The Young Lion

Act 2 Ch 14 A Failed Ritual

[3rd POV]

Faster than anyone realized night had fallen and the celebrations were well underway. The great hall had been filled with over a dozen long oak tables. Each holding two large candlesticks, and filled with succulent dishes from the king’s kitchens. Pitchers filled with the finest dornish reds were set and wooden cups distributed to every guest’s hand. 

Atop the stone steps leading to the Iron Throne, the largest oak table was set for the royal family and his guests of honor. Joffrey sat in the middle in the largest seat, still dressed in his black doublet, but had removed his bracers to eat more comfortably. Beside him sat Sansa in her violet Victorian evening dress. To his left sat both his younger siblings who he had invited now that he was sure the conflict was over. 

His sister Myrcella had long waist length golden blonde hair, and emerald green eyes. She wore a dark green evening dress embroidered with golden flowers. Joffrey had to agree with Tyrion that his younger sister was the spitting image of their mother, without any of her madness. As for his brother Tommen, he wore a crimson red doublet and matching breeches that were lined with gold. He had begun to grow out his short golden hair just like his big brother had. Many said that he greatly resembled Joffrey as he was already quite tall for his age. 

To Sansa’s left sat her family, Robb had changed out of his armor and into some more comfortable formal attire for dinner, that the king’s servants had provided. He wore a dark gray doublet with silver lining along with matching breeches. Robb had become very interested in this new style of clothing that he had seen all the citizens of the city wearing. The cloth was soft and flexible allowing breath ability and comfortably that the traditional northern attire didn’t. He also had to admit that there was an aesthetic appeal to the new garb.  Arya loathfully wore a dark blue evening dress that fit her petite frame perfectly, while Ned wore a simple white dress shirt and black breeches.

As the nobles began to eat and drink their fill, servants were making their way out of the city, and making their way to the northern soldiers camp. Joffrey had been true to his word and ordered his servants to set up tents and provide warm food and drinks to the weary northern soldiers. The soldiers looked on with surprise, though they were sure their lords would receive hospitality. They had never imagined that they would be seeing a warm meal anytime soon. So it went without saying the tired and famished soldiers welcomed this surprise happily.

As the night filled with the sounds of celebration not only inside the city, but outside as well. Joffrey sat and watched with a pleased expression as the once frightened citizens of his city laughed, drank, and sang together. As he gazed upon his hall he noticed the northern lords that just hours ago were his enemies, were slowly but surely getting into a celebratory mood. They had all changed into the evening clothes that he freely provided from his textile industry. As the night had gone on they had gone from feeling like whipped dogs to honored guests just as he had intended.

He knew when someone was at their lowest it posed the perfect opportunity to gain their trust and loyalty. If he had them flocked and flogged through his streets with his citizens throwing rotten vegetables and trash at them until they stood before him. It would’ve cemented everything the north thought about him and the south, which inevitably would lead to another conflict. Instead he offered them a peaceful resolution, and treated them with courtesy and respect. Welcoming them into his home and offering them food and wine, as well as pleasurable company from the red light district.

It was this tactic which made Aegon the conqueror such a good ruler. He knew when to utilize the stick and when to use the carrot for maximum efficiency, when to use the sword and when to sheath it. He wanted these men to leave his halls and ride back home with zero animosity toward his future rule. He watched with a grin as the female escorts that Ros his master of coin provided made their way to the eager old men.

As the night went on Joffrey watched as members of both families began to break into groups and talked. Sansa went with Myrcella and had a “girl talk”, while Tommen tried to strike up a conversation with Arya, who didn’t seem particularly interested. He then looked and saw a brooding Robb who was standing near one of the hall stone pillars. Joffrey stood up and took his cup and pitcher of wine with him and made his way to the pouting wolf. 

“Need a refill?” He asked the startled lord.

Robb looked at him with a frown.

“You know you and your father have the same stink eye. Must be hereditary.” Joffrey said with a laugh unbothered by Robb’s attitude.

After hearing his quip Robb just held out his cup letting Joffrey refill it as he turned and looked at his family. Joffrey obliged and then proceeded to fill his own. After setting down the pitcher on a table and stood beside him and looked at their two families. As the two young men stood side by side neither man said a word while those around them made merry. Joffrey decided to break the ice and address the elephant in the room.

