Ahh its finally done! Definitively got longer than I thought. Please Remember to Comment!-----

    Chapter 17: Red and Black and Purple.

    He visited the Hightower''s foundations ten more times, spent months studying the carving by day and having terrifying nightmares by night… and there was not a single extra clue.

    Not a single one.

    There was only the carving of a man or boy lost in what had to be the purple, though Joffrey was uncertain if it was supposed to represent be him, another person, or simply a symbolical placeholder.

    Whatever the answer was, one thing was clear. He shared, in some form he didn''t know yet, a connection with the ones who built the obelisks and the deepest bowels of the Hightower…. But whatever the carvings were supposed to mean or represent had been long lost to time… so much time…

    The book''s author had said that the only other place where he''d seen a similar mark had been in the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti… in its Capital City.

    Without even realizing it he had spent much more time than he should have studying the carving…. Far too long.

    The Tyrells were flipping Oldtown over, trying to find him.

    King Robert had died a couple of days ago.

    Joffrey took a deep breath, enjoying the seaward breeze from the top of the Hightower.

    He could already hear the pounding steps, getting progressively louder. It had only been a matter of time before House Hightower put 2 and 2 together and sent people up to get him…

    Not that he cared... There was nothing left for him in Oldtown.

    He stood at the top of the Hightower, looking as the sun slowly hid under the Sunset Sea, its orange light gradually diminishing.

    He took another look at the Whalebone tablet, staring at it with his whole being.

    "Is the answer in Yi-Ti?" he asked it softly as the wind picked up and the pounding footsteps crashed through a nearby door.

    The incredibly complicated rune stared back at him, silent.

    "Prince Joffrey! In the name of King Renly--" said a Knight, surrounded by a group or armsmen, but Joffrey didn''t hear them, he had only eyes for the tablet.

    He breathed in the sharp sea smell that reached him even here atop the Hightower, and closed his eyes.

    I will have answers.

    "Prince Joffrey!? Wh--"

    The voices faded away as he fell forwards, gravity accelerating him incredibly as he fell and fell and fell. Just as he heard the waves crashing against the sharp rocks of Battle Isle, the purple claimed him.

    -.PD.-

    Up…

    Down…

    Up…

    Down…

    The chainmail jingled at each repetition, as Joffrey hanged upside down from the tall closet, raising his head as if to touch his knees and then dropping down to his hanging position again.

    Faster, he thought as the sun kept retreating, slowly darkening the room.

    He doubled his pacing, chainmail jingling franticly and punctuated by his short, staccato breaths.

    Tock-Tock.

    Joffrey stopped.

    "Yes?" he asked, sweat pouring up his forehead to his hair and into the ground.

    "Prince Joffrey, its… your Father… there''s been a hunting accident" Said the Hound''s voice, slightly more sympathetic than usual.

    …Its time, he thought.

    "I''ll be right there" he said. He grabbed the closet''s upper end, where his knees were tucked, and let his knees go. They fell towards his torso, carrying it with their inertia as Joffrey flipped and let his hands go. He landed crouched on the floor, his body completely covered in a sheen of sweat. All around him and discarded around the room were books and tomes, most of them related to the East, the Jade Sea… and the Empire of Yi-Ti.

    Too soon… I thought I''d have more time… he thought as he took off the chainmail and put on a simple cloth shirt, with a small lion pin on the chest to make up for the lack of noble pomposity.

    He dried himself and took a long drink from the goblet on his desk, letting the water cool him from the inside out.

    Fate has a habit of rushing me at the worst of times… There''s no more time left…

    It''ll have to do, he thought with a nod to himself. Plan B will have to do…

    He strode out of his room at a brisk pace, up two sets of stairs and through the Red Keep''s various hallways. He stopped in front of Robert''s chambers, which were flanked by Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Boros Blunt, two very fitting examples of Robert''s legacy, he thought.

    They opened the door immediately, "He''s inside My Prince" said Greenfield.

    Inside the room, on the bed was King Robert Baratheon, pale and sweating like the pig which had gutted him. By his side and a bit to the back were Tommen and Myrcella, crying and holding on to Mother for dear life. When Cercei saw him she extended a hand, trying to console him and holding back crocodile tears, but Joffrey batted her hand away as he walked straight towards Robert.

    "Joffrey…" mumbled Robert when he saw him. "I''ve never… been a very good Father to you… I…" he struggled to say, but Joffrey shushed him.

    "I know, Father. I know… it''s not your fault… it was not your fault" he murmured as he discreetly opened one of his bandages a bit, evaluating the wound. Robert looked a bit confused as he gazed at Joffrey, blinking heavily. He slowly petted Robert''s forehead, removing a few of the sweat drenched tufts of hair and feeling his forehead for fever. "You were never meant for the Game Father… you were meant to ride and hunt and laugh free of the plotters and the backstabbers…" Joffrey muttered without thinking, feeling the searing heat on Robert''s forehead. "But you will do it soon… you''ll dream of riding and feasting and hunting" his voice hitched as he tried to feel Robert''s slow pulse by his wrist, "…and no one will seek to make you what you never wanted to be… you''ll be free" Joffrey muttered as he finally stepped back, his mind in the midst of diagnosis, not noticing the small pinpricks of water on the corners of his eyes.

