Disclaimer:
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 137: Sweet Tea
The arena was a complete mess.
Joffrey Baratheon stood at its center, his boots planted firmly in the dust, his green eyes fixed on the row of target dummies that lined the far wall.
The dummies had been hastily constructed from straw and wood, their crude forms a poor substitute for living flesh. But they would serve.
He raised his hand, his fingers extended, and spoke the word.
"Reducto."
A spark of crimson light erupted from his palm, streaking across the arena with a sound like tearing silk. It struck the first dummy square in the chest…and kept going. The dummy did not simply break. It disintegrated completely… its straw and wood were reduced to fine dust in the span of a heartbeat.
The beam continued past it, carving a trench through the stone floor behind it while scattering rubble and debris in all directions.
Joffrey lowered his hand, his jaw tight with frustration.
'Too much… again.'
The Dothraki who had gathered to watch him train shifted uneasily.
They had seen him practice his magic for weeks now, had watched him destroy target after target with terrifying ease.
But they had also seen the aftermath…the craters in the ground, the shattered walls, the destruction that followed in his wake. They feared him, yes. But they also feared for themselves.
Joffrey ignored them. Their fear was irrelevant. Their worship was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that he regained his control.
He raised his hand again, his focus narrowing. This time, he would use less power. This time, he would-
'No. That is not how magic works. You cannot simply use "less power." You must shape the intent. You must-'
He shook the thought away. The voice in his head was his own, the echo of years of study, of practice, of failure.
He had been Harry Potter once, had wielded magic with the ease of breathing. But that was a different life, a different world, a different body.
This body was new, untrained, and unstable. The power surging through his veins was like a flood, impossible to control, impossible to channel.
'And yet I must control it,' he thought. 'Or I will destroy everything I have built.'
"Reducto."
Another spark of light, another explosion of dust and debris. The second dummy was obliterated, along with a section of the wall behind it.
The Dothraki flinched, their horses shying away from the blast.
Joffrey lowered his hand, his frustration mounting.
The spells were working…he did not doubt that. The problem was that they were working too well. Every spell he cast was more powerful than he intended, more destructive than he wanted. He could not fine-tune his power, could not control the flow of magic through his body.
'It is like trying to water a single plant with a waterfall,' he thought. 'Impossible.'
"Are you trying to destroy the entire city, or just this one arena?"
Joffrey turned at the sound of the voice, his irritation fading slightly.
Saera was approaching, her blue dress catching the afternoon light, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple braid. Two servants walked behind her, carrying trays laden with food and drink.
"I am training to avoid doing precisely that," Joffrey said, his voice flat.
Saera's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I know. I have brought you something to eat. You missed lunch again."
Joffrey sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "I was not hungry."
"That is what you always say." Saera gestured to the servants, who stepped forward and offered Joffrey a cup of hot tea and a plate of pastries. "You cannot train on an empty stomach, my Prince. You will exhaust yourself to death, and I can't have that."
Joffrey stared at the offerings, his expression unreadable. He did not want tea. He did not want pastries.
He wanted to master his magic, to regain control over the power that surged through his veins like wildfire.
But the tea was warm, and the pastries smelled sweet, and Saera was looking at him with those piercing blue eyes of hers, filled with concern.
He took the tea. "You do not need to take care of me all the time," he said, his voice softer than he had intended.
Saera's smile widened slightly. "That is my job, is it not? I am your handmaid."
"It does not have to be anymore." Joffrey's voice was measured. He had been over this with her before, had tried to give her a way out. "I thought I made you a good offer. The coin, the passage back to Volantis. You would never need to work again. You could live in comfort, in safety."
Saera's expression flickered. A shadow crossed her face, a hint of something that might have been hurt. "And I rejected that offer," she said, her voice firmer than before. "I told you, my Prince. I wish to stay at your side. I thought I had made that clear already."
Joffrey was silent for a long moment, studying her face. She was beautiful; he had always known that. Her blonde hair, her warm skin, her gentle smile. She had been with him since the beginning, had followed him across the sea, had shared his bed and his chambers. She was loyal, devoted, utterly without guile.
And she was in love with him.
