Chapter 23: The Last Laugh
POV: Geralt
The Sept of Baelor had been transformed into a monument to excess that would have impressed even the Targaryens at their most decadent. Gold cloth draped every surface, flowers imported from across the known world filled the air with competing fragrances, and enough precious stones decorated the altar to buy several kingdoms.
But standing at the center of it all, King Joffrey Baratheon looked like a child playing dress-up in his father's clothes—and his crown was already beginning to betray him.
"Let the show begin," I thought, adjusting my grip on the wine pitcher as I took my position among the servants lining the walls. "Time to see if a fool's crown makes the same sound when it falls."
[Purple Wedding: Ceremony phase initiated]
[Crown Sabotage: Audio systems active and responding]
[Multiple Assassination Plots: Final preparation stages detected]
[Personal Position: Optimal for observation and selective intervention]
[Entertainment Value: Approaching maximum potential]
The first sign that today would be memorable came as Joffrey walked down the aisle toward his bride. Each step produced a soft musical tone from his crown—not loud enough to interrupt the ceremony, but noticeable enough to make nearby courtiers exchange puzzled glances.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
The sound was reminiscent of a child's toy rather than a symbol of royal authority, and I could see Joffrey's confusion growing as he realized something was wrong with his most important regalia.
But the weight-response compound was already working too. As Joffrey began his wedding vows—traditional phrases about honor and loyalty that sat poorly in his mouth—the crown grew noticeably heavier, forcing him to hold his head at an awkward angle.
[Crown Sabotage Phase One: Audio and weight systems operational]
[Target Response: Confusion and physical discomfort increasing]
[Audience Reaction: Suppressed amusement from observant courtiers]
[Timeline: 2-3 hours until full adhesion activation]
Margaery Tyrell stood beside him in a wedding gown that cost more than most lordships, her beauty radiant but her eyes holding the calculating intelligence that marked a true player of the game. She'd noticed the crown's musical accompaniment but was too well-trained to show surprise publicly.
Behind her, the Tyrell family watched with the focused attention of people who had invested enormous resources in this alliance and needed it to succeed. Lady Olenna's pale eyes swept the assembled crowd with predatory interest, cataloguing threats and opportunities with the expertise of someone who'd survived decades of political warfare.
"She knows something's coming," I realized, noting the subtle tension in the Queen of Thorns' posture. "The question is whether she knows how many somethings."
[Tyrell Family Assessment: High alertness but proceeding with plan]
[Olenna Tyrell: Suspicious of multiple irregularities]
[Margaery Tyrell: Professional composure despite crown anomalies]
[Conspiracy Status: Proceeding despite environmental variables]
The ceremony continued with traditional vows about unity and alliance, but Joffrey's increasingly awkward posture was making dignified speech difficult. The crown's weight fluctuations were responding to his emotional state—growing heavier when he attempted to project authority, lighter when genuine confusion broke through his royal mask.
And the musical accompaniment was becoming more noticeable as the crown's temperature rose with his growing agitation.
Plink-plink. Squeak. Plink.
"Do you, Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister," the High Septon intoned, his voice carrying across the sept with practiced authority, "take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"I do," Joffrey replied, but the crown's weight made him nod too vigorously, producing a cascade of musical tones that sounded distinctly like a child's xylophone.
Plink-plink-plink-SQUEAK-plink.
Suppressed laughter rippled through the assembled nobility. Not open mockery—no one was quite ready to risk Joffrey's wrath—but the kind of barely contained amusement that marked the beginning of a reputation's destruction.
[Audience Response: Dignity undermining achieved]
[Royal Authority: Steadily degrading through audio accompaniment]
[Joffrey Status: Increasing agitation and confusion]
[Crown Adhesion: 45 minutes until permanent attachment]
The ceremony concluded with the traditional kiss that sealed the marriage alliance between Houses Baratheon and Tyrell, but Joffrey's attempt at regal dignity was undermined by the crown's continued musical commentary. Every movement of his head produced new sounds, creating an impromptu percussion section for what should have been a solemn moment.
But as the wedding party moved toward the great hall for the feast, I caught sight of movement that made my enhanced reflexes tense with anticipation.
