GOT: The Golden Lion

Joffrey had a different reason for venturing beyond the wall so quickly and sending Jon away as soon as possible. Crastar's Keep was still under the mutineers' thumb, which meant Bran Stark was somewhere nearby.

He thought plenty of times about what to do with the cripple. But in the end, the best Stark was a dead Stark, unless it was a woman. Beyond that, even if he somehow destroyed the Three-Eyed Raven in his cave, there was no guarantee Bran wouldn't master his abilities.

"Surround the entire Craster's Keep and make sure nobody can escape. Leave the women and children alive, kill all the men—especially a cripple," Joffrey commanded Ser Arthur. "Whoever kills the cripple will get the reward of a hundred gold from my personal treasury."

Of course, the Unsullied didn't desire or need gold. But it was still a reward they could use when they retire, as Joffrey had promised.

"Go ahead," he gave the command.

Right away, under Ser Arthur's leadership, the encirclement started to get smaller and smaller, two thousand men creeping closer to Craster's Keep. The cries of women and children were audible throughout the woods, what was happening inside was no secret to any.

Shhh~

The sound of two thousand spears sliding against the faces of shields was deafening.

All the sounds inside the keep quickly died down.

"We surrender!"

As soon as the first mutineer came out to scout, he fell to his knees in fright. There were just too many soldiers that he couldn't even imagine fighting for his life.

Thud!

"I surrender too!"

One after another, the mutineers started dropping to their knees after coming out of the keep. The Unsullied didn't kill them either, only tied their hands and legs before throwing them to the side—pigs to be slaughtered later.

Joffrey saw the entire process from a safe distance, a few Unsullied still with him for his protection. He watched as Ser Arthur led the men into the keep and waited for the final results to come out.

'Please be there, please be there…' Joffrey prayed to the Seven. 'I don't have much time.'

An hour passed, and finally, Ser Arthur returned, looking bloodied. "Your Grace, we found no cripples inside. But we did find a contraption that can be used by a cripple. A boy and girl also tried to attack us, but we killed them swiftly."

Joffrey quickly looked further north. "Take a thousand men and follow me. Bring jars of Wildfire. We're going further north."

If you're so desperate to reach that cave, I'll burn you with it.

####

"Hodor!"

"Hodor!"

"Hodor!"

"Stop running, Hodor. We can't escape this… I've seen it already."

"Hodor!"

Bran sighed and still guided the big man as he lay in his arms. He had accepted his fate after his last vision. An army with the King himself, he couldn't help but feel bitter about it. He wanted to live, he wanted to walk, and yet here he was—dying.

"That way," he guided Hodor toward the cave of the Three-Eyed Raven. He hoped to at least ask the man why he was guided all the way to the North. Why give him a false purpose that, in the end, meant nothing?

Clop! Clop!

"Hodor!"

"There's nothing we can do." Bran surrendered himself at the sound of horses galloping behind.

"Ho-dor!"

Bran looked and noticed the tree from his dreams right before him. A peculiar tunnel led under it. He knew this was the place he was meant to come, where the Three-Eyed Raven resided. But it didn't even matter anymore.

Soon after, the ground started vibrating, and eventually, the loud grunts of men manning their horses increased. An entire army appeared seemingly out of nowhere and surrounded everything, even the tree. They were all donned in black fur and heads covered with helmets. They looked no different than the bringers of death beyond the wall, simply black-robed instead of ice-white.

"Ser Arthur! Light the entire tree on fire. Do not approach the cave. Burn it from a distance!" Joffrey's loud command echoed as his horse cut through the surrounding lines of horses and came to the front. "You seem to have lost your way home, Brandon Stark."

"King Joffrey," Bran voiced calmly, his tone still as young and youthful as the last time they had met. "I never expected I'd see a southern King beyond the wall."

"Circumstances are such that I had no option. I'm sure you're already aware," Joffrey said, trying to see how much the boy knew.

"Thank you for saving my mother."

Brilliant! He has no idea about my schemes. All the back-breaking hard work felt worth it. But does he know why I'm here?

"But I don't know why it all came to be this way. You were not a part of the future I was shown," Brandon asked, confused. "The Three-Eyed Raven was wrong about you."

Joffrey shrugged, "One thing I've understood during these past few years is that magic is a bitch. It takes you by surprise when you least expect it. You found your magic when you lost everything. I found mine when I lost… No, betrayed and backstabbed. In the end, both of us are slaves of fate. Both of us fight to stop the true threat in the north."

"Then why must you do this?" Brandon asked.

"Because I was an ignorant boy once." Joffrey unsheathed his sword. "But now, I've learned what it means to truly be alive—to live! I have no animosity with you, Bran; I pity you. What Cersei and Jaime did to you, I shall have them slain soon enough. But there can only be one with the burning fire—there can only be one Azor Ahai—only one who knows the past and the future!"

"Hodor is strong." Joffrey ordered, "Use the arrows. Aim for the head."

In an instant, two dozen Unsullied came forward with bows at the ready. They aimed and took the shot right away. As expected, Hodor had no idea he was the target at that time, so he sat down to shield Bran.

