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 56: Unrest
The cabin was dark, but sleep would not come.
Joffrey lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling while listening to the creak of the ship and the distant murmur of the waves.
Hours had passed since Khalak had leaped into the sea...hours of thinking, questioning, and searching for answers that would not come.
'I missed something,' he thought. 'Some detail. Some warning. The alchemist's diary was incomplete, or I misread it, or—'
A knock at the door.
Joffrey sat up and glanced at it. He already knew who was on the other side. "Come in, Varys."
Lord Varys slipped into the room, his soft robes rustling against the wooden floor. The eunuch's face was pale, and for once, he did not bother to hide his unease. The shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless hours, and his hands, usually clasped so calmly before him, fidgeted at his sides.
"My prince." Varys closed the door behind him. "I have spoken with the crew. And the Dothraki. I thought you should know what they are saying."
Joffrey swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I can already imagine, but go ahead and tell me."
"The sailors are frightened." Varys's voice was low, careful, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "They have seen many things in their years at sea, but never anything like what happened today. They compare you to the Red Priests of R'hllor, the fire worshippers of Volantis, who burn men alive in their temples." He paused, his pale eyes searching Joffrey's face for a reaction. "A few are calling you a demon. In whispers, of course."
Joffrey's expression did not change. "And the Dothraki?"
"Mostly angry and terrified." Varys shook his head slowly. "They already distrusted sorcery, and now they have seen it kill one of their own. They watched a man burn from the inside out, and they could do nothing to save him. You will not find any more volunteers among their ranks, I am sure of that. They would rather face a hundred enemies with their arakhs than submit to another one of your... experiments."
"That is what I thought." Joffrey rose from the bed, moving to the window. The sea was dark, choppy, and in the distance, he could see the faint flicker of lightning on the horizon. A storm was coming...he could feel it in the air, in the way the ship moved, in the growing tension that seemed to grip the crew.
The lack of volunteers did not concern him all that much. He had already decided against performing more experiments while on the ship. The confined space, the limited resources, and the risk of another disaster already meant it was a bad idea.
And he was sure that Asshai would have no shortage of desperate people willing to do anything for a few gold coins.
"What of the princess?" he asked. "How does she fare?"
Varys hesitated. "The princess has not left her cabin since the incident. Ser Jorah is with her. I do not think she is taking the death well."
"She knew the risks."
"Knowing the risks and accepting the consequences are two different things, my prince. She is young, and she has lost so much already. Another death, especially one so... dramatic... weighs heavily on her."
Joffrey was about to speak when he felt a presence on the other side of the door. A moment later, it burst open.
Daenerys stood in the doorway, her silver-gold hair wild around her face, her violet eyes blazing with fury. Behind her stood Ser Jorah. His face was a mask of barely contained anger. The two Dothraki bloodriders, Aggo and Kovarro, lurked in the corridor behind them, their dark eyes fixed on Joffrey with cold suspicion.
"Leave us," Daenerys said, her voice ice.
Varys glanced at Joffrey, who nodded. The eunuch slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. The Dothraki remained, but Daenerys waved them back with a sharp gesture.
Daenerys stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides. "You killed him."
Joffrey met her gaze without flinching. "The ritual killed him. There is a difference."
"Is there?" Her voice rose, cracking like ice under a heavy step. "You injected him with dragon's blood. You pressed a burning coal to his chest. You told him it would make him strong, make him young, make him useful. And now he is dead. Burned from the inside out, screaming in agony, while we watched and could do nothing."
"He knew the risks." Joffrey's voice was flat. "We all knew that death was a possibility."
"He was old." Daenerys's voice cracked. "He was desperate to be of use again. He trusted me." Her hands trembled. "His blood is on my hands as much as yours."
Joffrey was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a calm, measured tone. "Advancements require sacrifices, Princess. Every great discovery in history, every leap forward, has been built on the bodies of those who came before. The Valyrians did not become dragonlords without losing hundreds, perhaps thousands of subjects. The alchemist who wrote that book, Kaerion, buried dozens before he came close to success."
"I do not care about the Valyrians. I do not care about Kaerion." Daenerys stepped closer, her eyes burning with a fire that had nothing to do with dragons. "I care about my people. The few who remain. The ones who crossed the Red Waste with me, who starved and thirsted and died so that I could survive." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I will not let you sacrifice them for your ambitions."
"The next subject will have a higher chance of success. We learned from Khalak's death. We may know what went wrong—"
"We know nothing." Daenerys's voice was sharp as a blade. "You do not know why he burned. You do not know why the fire awakened. You are guessing, Joffrey. Experimenting. And my people are the ones paying the price."
Joffrey's jaw tightened. "I am trying to build you an army. An army that could conquer Westeros, that could defeat the Lannisters and the Baratheons and anyone else who stands in your way. You knew the cost when you agreed to this."
"I agreed to let you take volunteers." She gestured toward the door, toward the huddled Dothraki on the deck. "And they will not volunteer again."
"Then we will use others." Joffrey shrugged, a gesture of dismissal. "There are always others."
Daenerys stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes bright with unshed tears. For a moment, he thought she might strike him. But she did not. She turned away, her hand on the doorframe.
"No more." Her voice was low, final. "No more of my people will be sacrificed for this. Find another way, or find another ally."
She walked out, slamming the door behind her. The echo of it seemed to hang in the air, a judgment passed and delivered.
Joffrey stood in the silence for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "She does have quite the temper."
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
He sat down at his desk and began to write.
"The Targaryen princess has withdrawn her support for further experiments on her people. It is understandable, but frustrating. The young girl is unable to see the larger picture...that every failure brings us closer to success. The subject's death was far from meaningless. It was a necessary step."