    Joffrey nodded to himself as he finished. Robert was now sleeping, his form slowly rising and falling with each breath.

    The infection will have claimed him by tomorrow at dusk… but…

    He turned to Robert''s nightstand, and lifted a small milky vial.

    Way too much milk of the poppy… and Pycell will up the dosage again, no doubt…

    He''ll be dead by the hour of the owl...perfect timing for a deep night coup.

    He sighted sadly as he scratched the annoyingly small blond stubble on his chin, thinking.

    "What''s the matter? Where is the King?!" almost shouted the voice of Ned Stark. Boros Blount responded immediately as if rehearsed, "The King is very tired, my Lord Hand and--"

    "Let Lord Stark in, Ser Boros" said Joffrey without looking as he left the vial back on the nightstand.

    Ned passed by the startled Ser Boros quickly. Robert seemed to rise from the dead as he woke up at the name, a bit of his old daredevil personality came back at the sight of his oldest friend. "Ned! Come… come here… everyone out! I need to speak alone!" he said as he struggled to lift himself, quickly failing and leaning on the bed again.

    "Robert, you need to be with your children right now, wh-" Mother tried as always, but Robert was having none of that.

    Joffrey walked out before he was unceremoniously kicked, and quick walked towards the kitchens, not wasting a second.

    The servants were very startled when he appeared on the enormous kitchen. They were rushing to finish this night''s meal for the inhabitants of the Red Keep. Joffrey scanned the room for a moment until he found the face he wanted. He didn''t address him in any way however, he spoke out loud at seemingly all the servants and cooks.

    "I need a plate of greatwood deer, as soon as possible" he told them. The servants were a bit nonplussed at that, and some were nodding and turning (probably to go to King''s Landing''s trapper''s market) when one of the servants stepped forward.

    "Ahh… m''prince… would you want it rare or… medium?" he asked.

    "Blue rare… hells I need it raw" he said, dead serious.

    "R-raw?" he asked, a bit shocked. The other servants were cringing at the Royal questioning… or alternatively giving the man looks of pity.

    Joffrey nodded "Like right now" he said. "ah.. of course m''prince" he said as he bowed and left. The other servants looked at his retreating back with restrained anger, but unwilling to berate his recklessness in front of the Prince.

    "That will be all" he said as he turned back the way he came from. He almost ran to his room, but managed to contain it to a brisk walk.

    When he finally made it to his room, he quickly packed all the books into a long backpack which he slung across his back, followed by a few gold bags, his arming sword and finally a dagger on his belt. He walked out quickly, the night now completely dark except for the occasional lanterns or torches.

    He almost crashed against the Spider when he turned a corner.

    "L-lord Varys?" he asked, a bit started.

    "Ah, Prince Joffrey. Allow me to convey my deepest sympathies for your Father''s accident" he said, the kind man act making him look even more dangerous. "Yes yes, I thank you my lord" he said as he tried to edge to the side of his enormous body.

    "So much haste… one would think the Queen''s fear of her son''s lust for adventure might be justified…" he said as if to himself.

    "What are you talking about?" Joffrey said dangerously, turning back to look at the Spider.

    "Oh I am but a spectator in all this family drama… but let me just say that the Queen has been very worried about her son''s frequent… hobby in Blackwater Bay… and that she has taken certain measures to ensure her son stays safely in the Red Keep until the recent intrigues quiet down…" said the spider.

    Joffrey stopped and thought for a second before rushing to a nearby window and looking out at the courtyard. Sure enough, out there by the gate was a contingent of Redcloaks commanded by a white cloak, he couldn''t tell which, surrounding the gate… and if the Spider talked truly, keeping an eye out for him.

    Fuck… how did Mother guess?!

    … Must have shown a bit too much enthusiasm when talking about my little ''pleasure trips'' in the Blackwater…

    "Of course, sometimes even builders can get sloppy… alternative passages can get forgotten by all but the most alert of individuals…" the Spider continued knowingly.

    Joffrey understood immediately. He was nowhere near close to Tyrion but he had learned a thing or two… "What do you want in return?" he asked him. The Spider just shrugged, spreading his white palms out, "Absolutely nothing" he said.

    "You''d help me… for nothing?" he asked, nonplussed at the breach of etiquette in the game.

    Varys just nodded magnanimously, and Joffrey frowned. No one played like that. "What is your angle in all of this, Varys? I can''t decide whether you want the Kingdoms to burn to the ground or raised to the pinnacle of what they could be…" he asked him.

    "I am but a servant of the Kingdoms, my Prince. I do what I must" he said as he leaned forward and whispered close. "Behind the cupboard in the old kitchens, below the White Sword Tower… follow the caverns and a small cog will be waiting for you" he said.

    Joffrey stood still for a second as he processed that. He nodded. "Thank you Lord Varys, that will do nicely" he said as the spider nodded back and kept walking amiably.

    What does he get out of this…

    He shook his head as he went down a flight of stairs. No time to think about the Spider''s motivations…

    He walked out of Maegor''s Holdfast, but instead of taking the route for the sword tower, he took a turn towards the inner courtyard, walking through the serpent steps.

    I''ll thank the spider for the tip in some other life, but there''s no way in hells that I''m boarding a ship whose crew he''s bought and paid for. For all I know they''ll slit my throat in that cavern for a bag of gold.

    Besides, I''ve worked too hard for this to go to the crapper.