Arrows pierced through his back, and eventually, a few punctured his lungs, and others reached his heart. Some plunged into his nape at the same time.

While constantly shouting "Hodor!" he lost his life, shielding Bran.

The young Stark boy was in tears, helplessly lying there. It was pitiful enough that even Joffrey felt terrible, wondering if he had become more dangerous than the Joffrey he once was.

"Forgive me, it had to be this way." Joffrey approached only after Ser Arthur had kicked Hodor's body aside and ensured he was dead. "But if it's a choice between you and me—I choose me… Ha!"

The King's sword came down with a hard plunge and pierced straight through the young Stark's neck, sliding past the insides, and almost severing his head apart. For the entire time, Bran kept staring at his killer, yet there was no hatred—he had seen it happen already.

It was inevitable.

"Burn their bodies to ashes, same for the tree," Joffrey ordered and stepped away from the dead bodies.

He didn't get back on his horse, for now, silently staring as everything took to fire. He heard some cries from inside soon after, knowing it was the children of the forest, the abomination that created another abomination.

All that's left now is Jon Snow and Daenerys.

Joffrey started plotting his next moves. Sansa shall be my pawn for the North, Catelyn for the Riverlands, and the Vale. Grandfather has Westerlands; I'll claim the Stormlands soon enough—this leaves the Reach and Dorne.

But one thing was clear enough for now. The war of five kings was over. Yes, the Ironborn were still left, but Joffrey didn't see them as contenders from the beginning. For now, Westeros was truly his.

At last, he had become its one true King.

####

There was to be no mention or record of what Joffrey did to Bran and the tree. No mention of them to be made or left in history. The young Stark was declared dead, lost beyond the wall as if he never lived.

Surprisingly, instead of feeling any remorse, Joffrey felt calmer and energized. He could bet if he had any of his women with him, he'd have fucked them for an entire day and night without stopping.

But for now, his focus was on dealing with the Wildlings. The goal was to use them as cannon fodders while giving them the least benefit possible. The only thing he wished to achieve was to ensure they didn't become the army of the dead.

Crastar's Keep was cleaned and turned into a small manor fit for the King. The blood and scent of vile acts that occurred inside were wiped away, and the women there were sent to Castle Black.

It took Jon Snow eight days to return, but when he did, he returned with the rumble of the ground. An army of two thousand Wildlings marched on foot to the Craster's Keep. A newly constructed watchtower quickly spotted them.

Joffrey, also on that tower, used the far-eye instrument to look. As asked, there appeared to be no giants or large animals in the army.

What do we have here?

But just as Joffrey looked for Mance Rayder, he noticed a peculiar figure other than Jon Snow. A tall woman of all things, beautiful and young, her all-white clothes caught his eyes, and more than that, her blonde hair was gleaming like fine honey. I guess the meeting won't be as boring as I predicted.

"Prepare the food and send the messenger party." Joffrey quickly ordered and returned to the prepared hall of Craster's Keep.

Inside the main hall, a large, long table was set. On the longer sides were multiple ordinary chairs. But on the shorter edges were one higher, taller, regal chair each. Knowing how massive the Wildling army was, he dared not take the matter lightly.

So he waited alone in the hall, in his seat. He ate an apple silently. Too cold for his taste, he felt. He truly missed King's Landing and his girls. It had been more than half a year since he started this journey.

"Your Grace, they have arrived." Ser Arthur knocked at the door and opened it, leading the small crowd in. First entered Jon Snow. Behind him came an old-looking Mance Rayder, and, finally, the blonde woman Joffrey had seen.

Now being so close, he couldn't help but wonder how in the Seven hells, the Wildlings produced something so gorgeous. She looked like a perfect sculpture carved with the finest of features. High sharp cheekbones, eyes that were almost blue, and beyond all—slender with a full bosom—just the type Joffrey loved the most.

Did they abduct some highborn woman? How did they make someone like her? Joffrey felt amused by her mere proud presence. He could see the fierceness in her eyes as she surveyed the hall.

"Your Grace," Mance Rayder spoke first.

Joffrey finally looked away from the woman, not even hiding his attraction. "Forgive me, but I know not how to address you, King… beyond the wall."

"Anything you like, for I know you will accept anything but the rise of another King in your own lands." Mance spoke very diplomatically, "I… I am astounded. The rumors spoke of a boy King, frail and thin… but ..."

Joffrey chuckled and gestured for them to take their seats. "Eventually, every lad has to grow into a man. A few battles, a few brushes with death, and surviving assassinations do that just fine."

"That's better, since now we both know the cost of war," Mance replied, introducing those who came with him. "This is Val, my wife's sister. This is Lord of Bones, and…"

Joffrey didn't even listen to the other names as he locked his gaze with the fine, Wildling woman. She stared back all the same, but her gaze contained more disgust than desire.

"I know about the White Walkers or the Others, call them whatever." Joffrey got straight to the point. "I know they're amassing an army to attack all of the living world."