" I will secure other subjects. The Dothraki will not volunteer again, and the sailors are frightened of me. However, this should not be an issue once we arrive on land. I predict there will be plenty of desperate souls in Asshai, willing to risk anything for power or gold."
"The real issue is the princess herself. At the moment, I have no substitute for her pure Valyrian blood, nor for her dragons. If she refuses to cooperate, I will need to be... persuasive."
He set down his quill and stared at the words.
"Persuasive." He had other methods to convince the girl to do what was needed. Methods he had wished not to use again, as they came with a heavy price. "Let us hope it does not come to that."
Using magic to bend a person's will for long periods was unreliable and dangerous. The Imperius Curse, for all its power, had a way of deteriorating the mind, especially in those who lacked magical resistance. And in this case, any damage to Daenerys's mind could affect the results of the experiments.
'Last resort,' he reminded himself. Only if there is no other way.
A flash of lightning lit up the window. Thunder followed, closer now, rattling the glass.
Joffrey rose and moved to the window. The storm that had been gathering on the horizon was closer now...much closer. The wind had picked up, whipping the waves into white-capped peaks. The ship creaked and groaned, straining against the current.
We should have passed this storm, he thought. The captain said the waters were treacherous, but this...
The rain began to fall, pounding against the deck above. He could hear the sailors shouting, the creak of ropes, the thud of boots on wood.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Saera lay naked on the bed, her golden hair spread across the pillow, her blue eyes half-closed in contentment.
The heat of their coupling still lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of oil and sweat. She reached out a hand toward him, her fingers tracing patterns on the empty sheets.
Joffrey rose from the bed and began to dress, pulling on his breeches and tunic. His mind was already elsewhere...on the failed experiment, on Daenerys's fury, on the need to find new subjects. The storm outside was a distant concern, a background noise to the chaos in his thoughts.
"My prince." Saera's voice was soft, sleepy. "Come back to bed. It is very late."
"I have work to do."
"At this hour?" She sat up, the sheet falling away from her breasts. "The storm is getting worse. You should stay here. Stay with me."
"The storm." Joffrey glanced at the window. The rain was falling in sheets now, driven by a wind that howled like a wounded animal. The ship was moving more than it should...lurching, groaning, straining against the waves. Wood groaned, ropes snapped, and somewhere above, a sailor screamed.
He had a bad feeling about this. A deep, primal instinct that whispered of danger. He decided to go check it out.
"I will return soon." He buckled his sword belt and moved to the door.
"Where are you going?" Saera's voice was anxious.
"Stay here." He opened the door and walked out.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The corridor was dark, lit only by the occasional lantern that swung wildly from its bracket.
Shadows danced on the walls, and the air was thick with the smell of rain and salt.
The ship lurched, and Joffrey grabbed the wall to steady himself. The storm was worse than he had thought, and it seemed to be growing more violent by the moment.
He climbed the stairs to the deck, pushed open the hatch, and stepped into chaos.
The wind hit him like a wall, driving rain into his face, whipping his hair across his eyes.
The deck was a nightmare of shouting men, snapping ropes, and waves that crashed over the railing, sweeping across the wood in sheets of white foam.
The Dothraki huddled near the mast, their dark faces pale with fear, their prayers lost to the wind.
The sailors ran back and forth, hauling on ropes, fighting to keep the sails from tearing apart. And at the helm, struggling with the wheel, stood Captain Xho, his dark skin gleaming with rain, his teeth bared in a snarl of effort.
Joffrey fought his way across the deck, his boots slipping on the wet wood. He reached the captain's side and grabbed the railing to steady himself.
"What is the situation?"
Captain Xho's voice was barely audible over the wind. "Never seen a storm like this one. The waves are too high, the wind too strong. We are losing control."
"Can we ride it out?"
"Ride it out?" The captain laughed, but there was no humor in it. "This is not a storm you ride out, Prince. This is a storm that swallows ships whole." He pointed to the sky. "Look."
Joffrey looked up.
The clouds were black...blacker than any clouds he had ever seen, blacker than the night sky itself.
They churned and twisted, lit from within by flashes of lightning that seemed to come from every direction at once. The rain was so thick that he could barely see the bow of the ship.
"We need to lower the sails," the captain shouted. "We need to batten down the hatches and pray."
"Pray to whom?"
"Any god who will listen." The captain's eyes were wild, desperate. "Because if this keeps up, we are all going to die."
Joffrey gripped the railing, his knuckles white. The ship lurched again, and a wave crashed over the deck, sweeping a sailor off his feet. The man screamed, slid across the wood, and disappeared over the side.
"MAN OVERBOARD!" someone shouted.
But no one could help him. No one could even see him.
Joffrey stared at the churning water, at the waves that rose higher than the mast, at the sky that seemed to be tearing itself apart. He knew the captain was right. This storm was too much, even for this sturdy ship. The Storm Dancer had weathered many gales, but this was something else...something unnatural, something that seemed to have a will of its own.
'We are going to sink, 'Joffrey thought, 'if I do not do something soon.'
"Nooo!" Captain Xho screamed when he saw it. A wave twice as big as the ship itself, rising from the darkness like a living thing, its crest illuminated by lightning. "It is over..." he muttered, his voice hollow with despair.
Joffrey stepped forward, his boots planted firmly on the deck. The wind howled around him, but he did not stagger. The rain lashed his face, but he did not blink.
"Do not give up just yet, Captain." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "Go ahead and pray to your gods. They may answer tonight."
His green eyes began to glow.
A.N: - Remember to comment, vote, and/or leave a review if you have the time. Those things help me a lot and I would really appreciate it.
You can support me on P@treon if you like and get 10 advanced chapters. You can also find character images to view for free in Collections/Got: Sorcerer Prince Images
-patreon.com/Kriogenix
For donations and commissions, go to ko-fi.com/kriogenix