…organic… something truer… not this farce.

Joffrey had not a clue what 'Planar Wavelengths' and 'Energy Macro-Characteristic' were, but to him it all sounded as if they'd been cut from the same cloth. Those tender, strangely timeless moments with her which had soothed his frayed mind back during the Hand's Tourney, back in Winterfell before the Broken Knights, back in the Red Keep's Godswood… they had not been due to the simple human companionship of two friends, they had been due to some sort of twisted… resonance maybe? Like two tuning forks vibrating together.

He had an ugly, despairing sort of laugh when he realized Sansa's maiden tales had been right all along. They shared the closest thing to a soul bond in real life… that was one way of looking at it. The other was that they were two pieces of machinery which had had an artificial directive implanted on their minds from their moment of creation, forcibly molding their thought patterns so overall weapon efficiency was not compromised…

Gods… no wonder she's attracted to a sadist imbecile… that would certainly take some mind meddling… he thought darkly.

No, that's unfair, he amended, She doesn't even get to know me each life before falling madly in 'love'… I'd thought that was because she saw me as the 'handsome prince' come to take her away from dreary Winterfell and into the world of colorful tourneys and chivalrous knights… fucking maiden's tales…

The truth had been much darker.

He was also being a bit of a hypocrite… after all, he counted her amongst his most cherished friends, people with whom he'd bled and cried through multiple lives… even thought he'd spent but a small fraction of that time with her. He knew more about Nalia, a woman which had shared her bed with him, and nonetheless his feelings for Sansa dwarfed that of hers even if he forgot about the spying.

How convenient… the prince of the realm as one part and his betrothed-to-be as the other, two weapon parts perfectly positioned... he thought as he shook his head. Exactly how strongly had the Purple meddled with the world while in the process of creating him and Sansa? Had it seen the near future and planned accordingly? Had it caused the Rebellion so its pieces would fall in place perfectly, having its two main weapon parts as King and Queen of one of the World's largest polities just before the next Cycle? Or had it just worked with what it found, mere chance perhaps? Had it caused the Doom of Valyria so Aegon Targeryean decided to conquer the Seven Kingdoms and set the stage for its designs? Could it even understand concepts such as kingdoms and individual motivations? It seemed to be a 'machine' for a given value of the word, but machines could be smart enough to end worlds, as he now knew.

Ultimately, Joffrey realized all of this pointless mental spinning was due to a simple fact: he didn't want to face the decision that was to come. In the end, he had already accepted himself as a cog in a greater mechanism. He'd already given himself to the Purple, to be used and discarded for merciful oblivion. So what if his mind had been tampered by the Purple? He'd suffered far worse throughout his lives. He felt horrified on Sansa's behalf, more than he could put into words, but ultimately the world was a cruel and cold place… and again, there were far worse fates than having a part of your will suborned, even if it meant attraction to a hollowed out beast liable to hurt you even if he didn't mean it.

No… what threatened to make him scream and tear his nails off was the prospect of inflicting the Purple on someone, least of all Sansa.

Sansa under the torment of the Purple-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" He suddenly screamed, trying to do something with the despair which had lodged itself on to his chest. His scream faded and rebounded, becoming muted as it turned recursive, slowly dissipating into nothing…

So slowly…

At least now he knew himself to be awake. No other place had such a terrible echo, not even his nightmares.

There was no escaping it. He had a choice.

Either to inflict on Sansa the worst torture imaginable to a sentient being, from terrible, nerve burning agony to mind breaking loneliness and despair, or to leave the Purple's weapon incomplete and see everything and everyone, including her, be cleansed by The Cycle.

"FUUUUUUUUCK!" he screamed as he shuffled back into his knees. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" He roared as he slammed his fists against the cold hard ground.

How can they make me do this? How can they expect me to make this choice?!

"AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaa…." The last scream lost intensity as he leaned back, resting on his knees as he stared up.

I've given you everything… how can you ask this of me…

He stayed there for a while, staring at the black ceiling.

He gave a long sigh after a while, shaking his head slowly before searching blindly for his lantern and the last small wineskin full of oil, halfheartedly refueling it. He had to finish reading his answers, at the very least.

He breathed slowly as he returned to the mural and read its final words, red eyes following the words of the Ones Which Came Before.