"And yet you choose to keep the walls shut," Val barked all of a sudden, giving Joffrey the first taste of her voice. It wasn't too feminine but had a unique flavor.

Joffrey smiled at her, "Isn't that why we're here? What do you want?"

"Allow us to pass through the wall and settle," Mance spoke. "Or else we'll have to make our own path by any means possible. Both sides represent death to us, King Joffrey."

"Impossible," Joffrey replied. "For now… You wil—I mean you Free Folk have lived out there without knowing the laws of the South, the way of living. We don't plunder and loot down south; we grow our own food, make our own things, and sell them if we have too much. That's the basis of civilization. Tell me, Mance, can your people get accustomed to that?"

"We are no kneelers!" Val voiced again, fire burning in her eyes.

Joffrey shrugged, "Even if I allow you to not kneel before me, can you guarantee your people won't ravage the lands, plunder whatever they find, rape any woman they see? Will the Northern lords feel safe in your presence? Won't they join hands to deal with you?"

The rest of the Wildings may have the delusion they can obey rules, but Mance does not. He had lived on both sides of the world and understood the difference in culture. "Then what do you propose?"

"Mance, you are the King Beyond the Wall, but on my side, you will be a lord at best. Your wife will be a noble lady, and your children will be your heir. The Free Folk will be your people, your workforce. I will allow you to make Craster's Keep your residence. Select a batch of one thousand Free Folk you can guarantee will behave.

"We shall move your people down south in batches. This will give enough time to settle them all and learn the trade of the land. A sword is just a tool south of the wall, not a way of life."

"But nothing grows in the North. How will you ensure the survival of my people?" Mance inquired, wanting to reserve his decision until everything was revealed.

Joffrey relaxed back in his seat and crossed his arms, "For the Southern lords to give a damn about the North, we must first prove to them what danger is approaching. Mance, if you can bring me at least one of the wights, it will be enough to prove to the world the White Walkers have returned. Food will flow into the North for your cause, along with means to protect the Wall further."

Mance fell into deep thoughts and took his sweet time. That whole time, Joffrey played a staring contest with Val. He loved her unbreakable spirit, almost as if challenging him.

"I also know how to make blades that can kill White Walkers with a mere slice."

"What?!" Mance exclaimed this time, standing up from his seat in shock. "There is such a thing?!"

"Don't forget, this isn't the first time the dead are rising. They have been defeated before," Joffrey replied.

"H-How do you know such things?" Mance inquired.

Joffrey hummed, asking that himself at times. "Gods? Beings of unknown origin? They guide, and I follow. White Walkers are not invincible."

Mance Rayder looked at the ones he had brought along for any objection. Seeing none, he nodded at Joffrey. "I will form a team and send them to catch a wight. It will take time, and there is no guarantee they'll return."

Joffrey nodded and looked at Val. "How about this? To strengthen the relationship between the Free Folk and Westeros, you send a representative with me to King's Landing."

"A representative?" Mance frowned.

Joffrey continued, "I think I'm lacking a personal Kingsguard. Why not allow your wife's sister to become one? She will be under an oath and protected by the King's authority. As a Kingsguard, she will live in the Red Keep itself, at the core of power and politics."

All heads turned to Val, and even Jon stared at the woman.

Then finally they looked at Joffrey's face, and knew very well that representation had nothing to do with it. But the idea did sound somewhat interesting. Knowing what was happening at the center of power was a great boon.

"What do you think?" Mance asked the young woman sitting beside him.

Val looked confused, "What is a Kingsguard?"

"A knight oathbound to protect the King at all cost, no matter what. They can never marry, never make a family, no lands or titles, and always wear white armor," Jon Snow explained briefly. "The appointment lasts a lifetime unless dismissed by the King."

Val sneered right away, "I'm no kneeler."

Joffrey scoffed, "I thought you wanted to help your fellow Free Folk."

"I do, but I do not kneel to any."

Oh, you will for me; Plenty of times. Joffrey felt a fire burn in his heart the more he talked to her.

"You can speak with powerful men and women of Westeros, ensure your people in the North receive food and weapons to defend themselves. Warm clothes to keep themselves heated." Joffrey kept on going, burying her in guilt. "Is that all below a mere salute to the King? I don't ask you to do it out of loyalty, but rather as a show of duty to blend in. To prove that Free Folk are not savages."

In the end, Joffrey was indeed a master manipulator.

"I won't kneel to just anyone." Val clenched her teeth in anger, hating being put in such a situation. "I demand a duel. Force me to my knee if you can!"

"What?!" Jon Snow got up quickly. "No, you must not."

"A duel it is," Joffrey agreed, which shocked everyone—even Val, from the look on her face. "Ser Arthur, bring me my sword. The rest of you, wait here and have supper. I want to duel her in privacy."

Mance didn't like that. What if Joffrey used his soldier's help? "No, that won—"

"Fine by me!" Val barked, however. "Lead the way."

Mance sighed in defeat and eased into his seat. Although he felt confident about Val, after seeing the young King, he didn't know what to feel.

___________________

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