    He stopped when he heard the sound of fighting, and quickly took cover behind a couple of barrels. Right to his side was the Tower of the Hand, filled with the stench of death. Outside were six Redcloaks, looking about alertly, surrounded by dead Stark men. One of the Greycloaks was crawling towards the barrels, but a Redcloak stepped over him and pierced his back with his sword.

    Shit, things are moving too fast… Robert must be dead already.

    Between my mother''s orders and the frequent fighting…

    Fuck, there''s no way I''m making it through the front gate…

    Not until tomorrow when things calm down a bit and I''m King, but that opens a whole other sack of shit… and nine times out of ten I can''t leave the Red Keep as King without raising a hell of a show. And that''s without even thinking about something unexpected… after Robert dies anything can happen, for all I know Loras was visiting with 300 Tyrell armsmen and Renly is now forming a strike force at Baelor''s Sept.

    No, I''ve got to bug out now.

    That means…

    It was time for plan C.

    Shit… well… can''t live forever, he thought to himself in mild, alarmed amusement.

    He kept peeking through between two barrels, and sighted angrily as a bunch of Redcloaks manhandled Sansa and Arya out of the tower. Arya was white as a sheet, clearly in shock, while Sansa was crying as she kept trying to look back. Her face was streaked by tears and her gown was partly torn up. She stumbled a bit as she tripped over a dead Greycloak, but the Redcloak behind her brutally dragged her by the arm, her legs dragging through the ground for a moment before she found her footing again.

    Joffrey tensed his muscles as if ready to leap, hand on his dagger.

    They''re one-two… five of them, ambush the left one and cut his throat, then dash forward—

    He shook his head. Wowowow… clam down damnit, he thought as he took a deep breath. As angry… as furious as he was with the handling of the Stark girls, intervening would get him nowhere.

    He took another calming breath as they carried them to Maegor''s holdfast. After a few minutes the rest of the Redcloaks walked out of the Tower, carrying a few other dead or wounded comrades back to their barracks.

    He checked both sides of the courtyard… there was no one else at this hour, and the quarter-moon was low on the horizon far west towards Oldtown, giving minimum light and plenty of shadows for Joffrey to hide in.

    The tower of the hand was actually perfect for the next phase, now that he thought about it… He would have to carry on and hope his plan worked, because there was no plan D.

    He left his long backpack on the floor and dashed inside, ignoring the dead corpses of Ned''s personal guard. He quickly ran up the stars, taking all the lanterns he could find and shutting them out. He spared a brief glance to Septa Mordane, who was lying on the ground, bled out.

    You were a sour bitch and responsible for the temporal dulling of a beautiful mind, but not even you deserve such a fate you old crone… he thought as he kept running, gathering up everything flammable.

    Once in Ned''s cellar he spilled the lantern oil on the books, the table, the floor, everywhere.

    He stood back as he tossed the last one, the only one whose flame he''d left on. A small fire was soon under way, consuming the small bookcase and the carpet, slowly inching up towards the supporting pillars.

    Joffrey dashed outside and grabbed his backpack, jogging towards the North-Eastern most tower. Soon a guard shouted "halt!" but was quickly startled when he saw Joffrey. He was now in front of the tower which marked the end of the Red Keep''s north eastern corner. A great round thing that rose up and watched over the long cliff and the sea beyond.

    Before the guard could ask the Prince anything, Joffrey screamed with all his being.

    "THE TRAITORS ARE INSIDE THE RED KEEP! THEY''RE BURNING EVERYTHING!"

    The guards outside the tower got up to their feet in confusion, but quickly took out their swords and called for their comrades inside the tower as they saw the fire atop the tower of the Hand.

    "Everyone out! We are under attack!" shouted one of the guards. "Arlon! Stay with the Prince!"

    Soon the guards at the tower dashed out as Arlon, another redcloak, took him inside.

    "You''ll be safe here m''prince" he said as he barred the door behind him. "I know" Joffrey said in a strangled tone as he stabbed him in the neck from behind. The man crumbled to the floor as Joffrey dashed up the stairs, passing through floors full of swords, beds and discarded cards.

    He reached the top of the tower and quickly started opening the crates that were stacked to the side, hearing the roaring sound of the waves crashing against the cliff.

    "Come on come on come on…." He whispered as he kept searching.

    I told Dallen to leave it here, but I didn''t insist… I never thought I''d actually do this… fuck, what if he forgot? Maybe I should have taken the Eunuch''s offer… shit shit shit—

    "Yes!" he muttered as he got out a big waterproofed sealhide bag. From it he took a thick and long rope, along a few scaling implements. Then he put his own backpack inside it, closed it tight and strapped it to his back.

    He tied the rope to one of the tower''s crenellations, put on a pair of deer skin leather gloves and promptly jumped off the tower.

    He was hanging vertically now, with the restless sea to his back and the stars in front. He jumped from the cliff again, loosening his grip on the rope and grimacing as the heat from the friction warmed his gloves quickly.

    I''ve got to tell Tyrion about this someday…

    He let go again and again, jumping each time as the rope screeched and his hands burned.

    He cursed as he suddenly felt pulling…

    Someone''s trying to bring me up! He thought in alarm.

    His rate of descent started slowing as with each jump the rope was also pulled upwards, each time faster as Joffrey guessed that more and more people joined the tug of war.