Ser Gregor Clegane was approaching through the crowd, his massive form cutting through the assembled nobility like a ship through waves. But instead of his usual intimidating presence, he moved with the awkward gait of someone whose equipment was betraying him at every step.
Squeak-groan-FART-squeak.
His armor's audio enhancements were working perfectly, transforming every movement into a symphony of embarrassing sounds that made dignified motion impossible. And the helmet modifications were clearly taking effect—I could see him grimacing as the increasingly foul odor made breathing unpleasant.
[Mountain Humiliation: Progressive degradation successful]
[Audio Systems: Full activation achieved]
[Intimidation Factor: Reduced to near-zero effectiveness]
[Oberyn Opportunity: Target reputation already compromised]
Prince Oberyn noticed the Mountain's approach and smiled with the kind of anticipation that spoke of decades of patient planning finally approaching fruition. But instead of facing an intimidating opponent, he would be confronting someone whose dignity had been systematically destroyed over the past three days.
The psychological advantage was entirely in Dorne's favor now.
But my attention was drawn back to the high table as the feast began and the real drama prepared to unfold. Joffrey sat in the place of honor, his crown now producing a constant stream of musical tones as his agitation increased and the adhesion compounds began their final activation.
Plink-squeak-plink-WHEEZE-plink.
"What is wrong with this thing?" he hissed to Cersei, trying unsuccessfully to adjust the crown's position.
"Nothing appears wrong, Your Grace," Cersei replied, though her voice carried the strain of someone whose patience was being tested by circumstances beyond her control.
"It's making noise! And it feels... wrong!"
"Crowns are heavy, my son. The weight of kingship—"
"It's not supposed to sound like a bloody music box!"
[Crown Adhesion: Final phase activation]
[Audio System: Maximum embarrassment achieved]
[Joffrey Distress: Critical levels reached]
[Timeline: 30-45 minutes until poison deployment]
The feast proceeded with increasingly elaborate courses, each designed to showcase the crown's wealth and the Tyrell family's resources. But the evening's entertainment was being provided by Joffrey himself, whose growing desperation to remove his musical crown was becoming the evening's primary spectacle.
He tugged at it with increasing frustration, producing cascades of tones that ranged from comical squeaks to what could only be described as mechanical farting sounds. The adhesion compounds had fully activated, making removal impossible without tools and time that weren't available during a public ceremony.
"Perfect timing," I thought, noting the way courtiers were no longer even trying to hide their amusement. "Let him die as he lived—as a joke that went too far."
But even as I enjoyed the spectacle of Joffrey's humiliation, I was watching for the signs that would indicate when the real assassination attempt was about to begin.
The Tyrell conspiracy was the most sophisticated, involving poison that would be delivered through wine during a carefully orchestrated moment of distraction. But I'd identified at least two other groups preparing their own attempts, and the convergence of multiple plots could create unpredictable results.
[Assassination Timeline: Multiple plots approaching execution phase]
[Primary Method: Poison delivery via wine cup]
[Secondary Threats: Unknown variables from competing conspiracies]
[Intervention Strategy: Ensure single successful plot, protect innocent parties]
The moment came during the traditional toast to the royal couple's happiness and prosperity. Joffrey rose from his seat, his crown producing a fanfare of ridiculous sounds as he lifted his wine cup toward the assembled nobility.
Plink-SQUEAK-whistle-plink-FART-plink.
"Lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms," he began, his voice carrying across the hall despite the musical accompaniment, "today marks a new alliance between—"
But his speech was interrupted by a coughing fit that began as theatrical clearing of the throat and quickly escalated into something far more serious.
The poison was taking effect.
[Assassination Execution: Primary plot successful]
[Poison Delivery: Via wine cup as planned]
[Joffrey Status: Acute respiratory distress commencing]
[Timeline: 3-5 minutes until fatality]
What followed was a scene that would be remembered for generations, but not for the reasons anyone had intended.
Joffrey's death throes were accompanied by the increasingly frantic musical performance of his sabotaged crown as he clawed at his throat and tried desperately to remove the source of both poison and humiliation. Each convulsion produced new tones, creating a macabre soundtrack that transformed his final moments from tragedy into farce.
Plink-plink-WHEEZE-squeak-GASP-plink-FART.