“I know why you’re upset.” He said plainly as Robb didn’t respond. “You asked her to come back with you and she refused you.”

“Hmph,” He grunted back.

“You swore you’d respect her decision no matter what she chose.” Joffrey pointed out.

“I said I’d respect it, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Robb retorted.

“Fair enough.” He responded, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a swig from his cup.

The pair watched on as Tommen continued to try to woo Arya, only to face rejection as an amused Ned watched on. 

“It would seem my little brother is taken with your sister.” He said with a chuckle as they watched their younger sibling antics. “I would propose a match, but rumors say that ship has already sailed.”

Robb furrowed his brow upon hearing Joffrey’s words, and looked on with a guilty expression. Joffrey looked at Robb with confusion till he put two and two together.

“She doesn't know, does she?” He asked.

“No,” He responded flatley with clear guilt in his voice.

“You do know the longer you wait, the more damage it will do.”

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“I know that!” He yelled, losing his composure for a brief moment. 

He knew he had to tell her at some point that she was to be married to one of Walder Frey's sons as part of their agreement to cross the Trident. But after seeing her relief and her happiness to return home after over a year, he couldn’t bring himself to snatch that away by telling her the truth.

Robb bit his lower lip in frustration as a sympathetic Joffrey nodded his head.

“She’ll forgive you.” He said confidently.

“What?”

“Arya, she’ll understand and she’ll forgive you.”

“How in the seven hells do you know that?!” He started to get annoyed at Joffrey’s presumptuous attitude.  “How will she forgive me or even speak to me again after she finds out she was sold so I could cross a bridge!” He yelled.

“Simple because she loves you.” He said with a matter of fact attitude. “You’ll explain that you did it to save your family and you did what you had to do. She’s a smart girl, she’ll be angry for a while, but she’ll forgive you.”

Robb’s face went through a variety of expressions after hearing Joffrey’s words. From angry, to surprised, to doubtful, and then finally hopeful.

“Do you really think so?” He asked.

“Of course.” Joffrey said with a laugh as he grasped Robb’s shoulder. “After all I’ve seen how she looks at you, you don’t kill that with just one mistake. She’ll be angry but one day she will understand why you did what you did.”

Robb looked down at Joffrey’s hand on his shoulder, before turning and looking back at his sister who had started flinging food at Sansa. After looking back at Joffrey with uncertainty still in his eyes his mood brightened a bit.

“I hope you’re right, your grace.” He said with a hint of gratitude.

“Come with me.” Joffrey said, still holding Robb’s shoulder and leading Robb out of the great hall into a more quiet area of the Red Keep.

The two walked side by side until Joffrey led them to an outside balcony. It was the same balcony that Joffrey had his vision on months prior. It was his particular favorite balcony as it gave him a view over his entire city and beyond. As the pair made their way out onto the empty platform, the sounds of celebration could be heard beyond the walls, as campfires illuminated the night.

“It would seem your men are having a good time.” Joffrey said as he leaned against the ledge and looked out over his city.

Robb slowly made his way to his side and stood next to him. The two men looked out over the city gazing at its illustrious architecture. Robb had to admit it was the most magnificent city he had ever seen, the Red Keep alone was three times larger than Winterfell. The pair just awkwardly stood beside each other in silence, neither of the two knowing what to say to the other. As just a day prior they were sworn enemies, and now they stood as vassal and ruler. As Robb went to speak Joffrey spoke first.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Lord Stark.” He said as continued to gaze upon his city.

Robb’s face tightened upon hearing Joffrey’s words.

“Here we go.” He thought internally. “Here’s where he asked me to join his cause and fight against his uncle’s armies.”

“How may I serve you, your grace?” He actually said with sarcasm in his voice.

If Joffrey detected Robb’s sarcasm he didn’t let it show on his face, which remained still and stoic.

“When you return to the north I would like for you to transport eight hundred prisoners to the Wall.”

Robb had a baffled expression on his face.

“What?” Joffrey asked after seeing Robb’s confused expression.

“You’re not gonna ask me to ride against your uncle’s forces?”