'ACHIEVING UNITY WITH THE MODULE SHOULD BE COMPARATIVELY SIMPLE AFTER EXPLORATION OF BOTH SELF AND CONNECTOR TOOL, AS YOU WERE ULTIMATELY DESIGNED TO FULFILL THIS TASK, REGARDLESS OF THE FACT THAT THIS SHOULD HAVE OCCURRED AUTOMATICALLY AND IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PROCESS OF CREATION. ALL OTHER MISSING COMPONENTS ARE NOT SENTIENT, AND ULTIMATELY SUFFERED EXISTENCE FAILURE, SAME AS WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CONNECTOR TOOL. UNLIKE THE CONNECTOR TOOL HOWEVER, WE ESTIMATE THE MISSING MODULES' REPLACEMENT COSTS AS TOO PROHIBITIVE FOR THEIR PROSPECTIVE GAINS, WHICH SEEM CENTERED AROUND SECONDARY OBJECTIVES AND THUS NOT PART OF THE MAIN ARMAMENT. WE RECOMMEND AGAINST DANGEROUS SELF AND/OR IMPROVISED REPAIR, AS THE PURPLE CAN BE SURPRISINGLY FRAGILE.'

"That's news to me…" he commented bitterly as he kept reading.

'SOME MODULES ACHIEVED BOTH CREATION AND ANCHORING, BUT REMAIN INACTIVE UNLESS PROMPTED. THIS IS THE CASE OF THE SEMI AUTONOMOUS OFFENSIVE PLATFORM YOU REFER TO AS 'STARS'. FURTHER SELF EXPLORATION CAN RESULT IN THE DISCOVERY OF THE REMAINING ANCHORED MODULES, THOUGH THIS CAN BE AN EXTREMELY SLOW PROCESS. SUPREMELY DETAILED, DRAWN APPROXIMATIONS OF THEIR STRUCTURES WITHIN YOUR ESSENCE/SOUL, AS THE BONE TABLET WAS TO THE CONNECTOR TOOL'S ANCHOR, CAN AID IN THIS ENDEAVOR. HOWEVER, THE DELICATE AND PRECISE NATURE OF SUCH SCHEMATICS MAKES THEM UNSUITABLE FOR ENTOMBMENT WITHIN THIS COMPLEX, AS UNLIKE SIMPLE LETTERS, THE APPROXIMATIONS NEED TO REMAIN COMPLETELY WHOLE TO BE UNDERSTOOD/BE OF USE. ULTIMATELY, THE REMAINING ANCHORED MODULES ARE NOT STRICTLY NECESSARY FOR THE PRIMING OF THE PURPLE'S MAIN ARMAMENT, AND THEIR SALVAGE CAN BE CONSIDERED A SECONDARY OBJECTIVE TO YOUR OPERATIONS. A SECONDARY MISSION-GROUP WITH A CORRESPONDINGLY LESSER ENERGY ALLOTMENT HAVE NONETHELESS SOUGHT A RESOLUTION TO THIS OBSTACLE, TRYING TO BRUTE FORCE THE SLIM POSSIBILITY OF ANY APPROXIMATION MAKING IT WHOLE TO YOUR ERA BY SEEDING A VAST NUMBER OF THEM THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE WORLD. THIS SEEDING IS COMPOSED OF REINFORCED SEA-DRIFTING TIME CAPSULES, AS WELL AS A VAST LAND-BOUND NETWORK OF SCHEMATICS-BEARING MONOLITHS. BE AWARE: ALL OR ALMOST ALL OF THEM ARE LIKELY TO BE LOST OR OTHERWISE BECOME ILLEGIBLE DUE TO THE RAVAGES OF TIME AND CIRCUMSTANCE.'

"The remains of that black obelisk back in the Westerlands…" Joffrey whispered dryly, his mouth parched, "It must have been part of that network…" he said as he imagined hundreds, thousands of them spanning the continents. It seemed none of them had endured the strife of the ages... just his luck.