    Suddenly he realized he had about 5 meters left of rope, and the sea… was still a bit down.

    He gulped as he looked at the waves crashing against the jagged rocks, pieces of flotsam twirling in between.

    He looked up, at the shouting, barely discernable figures and the starry sky.

    I will have answers.

    He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and let go.

    He felt the wind and the water and suddenly a great pain as he tumbled under the sea, the currents pulling at him from different directions as if trying to carry him deeper.

    Joffrey couldn''t tell which way was the surface, and every second he kept tumbling under the water in confusion was another second that he sank deeper into the black sea.

    He was drowning.

    He felt sluggish, almost as if the sea itself were cupping its hands and carrying him deeper and deeper—

    --Old bones float Old bones float Old bones float Old bones float--

    He kept tumbling and tumbling as he tore at his trousers'' sewed pocket, trying to open it with all his strength. He managed to grab the tablet and toss it away, as strongly as he could.

    He stopped struggling and curled into a ball as he kept sinking… the freezing water almost embracing him as it sapped his warmth.

    He closed his eyes and thought of ancient heart trees and long red leaves twirling around a small shroud…

    He felt the tablet, slowly going away from him.

    Joffrey swam after the tablet with a burst of energy, moving arms and legs in powerful strokes as the air burned in his lungs and purple agony assaulted the edges of his vision.

    He took a harrowing breath as he broke the surface, head butting the tablet away. He kept breathing desperately as he grabbed the tablet with one hand and checked the sealskin bag was still attached to his back.

    It was.

    Follow the moon towards the east, he thought. Follow the moon…

    He swam towards the moon, arms moving like pistons thanks to months of physical conditioning.

    Breath… stroke….moon…. Breath…stroke… moon…. Breath… stroke… moon.

    Every time his head rose from the water to take another breath he looked at the moon like a crazed moth, triple checking he was on the correct course.

    Soon the full moon was burning on his retina, and every time his head entered the water again for another stroke he still saw it… but under the water the figure was distorted, like a great yellowish red eye gazing back from the depths of the ocean.

    The eye seemed to stare into his soul, pulling him down with a strange force as his limbs locked and the purple rushed in from the sides of his vision like bloodhounds.

    -.PD.-

    Joffrey took a sudden breath, puking water to the side.

    He was suddenly aware of a voice in his ear.

    "CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN, CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" he heard.

    He puked water again as he tried to get up. Strong hands helped him and soon he was looking at a dozen sailors, all clustered around him and eying him with respect.

    "Give him space you idiots! Captain, are you all right?!" asked Chief Valyon, shaking his shoulder.

    Joffrey took a few seconds to breathe before nodding.

    "I''m quite alright Chief Valyion… where are we?" he rasped as the sailors slowly dispersed back to their duties.

    "Very close to the Red Keep, Captain. We had barely loaded half of the Arbor Gold after young Rennik told us the timetable had moved, but when I saw the signal fire I decided to set sail immediately. I accept full responsibility for the lost cargo and--"

    "I''ll have none of that Chief Valyion, you did the right thing" he said, still shaken as he kept breathing hard. He walked to the side of the sleek ship and gazed back at the Red Keep, dark and foreboding as the rest of the ocean.

    He shook his head as he walked back towards the mainmast and leaned on it, his breath slowing down.

    "Set sail for Volantis, we''ll resupply at Tyrosh" he ordered.

    Chief Valyon saluted, the short, stocky man raising a fist to his chest and turning back to get the sailors organized.

    Joffrey grasped the handrail around the mast and spit out a bit of water, before sitting down.

    Let''s not do that again, he thought to himself as the ship turned towards what would be their first stop in their journey East.

    -.PD.-

    "GET THOSE JIBS DOWN!" Joffrey shouted as he walked down the stairs and into the central deck. "Helmsman, give her another two points starboard!" Joffrey ordered as he looked up.

    Jon Rivers, the Jade Dream''s helmsman nodded as he shouted. "Two points starboard aye Captain!"

    "Seaman Dorreo, get those ropes in order! I want this ship tied to the harbor so tight a storm will have to take Volantis itself before us!" he shouted at the group of seamen to his right. The men grunted various types of acknowledges and ''Aye Cap''n''s before dashing to it.

    The Jade Dream''s was a fast runner, just like the Eastern Winds. The sleek and fast trading cog had made good time towards Volantis, and beyond a few pirates in the stepstones, which didn''t know what hit them, it had been smooth sailing overall.

    He had been drilling the crew for months, sailing around Blackwater bay in supposed ''pleasure cruises''. Instead of laying in the sun or mindlessly ordering a bunch of sailors around as most people in the Red Keep must have thought, Joffrey had been drilling the crew and handling the ship itself for the eventual journey East. After more than a few close calls on the Seatail, and even a couple of prematurely ended lives on his Citadel run, he had decided he''d take a little more time preparing for the trip East, ensuring the ship and crew he chose were up to the task.

    He now felt they were.

    Joffrey still thought he didn''t have the skills necessary to handle a top crew on a fast trader like Nakaro had, but he felt there was no choice… he needed answers.

    So he, as Tyrion put it in another life, faked it till he made it. To his mild surprise, the crew of the Jade Dreams had followed him without hesitation after one good first impression, and they thought of him as some sort of rouge prince fleeing from his assigned destiny, a royal which had been born with the sea in his heart and the knowledge and bearing to carry it through.

