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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 105: The Return
He never thought he would be returning here so soon.
But here he was, flying above the skies of King's Landing.
The city sprawled beneath him like a diseased beast, its streets winding through the hills, its walls crumbling in places where time and neglect had taken their toll. The smell was the same too...that unmistakable mixture of shit, smoke, and desperation that clung to every stone, every alley, and every soul who called this place home. It was the smell of King's Landing, and it had not changed in the years he had been gone.
It had grown dark by the time they reached the capital, but the city was still very much alive, its streets lit by a thousand flickering torches, its alleys filled with the sounds of revelry and despair.
Joffrey guided the flying carpet through the cool night air, his eyes scanning the familiar landmarks below.
The Great Sept of Baelor rose in the distance, its crystal towers gleaming in the moonlight like frozen tears. The Dragonpit loomed on the hill, empty and silent, a monument to a power that had long since faded from the world.
And there, at the heart of the city, was the Red Keep, its walls glowing with the light of a thousand torches.
King's Landing had not changed one bit in the past years. It was still the same cesspool of ambition and decay, the same gilded cage that had trapped so many souls within its walls.
"We're almost there," Joffrey said, his voice carrying back to Tommen and Myrcella. "Can you see it?"
Tommen leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement, his face flushed with the cold wind. "I can see the castle! It's beautiful from up here!"
Myrcella was more subdued in her reaction, but it was obvious she was as excited as her brother. Her hands gripped the edges of the carpet, her knuckles white with tension. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Joffrey, to fly there? Perhaps we should have just walked in. Someone might see us and think..."
Joffrey cut her off with a wave of his hand, his expression calm and untroubled. "Don't worry so much about what everyone else thinks, Myrcella." He paused, his eyes fixed on the Red Keep below. "And I no longer have any need to keep my abilities a secret. Let them see what I can do."
The words were spoken with a quiet confidence that brooked no argument. He had spent too long hiding, too long pretending to be something he was not. Those days were over. This would serve as a warning and a deterrent to anyone who wished to bring harm to the two of them.
After all, Joffrey was not planning on staying here for longer than necessary. A show of force was the quickest way to ensure his siblings' safety in this den of snakes.
Fawkes trilled softly from his perch on Joffrey's shoulder, his golden eyes gleaming with intelligence as he watched the city below. The phoenix had been quiet for most of the journey, content to rest and recover his strength. But now, as they approached the seat of power in the Seven Kingdoms, he seemed to sense the tension in the air.
Joffrey descended toward the Red Keep, his magic guiding the carpet with ease.
The wind whipped past them, cold and biting, but Joffrey's magic kept them warm, a protective barrier that had shielded them for the entire journey.
The courtyard below was lit with torches, and figures were moving about...dozens of servants, guards, nobles attending the feast that was clearly still in progress.
"The Great Hall is lit up," Myrcella observed, her voice tinged with nervousness. "They must be having a party."
"Perfect timing," Joffrey said, a thin smile playing at his lips. "We'll make quite the entrance."
The carpet hovered over the main courtyard.
Joffrey guided it downward slowly and deliberately, giving the people below time to notice them. He wanted them to see him. He wanted them to remember him.
The first person to spot them was a servant, just a young woman carrying a tray of goblets. She looked up, her eyes widening with shock, and the tray clattered to the ground. Her scream cut through the night with ease, a piercing cry that drew the attention of everyone nearby.
Then others looked up. A guard pointed, his mouth open. A nobleman stumbled backward, his face pale with terror. Shouts rose, spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
People began to pour out of the Great Hall, their fine clothes rustling in the chaos, their faces a mixture of fear and curiosity.
Joffrey landed the carpet a few feet above the ground, letting it hover in place as the crowd gathered around them.
The Kingsguard was already forming a protective ring, their hands on their swords, their eyes fixed on the strange sight before them. Their training warring with their shock at the impossibility of what they were seeing.
Ser Barristan Selmy stepped forward, his white cloak gleaming in the torchlight. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed his shock. "Prince Joffrey," he said, his voice measured. "Is that... really you?"
Joffrey stepped off the carpe. He was calm and unhurried, as if he were returning from a casual stroll rather than a two-year absence. "Yes, it is me, Ser Barristan." He glanced around at the guards, who now had their swords pointed at them. "I didn't expect a warm reception, but this..." He pointed at all the swords.
"Two years," Barristan muttered, his voice flat with disbelief. "You have disappeared for two years. And you return with... this." He gestured to the carpet that still hovered a few inches into the air.
"I return with my siblings," Joffrey said, gesturing to Tommen and Myrcella. "I promised them that I would bring them back, and I have kept my promise."
A commotion at the edge of the crowd drew everyone's attention. Cersei Lannister was pushing through the guards, her face pale with shock, her eyes wild with emotion. She had been enjoying the feast, dressed in her finest gown, her golden hair styled with care. Now, her carefully composed mask had crumbled, replaced by raw emotion.
"Move aside!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "These are my children! Let me through!"
The guards parted, and Cersei rushed forward. Tommen and Myrcella climbed off the carpet, their eyes bright with tears, and ran into their mother's arms.
"Tommen! Myrcella!" Cersei held them tightly, her tears flowing freely. "You're home! You're both home!"
Joffrey watched the reunion, looking unfazed by the show of affection between the mother and her children. He was glad to see them reunited, but there was a distance between him and the rest of his family...a distance that had only grown during his time away from here. He was no longer the brother they remembered, no longer the son Cersei had raised.
He was something else.
Cersei pulled back from her younger children, her eyes searching their faces. Then she looked at Joffrey, and her expression hardened.