He collapsed to the floor, his golden crown rolling away from his head with a final discordant melody that sounded remarkably like a slide whistle's descending note. The King of the Seven Kingdoms died choking on poison while his crown played circus music.
[Joffrey Baratheon: Deceased]
[Method: Poison (as per original timeline)]
[Modification: Death accompanied by maximum humiliation]
[Crown Performance: Audio systems functional until final moment]
[Historical Impact: Dignity destroyed, tyranny reduced to comedy]
But even as the hall erupted into chaos, I was already implementing the next phase of my intervention. Multiple people would be suspected of the assassination, and the investigation that followed would determine who lived, who died, and who gained power from the resulting upheaval.
Time to ensure the right people survived and the wrong people paid for their crimes.
The evidence I'd planted over the past weeks would create a maze of false leads and contradictory testimonies that would protect Tyrion while implicating the truly guilty parties. Witnesses would remember seeing him in locations far from the poisoned wine cup. Documents would establish alternative timelines. And most importantly, other suspects would emerge with motives and opportunities that were equally compelling.
[Evidence Deployment: Protective documentation activated]
[Tyrion Alibi: Multiple witness confirmation available]
[Alternative Suspects: Compelling cases pre-established]
[Investigation Misdirection: Reasonable doubt creation successful]
But my most important intervention involved someone whose escape had been planned by others for entirely different reasons.
Sansa Stark stood frozen by the high table, her face pale with shock as she stared at Joffrey's corpse. In the original timeline, Petyr Baelish would use this moment to spirit her away to the Vale, where she would become another piece in his complex game of manipulation and control.
Not if I could help it.
The gifts I'd left in her chambers had included more than just sentimental tokens—they'd contained detailed maps of the Red Keep's service passages and the names of Northern loyalists who remained in the capital despite the political changes.
As guards moved to secure the hall and prevent anyone from leaving, I made my way toward Sansa with the purposeful stride of a servant responding to emergency orders.
"My lady," I said quietly, approaching her with the deference appropriate to a member of the serving staff. "Lord Stark's friends are waiting. The northern passages, as marked in your recent reading materials."
Her gray eyes met mine with startling intensity, and I saw recognition flicker across her features—not of me specifically, but of someone who knew things he shouldn't know and offered help when it was most needed.
"The wolf remembers," she whispered, using words that would mean nothing to casual observers but everything to someone who understood the deeper game being played.
[Sansa Extraction: Alternative escape route provided]
[Method: Northern loyalist network activation]
[Destination: Safe houses beyond Littlefinger's control]
[Political Impact: Removes major leverage from multiple factions]
She disappeared into the crowd with the fluid grace of someone who'd learned to move unseen through hostile territory. Behind her, Littlefinger was searching for his missing piece with the frustrated urgency of a man whose carefully laid plans had been disrupted by variables he hadn't anticipated.
But Sansa Stark was already beyond his reach, guided by people who served older loyalties and remembered oaths that transcended immediate political advantage.
[Mission Assessment: All primary objectives achieved]
[Joffrey Elimination: Successful with maximum humiliation]
[Tyrion Protection: Multiple safety nets deployed]
[Sansa Rescue: Alternative extraction successful]
[Historical Modification: Significant but controlled alterations]
As the chaos in the great hall reached its peak, I slipped away through the same service passages that had carried Sansa to safety. Behind me, guards were sealing the castle while investigators began the complex process of determining who had killed the king and why.
They would find evidence pointing in multiple directions, witness testimonies that contradicted each other, and enough reasonable doubt to ensure that justice would be complicated rather than simple.
But they would not find the truth about musical crowns, sabotaged armor, or the man who'd spent weeks ensuring that a royal wedding became a royal funeral wrapped in farce.
[Extraction: Successful departure from Red Keep]
[Evidence Trail: Zero connection to any interventions]
[Cover Identity: Terminated without complications]
[Strategic Position: Undetected and operational for future missions]
The Purple Wedding was over, and like the Red Wedding before it, it had become something entirely different than anyone had planned.
Joffrey Baratheon was dead, but instead of being remembered as a martyred king, he would be recalled as the boy who died choking while his crown played children's songs.
Justice had been served with a side of laughter, and the realm was better for it.
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