    What a bunch of fools… honest, competent fools…

    He walked to the forward deck, were the ship ended and the view of Volantis was uninterrupted. The Black Walls were huge, he still thought of them as big even after seeing many other humongous shapes, both natural and manmade.

    Those that were not of the Old Blood were not allowed to pass beneath them (which had horribly confused Joffrey at the time, how were the slaves they loved so much supposed to serve them, did they need to be of the ''old blood'' too?) he had still been able to explore them in a past life. The enormous wall, though bearing some similarities to what Joffrey was looking for, was not the deep, sun absorbing black he was searching. He''d read quite a lot about it when he had been getting his last link at the citadel, Red Gold. Its construction had been well documented by historians and it had a clear Valyrian slant, certainly not a million years old.

    He didn''t want to wait here too long, but the crew was tired and the ship needed supplies, so he''d wait… for now

    -.PD.-

    Volantis was truly massive. It was the biggest of the Free cities, and once the most populous. A big, very wide and long bridge creatively named ''the Long Bridge'' crossed the mouth of the Rhoyne, with a multitude of small shops hanging from the sides, selling literally everything from jewels to wines to slaves. Joffrey lost himself in the crowd, enjoying the feeling of anonymity. He drifted from shop to shop, spending thriftily on small dishes, fruits, knickknacks and generally being a nuisance for the frequent palanquins which crossed the bridge. The worthies of Volantis thought only lesser men crossed the city on their own two feet.

    Bunch of idiots.

    The City boasted the dubious privilege of being an even more ''sophisticated'' hive of intrigue than Westeros, what with the frequent elections… once every year. When Joffrey had heard that he''d thought it had been a jest, he thought the city would have burnt to the ground already if that were true.

    Somehow, maybe by bringing it all into the open, the Volantenes managed to elect a bunch of Triarchs once a year, even managing it without much bloodshed. That was not to say the city was any less deadly than King''s Landing. Out of election season, assassination was a common hobby, and the disgraced families that lost the game usually did permanently, falling in prestige, losing their lands and many times even being sold as slaves.

    And the slaves…

    They were everywhere. For every freedman in the city there were five slaves each. They did everything, from cleaning the streets to bedding houses to running shops to carrying palanquins and even teaching the sons of nobles. They had tattoos on their skin to show their status, each occupation represented by a different symbol with different colors.

    Joffrey thought it was a deliberate move by the city''s nobles ever since its founding, not a mere tradition. There had been a word that had struck with Joffrey when he heard it… what had it been?

    It had been Archmaester Perestan, gesticulating thoughtfully with his copper scepter...

    Yes… He remembered it now.

    Dehumanizing. That had been the word.

    All people in positions of power did it, be it to their subjects or their enemies. Archmaester Perestan had thought that all men had, in some way, a resistance towards acts of evil being committed to other men, so the trick was to dehumanize your enemy or the class of people you wanted to keep down, skip the resistance altogether by making other people think of them as something less than human, thus evading any possible empathy.

    For a master of History, Joffrey had thought Archmaester Perestan had an awfully optimistic view of humanity.

    Whatever the underlying process was, the practice, according to him, was pretty effective, and Joffrey could see it right now. To the freeborn and the nobles, the ones with the tattoos were somehow a bit more invisible than other people.

    Joffrey had been sitting on some kind of public park (an improvement over King''s Landing, he gave them that) and watching people come and go. The noble''s and the rest of the freeborn didn''t seem to regard them as people at all… Their eyes even had a tendency to skip over people with a tattoo, a physical reaction. It was not as if they did it consciously, not regularly at least, it had become an ingrained reaction. Archmaester Perestan had spoken about that too, and how it helped make Slave Rebellions an even more frightening prospect for masters. It was as if hordes of monsters appeared out of nowhere, as if the tapestry or the carriage you used to go to the market suddenly became alive with violent intent.

    Sadly, said rebellions rarely happened and those that succeeded were rarer still. Even rarer yet were the ones where the slave''s situation improved in any meaningful way… Joffrey thought the revolt that would eventually lead to Braavos must be the only one that fitted all those characteristics in the last thousand years… a living beacon that such a thing was possible. That must be one of the reasons the huge Volantene warfleet frequently menaced and sometimes even skirmished against Braavosi war galleys… though never the trade fleets. That could hurt commerce and start a war…

    Hypocrites…

    "You look like you could use some time to relax" someone said in perfect Westerosi from his side, startling him.

    Without realizing it, he had drifted to the other side of the bridge, where a big brothel showed its wares. The woman who spoke at him had her face completely tattooed with beautiful blue and green feathers. They extended through her neck and down her breasts, twirling down towards her navel until her loose robe hid them.

    Joffrey looked at her, a bit mesmerized as she walked towards him.

    Feathers… tattoos…

    Slave…

    He shook his head in disgust. "You are truly beautiful, but I think I''d prefer to take my women willingly" he told her in High Valyrian as he stepped back. She gazed at him with a small smile before winking at him and searching for other customers.

    Willingly… for target practice… whispered a corner of his mind.

    He let out a deep sight as he kept walking.