'I should not have let this happen,' he thought. 'I should have sent her away long ago.'
But he had not. He had allowed her to stay, had allowed her to grow close, had allowed her to believe that there was something more between them. And now he did not know how to let her go without breaking her heart.
"Saera," he said, his voice gentle. "I care for you. You must know that. But I do n-"
"Do not say it." Saera's voice was soft, but firm. "I know what you are going to say. I have heard it before. You are not the kind of man who loves. You are not the kind of man who settles. I understand that, my Prince. I have always understood that."
Joffrey looked at her, his green eyes searching hers. "Then why do you stay?"
Saera smiled, and there was something sad in it, something resigned. "Because I choose to. Because being at your side, even for a little while, is worth more than a lifetime of comfort anywhere else. Because..." She paused, her dark eyes glistening.
Joffrey was silent for a long moment. He did not know what to say. He had never been good at this, at the soft words, the gentle touches, the careful handling of another person's heart.
He had been Harry Potter, and he had loved. He had loved Ginny, Hermione and Luna. He had loved his friends, had loved the world he had fought to save. But that all felt so far away…a different life…a different person.
"Very well," he said, his voice flat. "Stay, if you wish. I won't tell you to leave again. But dont expect me to change."
Saera's smile did not waver. "I do not want you to change, my Prince. I want you to be exactly who you are. And I will be here, at your side, for as long as you will have me."
She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. Joffrey did not pull away.
"Finish your tea," she said, her voice gentle. "And then you may return to your training. But I will be waiting for you in the pyramid's chamber this evening, as I always am."
She turned and walked away, her servants falling into step behind her. Joffrey watched her go, his tea growing cold in his hands.
'Strange girl,' he thought. 'Strange, foolish girl. She does not know what she has chosen.'
He raised the tea to his lips and drank, the warmth spreading through his chest.
<><>
Joffrey finished his tea in silence, the warmth spreading through his chest.
He set the cup down and turned back to his training. The dummies awaited him. He raised his hand, his focus narrowing, his magic surging through his veins.
"Reducto."
Another spark of crimson light erupted from his palm, smaller this time, more controlled. It struck the third dummy square in the chest…and this time, only the head vanished. The body remained standing, its straw and wood intact.
Joffrey lowered his hand, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction.
'Progress,' he thought. 'Finally, progress.'
He allowed himself a small smile, the first in weeks. The smile faded quickly, replaced by the familiar weight of his thoughts. Saera's face lingered in his mind, her blue eyes filled with affection, her voice soft and certain.
'I will be here, at your side, for as long as you will have me.'
Joffrey shook the thought away. He could not afford distractions. He had work to do.
He raised his hand again, his focus sharpening. "Reducto."
Another beam, another controlled blast. This time, the dummy's head vanished cleanly, leaving the body untouched.
'Better,' he thought. 'Much better.'
He was about to try again when a voice interrupted his concentration.
"Your Grace."
Joffrey turned to find a servant standing at the edge of the arena, his face flushed with exertion. He was one of Daenerys's attendants, a young man with dark skin and nervous eyes.
"What is it?" Joffrey asked, his voice flat. He did not recall this person's name.
"The Queen requests your presence, Your Grace," the servant said, bowing low. "She says it is urgent. Someone has arrived in Meereen. Someone unexpected. She needs your advice."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "Unexpected? Who?"
The servant hesitated. "I... I do not know the details, Your Grace. The Queen said she would explain when you arrived."
Daenerys rarely requests to speak with him in private. For her to do this… it can only mean that something significant had happened.
"Very well," he said, sheathing his magic. "I will come."
He turned to the Dothraki who had been watching his training. "Fix the arena the best you can. I will return tomorrow."
The Dothraki bowed their heads, their eyes still filled with fear and reverence. Joffrey ignored them and followed the servant out of the arena.
<><>
The pyramid was bustling with activity when Joffrey arrived. Servants hurried through the halls. Guards stood at their posts, their eyes watchful, their hands resting on their weapons.
Joffrey walked through the corridors. He could feel the tension in the air, a sense of something wrong that prickled at the edge of his consciousness.
'Something has happened,' he thought. 'Something important.'