“What? No” He shook his head as he stood up straighter to address him.

Seeing the young wolf’s distrust, Joffrey decided to clarify his position.

“I’m not going to ask you or the North to fight my battles for me.” He said clearly to the still doubtful Lord.

“Why?” Robb asked.

“Because it's a family matter that I will deal with myself, and because I think the north has suffered enough.” 

Robb's mouth hung open. He had many questions to ask the young king, but his mouth and his brain had become disconnected. Seeing the man’s ire, Joffrey chuckled a bit to himself.

“The only contribution to the war that I ask of you is for the Riverlands and the Tridents surrender. Though if you could get your crazy aunt to lay down her arms as well, it would be appreciated.” He said with a smile. 

Robb was still dumbfounded by Joffrey’s magnanimous attitude toward him and his countrymen. He then began to think that maybe their lives might not be so terrible under his rule. A small smile then crept onto his face.

“As you wish, your grace.” He said, giving Joffrey a polite bow, with still a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Joffrey just rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic display. The two men then went back to drink their cups and discussed other topics. Until a servant found them and told them of a fight about to break out between two of their drunk men. The two then made their way into the hall ending the squabble before it began.

[The Next Day]

The following morning the northern forces began packing up their tents and other cargo into carts. As the northern soldiers were preparing for their departure, the royal guards were herding the former gold cloaks into caged wagons. There were roughly eight hundred of them remaining after the royal guard had usurped their positions and slaughtered them in the streets. The men were bruised and battered with their wrists and ankles restrained in a chain hobble. It took roughly forty wagons to transport them all. 

As the last of the men were being locked inside the cages, Joffrey was making his way out of the city accompanied by both his kingsguard and small council. He blocked out the cries of the maggots as he made his way to the Stark family who was preparing to depart. As Joffrey’s group approached, Robb upon noticing them straightened his back and walked toward them with his family and fellow lords. As the two groups drew near one another they stopped a few feet apart.

“Lord Stark.” Joffrey said politely with a professional tone.

“Your grace,” Robb returned the gesture.

“I just wanted to see you off and to wish you safe travels.” He said with a smile.

“Well that's very kind of you, your grace.”  He said with his usual sarcastic tone.

Sansa went and hugged her father and brother, and ruffled her annoying sister’s head, as the others exchanged goodbyes. Joffrey then slowly went and began giving his personal goodbyes to the departing Stark family.

“It was a pleasure having you as my guest lord Eddard.” He said with a smile and a small hint of sarcasm. “I wish you luck and good health at the wall.”

“Thank you, your grace.” He said getting the slight joke. 

“I can’t say it was the worst hospitality I've received.” He said with a laugh.

Joffrey then made his way to little Arya, who looked at him like she wanted to carve out his heart with a bread knife.

“Goodbye little wolf.” He said ruffling her hair before she tried to bite him.

“If you ever hurt my sister I'll put a knife through your eye.” She said with a dead serious tone.

The others were a little embarrassed by her words, especially Sansa. Though Joffrey just laughed it off.

“I have no doubt.” He responded with a chuckle.

Joffrey then moved down and made his way to Robb.

“I wish you good fortunes in the wars to come.” He said, extending his arm. 

Robb looked down at the outstretched arm before clasping Joffrey’s forearm. Joffrey then suddenly pulled Robb forward to whisper something in his ear that no one else could hear. The moment was brief but after separating Robb’s eyes were wide in shock. The other members standing around had puzzled looks on their faces and were murmuring amongst themselves. Whatever they had discussed neither man said a word.

“Goodbye, Lord Stark.” He said with a smile to the still stunned Lord.

“Y-you too, your grace.” He said shakily.

After finishing their farewells Joffrey returned to the Red Keep along with his beloved and small council. The war with the north was officially at an end.

[Three Days Later]

In a fort near the Stormlands Stannis’s forces were setting up to begin a siege of the fortress come morning. In the largest tent that belonged to their king, the red priestess Melisandre was preparing a ritual. She was a rather beautiful woman with a foreign majestic aura around her. She had long waist length hair the color of deep burnished copper, with unsettling red eyes. Her belly was already swollen, carrying Stannis’s “child” that they planned to use against his younger brother.