    -.PD.-

    As he drifted with the crowd, Joffrey soon found himself below the Temple of the Lord of Light. He''d visited it only briefly in a past life, when the Eastern Winds had delivered a cargo for a prominent Elephant Noble.

    He''d forgotten how huge it was. As Archmaester Gramyon had said in…

    Damnit.

    The venerable Archmaester had written a million books throughout his lifetime, and not all had been concerned with architecture, but Joffrey clearly remembered reading one of them where it said that the thing was at least three times the size of the Sept of Baelor.

    It was all shades of reds, oranges and yellows, merging and twirling into a veritable complex of buildings and towers and domes. In front of it was a great plaza, from where the priests led the faithful in the bigger ceremonies. He hadn''t liked it much the last time he''d been there, and he didn''t much like it now. The faith of the R''hllor seemed zealous and fanatical, hells bent on trying to convert any wayward soul they could spot, though they kept the city''s peace.

    He guessed they weren''t too different from the faith of the seven, but… well, after being offered as a sacrifice in one life by Stannis''s red bitch, he wasn''t making an effort to understand them.

    Benerro, the cities high priest, was certainly a sight to behold. Joffrey had seldom met a speaker of his caliber, he was so above the fat High Septon in terms of both zeal and oratory as a dragon was to a mole. The man was lanky and tall, his face a sea of flame tattoos as he gesticulated at the crowd and at the Red Comet that appeared like clockwork about a year into his lives.

    They had called it "King Joffrey''s Comet" at court. The mere memory of that made him want to duck in shame at the vacant flattery, and at the insult of naming something so magnificent after him, as some sort of omen for his victory. The rare year that he had both made it that far and been studying astronomy, the Comet had been completely unexpected by the Maesters. Archmaester Vaellyn had basically cloistered himself with Archmaester Ryam and a group of maesters to try and calculate the orbit of the thing. He never managed to stay there long after that, but from what little he''d seen of the Archmaester''s calculations, the Comet''s orbit was eccentric, really eccentric. The last time the thing passed this close to Planetos must have been thousands of years ago.

    It had a perfectly reasonable explanation, and yet people all around the world had attributed their own meanings to it. In King''s Landing it had been an omen of Joffrey''s victory, in Ib it had signaled the return of the Greater Leviathans (he hoped they were wrong, for their sake. Those words should never go together.) In Braavos it was a celebration of the city''s founding, and in Lys it signaled that the highest pleasures reachable by man would soon be bestowed upon the worthies of the city.

    Volantis was no exception.

    Benerro spoke with zeal and conviction, his hands frequently pointing at the huge torches in front of him, making them soar to the sky in a spectacle of flames. "The great Lord R''hallor has spoken through the flames, and the Red Comet carries he''s message!" he let the suspense build before spreading his arms wide, the torrents of flames rising higher. "I have seen her! Azhor Azai has been reborn, she who will save us from the Great Other and his eternal darkness!" he shrieked in ecstasy as the crowd gasped in awe, the flames turning orange.

    Great… now they have some kind of messianic savior. What could possibly go wrong? He thought in mild alarm.

    "The great Lord of Light has shown me her future! Three great dragons that will grow in power and might, three great heads that will cleanse us from the great evil, three--"

    Joffrey''s head was pounding, a bit dizzy.

    Three heads…

    Three heads?! With three dragons?!

    The Faith of R''hllor has allied with the surviving Targeryens!?

    This… this was not good…

    "You''ve got to be fucking kidding me…" he muttered. If a Targeryen pretender marched on Westeros with the support of the huge church of R''hllor… They had a lot of followers, as well as chests of gold and even a private army!

    Make that the war of the six kings then. At this rate there won''t be anyone left in Westeros to rule over.

    He refocused on the square when he noticed Benerro had stopped talking.

    He was looking directly at Joffrey.

    …

    He kept staring at him, and Joffrey decided maybe it was time he left.

    He made his way through the crowd, and when he turned back to look at Benerro again, all he saw was a pommel descending straight to his face.

    -.PD.-

    "Why are you here?" said a voice in his ear.

    He slowly blinked his eyes open…

    "Wha--" SLAM

    A huge fist crashed against his belly, making him grunt in pain as he doubled over the chair he was tied over.

    "Why are you here?" said the voice, in the same tone.

    "Hey! I''m just visiting places and--" SLAM.

    This one was to the side of his head, leaving him dazed.

    "This place does not belong to He of the Many Faces. Only the Lord has the power of life and death here" said another voice as it approached Joffrey, a small red priest which was holding a red hot pincer over a big brazier.

    Joffrey spat blood to the side, looking around him. He was in some kind of darkened room or cellar. "I''ve suffered worst you pyromaniacs… Cook me medium rare please, add mintroses for---" SLAM.

    The fist slammed him in the belly again, cutting him off. The man that had hit him was a big, armored slave with flames tattooed over his head.

    A member of the Fiery Hand. The Church''s own Private Army…

    The hot pincer was now half a meter away from him.

    "You will tell us your target, fake one" he said as the pincer advanced. It hadn''t even touched his skin and he could already feel the heat emanating from it.

    Wait… fake one? He of many faces?

    They think I am a faceless man or something..?!

    "Wait" said a smooth voice, a stark contrast to its usual shrieking or carrying state.