'WE KNOW LITTLE OF THE MAIN ARMAMENT'S PRACTICAL OPERATION, THOUGH WE BELIEVE A PHYSICAL CONNECTION TO ITS TARGET –THROUGH THE CONNECTOR MODULE- IS NECESSARY FOR ACTIVATION. THE SPECIFIC TARGET OF THIS CONNECTION REMAINS UNKNOWN TO US, AND COULD RANGE FROM ONE OF THE CYCLE'S SPECIFIC MOBILE PLATFORMS, TO THE REPOSITORY ITSELF OR PERHAPS SOME OTHER CONSTRUCT WHICH WE ARE UNAWARE OF AT THIS POINT. REGARDLESS, NO KNOWN ITERATION HAS REACHED THIS POINT, AND WE CAN ONLY SPECULATE ON THE SPECIFICS OF ACTIVATION. WE ASSUME THIS IS ALSO SOMETHING WHICH CAN BE BETTER UNDERSTOOD BY SELF EXPLORATION, THOUGH THERE IS NO WAY TO BE CERTAIN.'

Joffrey hoped to the heavens he didn't have to stick Brightroar into the Red Comet itself, else he might as well find a Walker to commit 'unauthorized termination' on him right now and get it over with.

Gods… what a mess… he thought in familiar despair. It seemed the most familiar of emotions to him by now.

'THE DESIGNED INFORMATIONAL ALLOTMENT FOR THIS COMPLEX IS NEARING ITS END, BUT OUR CONSENSUS IS SECURE IN THE FACT THAT ALL MISSION CRITICAL KNOWLEDGE IN OUR POSSESSION -AS WE SEE IT- HAS BEEN DELIVERED UNTO YOU. THIS MAY BE DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND, BUT YOU ARE RAPIDLY NEARING THE INFORMATIONAL HORIZON OF OUR SIGHT, BEYOND WHICH ALL POSSIBLE FUTURES TURN IMPOSSIBLE TO OBSERVE. THIS MIGHT BE DUE TO ANY ONE OF A HUNDRED OR MORE CAUSES, BUT WE ESTIMATE THE POSSIBILITY OF THE CYCLE DETECTING OUR WORK AND ENGAGING SPOOFING COUNTERMEASURES AS HIGH. IF THIS IS THE CASE AND THE SPOOFING MEASURES DO NOT ABATE, THEN THE POSSIBILITY OF ANOTHER CIVILIZATION LIKE OUR OWN AIDING ANOTHER OF THE PURPLE'S ITERATIONS IN THE FAR FUTURE APPROACH ZERO. WITH THE PURPLE'S LACK OF AUTOMATED SELF REPAIR MECHANISMS, AND THE ABSENCE OF OTHER OUTSIDE FORCES TO AID WITH REPAIRS AND INFORMATION, THE CHANCES OF ANOTHER ITERATION BEYOND YOURSELF ACHIEVING MISSION READY STATUS ALSO APPROACH ZERO.'

Joffrey was reaching the end of the small, black wall. He blinked slowly as he read the last words of the Deep Ones, alien beings whose mindset he didn't and would likely never comprehend, beings which had nonetheless extended blessed aid through time and space. "A last chance for life…" He whispered as he shivered, reading his allies last will and testament, reading the last words from a civilization already long lost to the mists of time.

'JOFFREY, YOU MUST NOT FAIL. A SECONDARY MISSION-GROUP HAS CONSTRUCTED WHAT YOU COULD CALL A DISTRESS BEACON OF INTERSTELLAR RANGE, BUT NO BEING WILL ANSWER ITS CALL BEFORE YOUR ERA, AND THE PROBABILITY OF ANY RESPONSE AFTER IT APPROACHES ZERO AS WELL. WE HAVE NOT DETECTED SIGNS OF OTHER INTELLIGENT ORGANISMS ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE, AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF SENTIENT LIFE SEEMS TO BE AN ANOMALOUS PHENOMENA UNIQUE TO THIS PLANET FOR REASONS UNKNOWN. SUCH REASONS ARE LIKELY TO END OVER A LONG ENOUGH TIMESPAN IF THE CYCLE IS NOT STOPPED. STOP THE LONG NIGHT'

COMMUNICATIONS END.' It ended abruptly, thought there was something more, a few words here and there, smaller than the rest, chiseled messily and irregularly as they tried to squeeze themselves under the last line of the last paragraph.

'DO NOT LET - THE LIGHT OF - CONSCIOUSNESS – BE EXTINGUISHED. – FAREWELL.'

And like that, the message ended. Joffrey gazed at the chiseled line for a long while, tilted and halfway faded. He stayed there until the oil from his lantern slowly gave out, the Structure gradually sinking into a heavy darkness until nothing but a black, cloak like void could be seen.

-.PD.-