He found Daenerys in the chamber next to the throne room, where they held small council meetings. She was standing by the window, her silver hair gleaming in the fading light of the late afternoon, her violet eyes fixed on the city below.
"You summoned me," Joffrey said, his voice flat. "That's rare."
Daenerys turned to face him and a soft smile formed on her lips. "I did. Thank you for coming."
"I figured it was urgent." Joffrey stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the chamber. It was empty save for the two of them.
Daenerys's voice was cool. " I believe it could be, so I wanted to speak with you alone first."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "About what?"
Daenerys studied him for a long moment, her violet eyes searching his face. "Before that, I wanted to remind you that you missed another council meeting this morning," she said, her voice carrying a hint of reproach. "The third one this month."
Joffrey shrugged, his expression unconcerned. "I told you when you offered me the position. I am not interested in ruling. I have other things to worry about."
Daenerys's lips pressed into a thin line. "Your magic, you mean. And how is that going?"
"I am making progress, but it is slower than I would like. There is no problem if I just want to destroy things, but I cannot do anything that requires finesse." He paused, his green eyes meeting hers. "But you did not summon me to discuss my attendance record."
Daenerys was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. "No. I did not." She turned to face him fully, her expression serious. "Your uncle has arrived in Meereen."
Joffrey froze. "My uncle?"
"Jaime Lannister," Daenerys said. "He arrived at the gates this morning. He claims to have fled King's Landing. He claims to have turned against his sister."
Joffrey stared at her, his mind racing. Jaime Lannister? Here? In Meereen? It made no sense. Jaime was part of the Kingsguard. He was Cersei's lover, her protector, her most loyal servant. He would never abandon her.
"Are you certain it is him?" Joffrey asked, his voice carefully controlled.
"I have seen him with my own eyes," Daenerys said. "He looks like Jaime Lannister. He sounds like him. And Tyrion seems very sure it's him." She paused, her violet eyes narrowing. "He told us a story. He said Cersei has gone mad. That she is obsessed with killing you. That her demands became so extreme he could not follow them. He tried to have her declared insane, but she discovered his plot and ordered his arrest. He fled with the help of your grandfather."
Joffrey listened to her whole explanation. He knew Cersei better than anyone. He knew her ambition, her cruelty, her love for her children. He also knew her love for Jaime. She would never order his arrest. Not truly. She would sooner die than harm him.
'Unless...' he thought. 'Unless she truly has gone mad.'
But even then, his grandfather Tywin would never allow it. Tywin Lannister was a pragmatist. He would see the danger of a mad queen, would see the damage she could do to House Lannister. He would have taken control long before she could destroy everything.
"Something is wrong," Joffrey said, his voice flat.
Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "You do not believe his story?"
"I believe he is lying," Joffrey said. "I do not know why, but I believe he is lying. Cersei would never order Jaime's arrest, no matter how mad she became. And if she did, Tywin would have stopped her. He would have taken control of the situation before it spiraled out of hand."
Daenerys was silent for a long moment. "You do not trust him."
"I trust no one," Joffrey said. "Least of all a Lannister who appears out of nowhere with a convenient story."
Daenerys nodded slowly. "I had the same thought. I have kept him under guard since his arrival. He is in one of the noble bedrooms, with three Unsullied at his door. He is not going anywhere."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "I want to see him."
"I thought you might." Daenerys's voice was calm. "I have arranged a meeting for tomorrow morning. You may question him yourself."
Joffrey nodded, his mind already churning with possibilities.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, the sound of bells filled the air.
The alarm bells. The ones that signaled danger, that warned of attack, that called the city to arms.
Daenerys's eyes widened. "The alarm?! What is happening?"
Joffrey felt a chill run down his spine. His magic surged through his veins, responding to the sudden burst of adrenaline. He extended his senses, reaching out to cover everything around him.
And then he felt that something was wrong.
"Saera," he whispered.
He did not wait for Daenerys to respond. He bolted out of the room, his enhanced speed carrying him through the halls at an impossible pace.
The guards shouted in surprise, but he ignored them. He had to reach her. He had to-
'I will be waiting for you in the pyramid's chamber this evening, as I always am.'
Her words echoed in his mind.
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