    Both zealots stopped immediately and stepped aside. Benerro glided into the room, robes swirling behind him as he strolled with some kind of iron clad certainty that he''d reach his destination. He reached Joffrey and squatted next to him, grabbing his head by the sides as he stared right into his eyes.

    "Oh Benerro, this is all a bit sudden…" Joffrey giggled as he tried to undo the ropes on his hands.

    The City''s head priest said nothing, only gazing sternly at his eyes. Finally, after a second or an hour, he stood up.

    "He''s not a faceless man, you are what you are Prince Joffrey… but… how…?" he said the last with some kind of deep confusion.

    Joffrey took a minute to recompose himself after the staring session with Benerro. There''s something about Crazy that you can spot it in another person''s eyes… And Benerro had a double serving of it inside. "How what?! I''m just minding my own business. I suppose you''d like a shipping itinerary of my journey?" he asked bitingly.

    Benerro didn''t seem to hear him though, he was shaking his head and muttering, confused. He frequently turned and gazed at the big brazier to the side where the pincer had been heated.

    "But… I can still see it… how?!" he said, almost in despair as he leaned closer to the flames, so close Joffrey thought his hair would have burst into flame. If he had any.

    "I see your fate young Joffrey… a great wedding and a mean mind, a purpled face and an accusing mother…" said Benerro almost to himself.

    Joffrey stood very still, not moving an inch. His breathing stopped so he could better hear Benerro.

    "A trial for an Imp and a burial for a King… A triumphant mockingbird flitting around a field of green and gold flowers… a new marriage for a realm, more war and death and destruction…" Benerro muttered, his concentration on the flames supreme.

    Joffrey was shivering at the display, breath hitched. Benerro was actually seeing the future… but…

    The future of my first life… my funeral… the Imp was the obvious fall man… a trial… gods, they most likely killed him…

    His shivering became stronger.

    A new marriage for a realm… the Lannister-Tyrell alliance would need to carry on, Myrcella… no… needs to be the King. Tommen with Maergery again, widowed and married again.

    More war and death and destruction… gods how could it get worse?

    Joffrey remembered the calculations he''d made one day, after closing his shipping insurer business for the afternoon. It had been a slog, but Joffrey had needed to know…

    He calculated a rough estimate of the damage to the realm that the wars would have cost up to his death. The regular campaigns on the Riverlands, the lightning sacking of the Westerlands, the plundering of the North by the Iron Islanders, the battles on the Stormlands, the unrest in the Reach…

    The War of the five Kings had not been raging all that long before he died, but the level of devastation had been completely out of proportion with that.

    It had been decades of literally lost time, decades for the Realm to put itself back together…

    But even more… He could see it really… how had he been so na?ve as to think it would have all ended after the five original Kings were dead…

    With Balon dead, the Ironborn could focus on much richer targets such as the undefended Reach, and the Dornish might have joined the fray to take revenge on the Lannisters… maybe somebody snapped Lysa Arryn from her stupor and the Vale attacked to take revenge for the Red Wedding…

    And the Targeryen pretender with an army of zealots…

    Too many possibilities, so much death and waste…

    All of this passed through Joffrey''s mind lightning quick as Benerro grunted in frustration and almost jutted his head on the fire, his hands grasping the brazier with all their strength, the sound of fizzling flesh assaulting Joffrey''s nose.

    "No! Must see before… Three Dragon… no… A king of the pack.. No! Before!"

    His voice suddenly stilled, speaking much more softly as he placed his head on top of the flames.

    The sound of burning flesh punctuated his monologue.

    "An old wolf beheaded… A boy drunk with power… yes… I see you right now! I SEE YOU!!! A deformed lion cub, surrounded by poisons and swords. A spurned white cloak, an indignity delivered upon a legend, a lifelong duty stolen!" he screeched as he got his head out of the fire. Parts of his flesh were cooked black, and one of his eyes was no more, but the one that remained look at Joffrey as if he were both blasphemy and deadly curse.

    Swords and poisons.. the throne?... A spurned white cloak and a legend… oh gods… Am I… Was I dismissing Ser Barristan from the Kingsguard right at this moment in my first life?

    "YOU ARE HERE WHEN YOU COULD NOT! HOW CAN YOU DEFY THE LORD OF LIGHT!? WHAT ARE YOU?!?!" he screamed as he stumbled back and the other two men retreated in fear from Joffrey, holding Benerro as his mad ramblings suddenly stopped and he fell on the arms of the Red soldier, unconscious.

    Both men stared in some kind of terror at Joffrey as they slowly retreated towards the door.

    Joffrey was both shaken and exasperated.

    "Look people… I… you can take your complaints to the fucking purple! Just let me--"

    He wasn''t able to finish before they slammed the door shut, leaving him alone with the godsdamned brazier.

    There was a lot in Joffrey''s mind, but he needed to priorities.

    Right, get out of here first, think later. I give ten to one odds that after they get over the shock they''ll put a sword through my chest… or better yet, burn me atop their temple to appease the Red Comet or something.

    He quickly felt the ropes that had his hands tied to the back of the chair. One thing was quickly apparent.

    The Soldiers of the Fiery Hand were no great sailors.

    If Seaman Dorreo had done this knot I would have had him cleaning the deck till the end of time…

    He quickly disentangled it, and he leapt to his feet as he dashed to the door. He pressed his ear to it, and tried to open it after hearing nothing.