"You," she said, her voice sharp as a blade. "You took them from me. You took them without permission, without warning. You disappeared into the night and..."
"I did what I had to do," Joffrey said, his voice flat. "Don't expect an apology from me."
"Apology?" Cersei's voice rose with fury. "You think that would fix it?" She pointed at him with shaky fingers, her face twisted with rage. "I should have you arrested. I should have you..."
The tension rose among the present guards.
Dozens of swords became pointed at Joffrey, their steel gleaming in the torchlight, but he still looked unfazed. His expression was calm, almost bored, as if the threat of violence was beneath his notice.
Ser Barristan stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Joffrey's missing arm. "You return here with no sword and one arm, Prince Joffrey. That is a bold move, even for you. You are surrounded by some of the finest swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms."
Joffrey met his gaze, his green eyes cold and steady. "One arm is more than enough, Ser Barristan. For what I need to do here."
Barristan studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and respect. "You speak with a confidence that borders on arrogance." He took a step forward but still kept his distance, stopping several feet away from him.
Joffrey smiled, a cold, knowing expression. "You have good instincts, Ser Barristan." He could tell that the old knight could feel the danger he was currently in, despite being in front of an opponent that looked completely harmless. None of the knights present knew what he was capable of doing, but the old man in front of him was the only one capable of perceiving the gravity of the situation.
The guards tightened their grip on their swords, waiting for the order to strike. The tension was thick enough to cut with a blade.
Then a voice cut through the chaos, cold and commanding.
"Stand down!"
Lord Tywin Lannister stepped forward, his presence silencing the crowd. He was dressed in his finest robes, his face carved from stone, his cold eyes fixed on Joffrey with an intensity that could cut through steel. The guards parted before him, their heads bowed, their hands falling from their swords.
Joffrey met his grandfather's gaze, his expression calm. Tywin was just as he had imagined from the descriptions he had heard. He was tall, imperious, radiating power and control. He had never met the man in person, but he had been told enough stories to know what to expect.
"Grandfather," Joffrey said, inclining his head. "I was looking forward to meeting you."
Tywin's eyes swept over him, missing nothing. "Joffrey... you return to this city after two years of absence, after fleeing in the night with your siblings, after consorting with dragons and sorcerers in the East. What is your purpose here? What do you want?"
"Flee?" Joffrey shook his head. "I did not do such a thing, Grandfather. I merely left because I had no interest in ruling. And I took my siblings to protect them from the war my mother decided to start when she attacked Lord Stark and his men."
Cersei stepped forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "You had no right to take them! They are my children! I should have you thrown into the black cells for this, Joffrey. How dare you betray your own family."
"Enough, Cersei." Tywin held up a hand, silencing Cersei while keeping his eyes on Joffrey. "You will explain yourself properly. You will tell us where you have been, what you have done, and why you are here. And then, we will decide what to do with you."
Joffrey inclined his head, a gesture of acceptance. "I was going to suggest the same thing. The courtyard is not a place for a private conversation. Perhaps we could move inside?" With a single gesture of his hand, the flying carpet was reduced in size until it was no bigger than a handkerchief. Joffrey picked it up and placed it inside his pocket, much to the shock of everyone present. "Shall we?"
<><>
The throne room was silent as a tomb, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the stone walls.
The Iron Throne rose at the far end of the hall, its jagged swords gleaming in the torchlight, a monument to conquest and cruelty.
The chamber was empty save for Joffrey, the Kingsguard, and the few selected members that Lord Tywin had deemed useful to have here. After all, the Hand of the King did not want too many ears listening to this conversation.
Tommen and Myrcella had been taken away by servants, their safety ensured by command of the Queen. They had protested, wanting to stay and talk in favor of their brother, but Cersei had insisted on keeping them away and well secured.
The conversation that was about to take place was not for children's ears.
Joffrey stood before the throne, his posture relaxed, his eyes fixed on the twisted metal before him. The phoenix was no longer perched on his shoulder, as it had flown away the moment they landed. The creature was curious to see this human city in more detail, and Joffrey had told him to go. He would return when he was needed.
The council had gathered around the throne.
Tywin stood at the center, his hands clasped behind his back.
Cersei stood beside him, her hands clenched into fists, her face pale with anger.
King Loras sat on the throne, looking deeply uncomfortable, his eyes darting between the assembled council members.
Lord Mace Tyrell was there, his face flushed with anxiety. Lady Olenna sat in a chair nearby, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her lips pursed in a thin line.
Grand Maester Pycelle stood at the edge of the group, his old head nodding nervously.
Ser Barristan Selmy stood guard, his hand on his sword. Ser Kevan Lannister watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
"It looks like I'm on trial," Joffrey made an observation, his voice dry.
"It's fine if you see it that way," Tywin said, his voice cold. "Now... I trust that you have a good explanation for your actions, Joffrey. So go ahead and tell us..." He paused, his eyes boring into Joffrey's. "Everything."
Joffrey took a breath, his eyes never leaving his grandfather's face. A soft smile formed on his lips. "I don't need to justify my actions to anyone... much less to those in this chamber. I left King's Landing because that is what I wanted to do. But since I am here, I may as well give you a warning..." He took a step forward, his presence suddenly more commanding.
Tywin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his stern features. "A warning? You think you are in a position to make threats?" He made a gesture to the white-cloaked knights, and these withdrew their swords. "Perhaps all those nonsensical rumors about sorcery have gotten into your head. You thought that little trick with the carpet was going to be enough to intimidate us?"
"Then..." Joffrey's eyes began to glow, a faint golden light that seemed to emanate from within. "Let me show you another trick."
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