Upon hearing of Joffrey triumph over the northern forces and their subsequent surrender in just three days time. They decided that Joffrey posed too much of a threat against their future plans. Though since she could only use her “child” against one target, she decided to use another method. 

As the hour grew later Melisandre began the ancient blood magic ritual, picking up a large stone Mortar she cut her own palm with a ceremonial dagger dropping her blood into the stone bowl. She then dropped the fur of a lion and a piece of an antler inside. The air began to get cooler and the winds began to pick up. She then carried the bowl over to the frightened woman who was gagged and tied to a wooden beam. 

The woman's name was Mya Stone, who was the first of Robert Baratheon’s bastards. She was a tall strapping young woman with coal-black hair that was cut short with deep blue eyes. Stannis had her seized the moment his army came ashore, because according to Melisandre she carried “king’s blood” which was both very rare and powerful. 

As Melisandre drew close to the frightened young woman, she gave the girl a sympathetic look. Then in one fluid motion cut the girl's throat, holding the bowl beneath the throat letting the blood flow into it. She then began chanting in High Valyrian, as she set the Mortar down on an oak table. As Stannis looked on, the Mortar suddenly burst with flames melting the antler and the lion's hair. The bright orange flames soon turned black, while the priestess just continued chanting a wicked smile spreading across her face. 

[At The Same Time In The Red Keep] 

Joffrey was sitting alone at his desk in his Solar, dressed in a plain white nightshirt and black breeches. He was busy drawing up some new designs for some inventions that he planned on showing Tobho in the morning. As he went to get a drink of water suddenly his chest started to hurt. 

Clenching his chest he felt pain spreading throughout his body and then began to cough. The cough increased in frequency and pain as he struggled to stand up from his desk. He strained to his feet and leaned against his desk and tried to make his way to the door to ask for help. His legs became weak like jelly as he tried to move, until they gave out on him and he fell onto his stone floor. 

Lying face down in the middle of his room, Joffrey struggled to his knees. His coughing had become even more violent as he began to spit up blood. Feeling like his heart was in a vice, Joffrey tore open his shirt to look at his chest. At the center of his chest near his solar plexus a large black mark began to grow and spread. Suddenly black veins began to sprout from the black spot and crawled their way up his body. The veins made their way up Joffrey’s neck, which felt like it was being strangled by a pair of invisible hands.

As the veins made their way to his cheeks, his eyes began to bleed from his tear ducts. The veins slowly made their way toward his eyes, turning his scleras black and made their way to his pupils. Then suddenly his Irises began to glow bright orange, and the black veins began to retract. They were forced from his face and crawled back down his neck as the pressure from his neck decreased. The black veins regressed all the way to the black spot which suddenly disappeared from his body. 

Joffrey was finally able to catch his breath as the pain left as fast as it had come. 

“What the fuc-” He started to say before passing out on the floor. 

[Back At Stannis’s Fort]

As Melisandre continued to chant the smile quickly left her face, and was replaced with one of confusion as she felt the spell resist her. The Mortar suddenly began to shake and the flames changed from black to bright orange. The flames then grew into a pillar of fire that reached the height of the tent. The stone bowl then began to grow cracks across it, until it shattered into a hundred pieces that pierced the fabric of the tent. Yet the pillar of fire refused to go out as the sounds of howling and screams could be heard coming from within it. 

A stunned and confused Stannis just watched on, a frightened Melisandre looked upon the flames. Suddenly the red Priestess was struck by a bolt of fire from the flame pillar and was sent flying across the room. Then just as fast as it had grown the flaming pillar vanished and the howling and screaming stopped. Stannis quickly recovered from his confusion and rushed to his priestess’s side. 

As he kneeled beside her he found her whole body was smoking as red blisters appeared across her body. He tried to turn her over but found her very skin hot to the touch. Melisandre slowly turned over and looked up at the ceiling of the tent as she laid on her back.

“My lady are you alright?” He asked his voice filled with concern

But Melisandre didn’t answer him, it was as if she couldn’t hear him at all.

“I don’t understand!” She cried out her skin still smoking. “Why my lord?!”

Stannis just looked confused, not understanding what she was talking about.