    The door opened without complaint.

    They even forgot to lock me in… they think I''m something more scary than a faceless man…

    He let that thought percolate through his head before concentrating and feeling the tablet.

    He walked two doors through a long red stoned corridor before turning to the left and opening a door. It was a small storage room, and on the ground was his small ''city pouch'' along with his sword and dagger.

    I''d never would have thought that little oddity of yours would be so useful, he mused as he made sure the tablet was in the pouch and he strapped his weapons to his back.

    He walked out of the room silently and walked towards one end of the corridor, but promptly stopped when a veritable mob of Fiery Hand soldiers turned a corner and saw him, 15 meters away.

    They were carrying swords, axes and a lot of torches, holding on to them as if their life depended on it. They stared at him in stomach curling terror before one of them stepped forward, torches in both hands.

    "FOR THE LORD OF LIGHT!!!" he screamed like a man condemned as he ran at Joffrey, the rest of the soldiers responding with a roar of their own and charging after the brave one.

    Joffrey turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

    Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

    He ran through a set of stairs that went up and slammed through a door which barred the way. He was suddenly on the Temple''s main hall, full of people worshiping and Red Priests giving benedictions or omens. Beside him a Red Priest tumbled to the ground, holding his bloodied nose.

    "I''m sorry!" he said as he dashed as fast as he could towards the exit.

    He pushed and shoved past the confused faithful and was at the great opened gates of the temple when he heard a shout from behind him.

    "KILL THE ABOMINATION! BE BRAVE IN THE NAME OF R''HLLOR!!!" roared someone from within the contingent of soldiers that spilled from the passageway.

    Your stupid god has apparently nothing on the Purple you idiots! He wanted to shout back but he kept running, exiting the temple past the startled and confused guards, which soon heard the shouts and cries and joined the pursuit.

    Joffrey ran through stalls and markets, taking sharp turns at alleys and dashing over the streets.

    He ran out of an alley and promptly bounced back to the ground. A huge grey beast rose its legs, sharp long tusks glinting in the afternoon light as it gave a thumpy roar.

    Elephant, supplied a helpful part of Joffrey''s head.

    The startled animal came down and Joffrey''s quick reflexes and fast rolling skills were the only thing that saved him.

    And right behind him appeared the fiery mob, the veritable sea of flaming torches sizzling and waving right in front of the startled animal.

    A sound like a horn from the seven hells resounded within Joffrey''s skull as the big beast roared and started jumping and turning, smashing people and goring red soldiers as the noble atop it fell down to the pavement and broke his leg.

    "You people should really walk on your own two feet, safer that way" Joffrey blurted out at the moaning man as he scrambled out of the quagmire and stood up, running for the docks.

    He saw inside his head an imaginary Tyrion lowering his cup and raising both hands to the air, six digits out of ten.

    Not bad… he thought irreverently as he ducked through another alleyway, breaking the line of sight of whomever had not been busy enough fending for their life against an enraged monster.

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

    In between breaths, Joffrey managed to speak.

    "Everybody here?" he huffed.

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

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

    "B-but Captain, its midnight--"

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

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

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

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

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

    As sleepy sailors emerged from below, Joffrey bellowed.

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

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

    "FIERY ZEALOTS. SET SAIL!" S?a?ch* Th? N?v?l(F)ire.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    They have ships too?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The third one coming right at him.

    In fact…

    Joffrey squinted.

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

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

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

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

    "DRAW!" ordered Joffrey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Wait… wait… wait…

    "NOW!" he shouted.

    THUNG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Joffrey leapt over the wooden shield and grabbed the bolt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    What does Baelish get out of this, exactly…?

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Still…

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

    Either way was a terrifying prospect.

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

    Or The Purple was more powerful than gods…

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

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

    By the…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And then, I''ll have answers.

    -.PD.-

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

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

    As its inhabitants made sure Joffrey knew that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    A Westerosi here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "And you? Lord…?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Wait, homeland? She considers herself Westerosi…?

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

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

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

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

    Father and Daughter! It had been obvious….

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

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

    Holy shit, Rivers was not bullshitting me…

    Okay Joffrey, time for a tactical retreat…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Lust?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    What!?

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

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

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

    I know…. I …

    Who…

    Who am I?

    Who am I!?

    WHO AM I!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Queen Daenerys, Ser Jorah" he greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    But she''s not like him.

    She''s not like him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He shook his head as he stood back.

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

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

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

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

    How much knowledge will be lost?

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

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

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

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

    What a fucked up world… he thought.

    "Are you alright?" asked Daenerys.

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

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

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

    -.PD.-

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

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

    The third…

    The third was that the game broke her…

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

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

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

    She seemed pretty determined though.

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Great…

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

    He saw the Imp rallying the men.

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

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

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

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

    …

    Nothing.

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

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

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

    Only silence greeted him.

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

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

    Nope. Not falling for that.

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

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

    Are those glass candles?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    What the hell is wrong with him!?

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

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

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

    …

    Joffrey was shaken.

    Shaken and scared.

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

    Joffrey shivered.

    She''s not like him.

    He shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Answers" he said.

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Then they fell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Then he saw it.

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

    The wave consumed them.

    -.PD.-

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

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

    He focused on one of the pieces.

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

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

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

    -.PD.-

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

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

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

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

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

    -.PD.-