"So be it, Joffrey Baratheon," came the voice, deep and grand, from the farthest left where The Father stood. "I bless you to stand, both just and true, for those whom you guard, and the justice they're due."
Then came a feminine, loving, and kind voice. The statue of The Mother spoke. "Rule with love, let mercy guide; shield the weak who by your side abide. Spare the worthy, just, and true; grant them grace in all you do."
"Your blade shall rise, none shall contest. So long as you guard the Seven's blessed. No foe shall triumph, no fear shall grow—your courage shall burn, like endless woe. In war unmatched, in might untamed—be blessed, Joffrey, forever named." Came the blessing of The Warrior.
Next was The Smith. "It is your oath to take and keep, to conquer the strong and shield the weak. Be blessed, Joffrey, O child of mortal fate—restore, renew, and cultivate."
At last, it was The Maiden's turn, who Joffrey reckoned was rather pleased with his breeding spree lately.
Her statue was a beautiful, innocent-looking young woman. Her voice was so sweet, almost capturing his mortal heart. "Oh, Joffrey Baratheon, blessed you be, take more of my gift, yet heed this decree—your heirs shall be born with valor and grace, and your lovers shall cherish you all of their days. But mark my words and stray not afar—guard maidenly honor, as bright as a star. Through kingdom and conquest, through realms yet unseen, your glory shall shine—so long as you're clean."
Joffrey understood it. It was a warning. No raping and pillaging in his conquest of Essos.
"Wise you stand, though young in years. With time shall fade your doubts and fears. Behold my light, let wisdom shine. Joffrey Baratheon, fate is thine," spoke The Crone.
Finally, it was The Stranger's turn.
Joffrey felt a chill this time. He always wondered if it was The Stranger's doing that he came back to life. R'hllor said it was his prophecy. But he found it hard to believe.
The Stranger, neither male nor female, yet both. The face of death had its statue depict nothing but a hooded cloak.
"This second life, let no regrets remain; your soul's long journey has begun again. Through deeds, decide how your tale shall be spun—gentle in mercy, or painful, undone, Joffrey Baratheon."
One more warning, Joffrey felt. The Stranger was telling him to control that beast inside. That old, unhinged Joffrey.
"T-Thank you…"
With that, a small orb of white, bright light came from the seven statues and launched straight into Joffrey's body, spreading an unexplainable warmth. He didn't feel like a god, nor a superhuman beast. Yet he felt blessed, as if there was nothing left to fear.
"Be blessed, Joffrey Baratheon." The Seven spoke at the same time again, their fading voices muffled. "Bound by oath, honor's weight in hand. Break it, and ruin shall bury your land."
Once again, his eyelids felt heavy. But only for a moment as he blinked open quickly.
"What?"
As if all he'd seen and felt was a dream, he found himself still on his knees, hands clasped in the praying positions. He expected to wake up sprawled on the floor.
"Thank you." He looked at the seven statues.
After gathering his thoughts, he got up on his feet and came out of the Great Sept.
Thud! Thud!
He froze as soon as he'd come out of the Great Sept into the open platform. A massive crowd had gathered there below the flight of stairs. Meanwhile, the septas aligned the stairs on the sides, and the High Septon was in the middle.
Everyone had taken a knee.
"Long live King Joffrey!"
"Joffrey the Saint!"
What in the Seven's name are they doing?
Joffrey cluelessly walked down the stairs towards the High Septon. But as he passed each step, the septas kneeling on the side fully groveled, putting their heads down on the floor, towards his direction.
What happened?
"Long live Saint Joffrey!"
"Long live the King!"
The chants were endless and loud. Feral in nature, extremely fanatic. This was no chanting just to make the King happy. No, this felt actually heartfelt.
"What happened?" He reached the groveling High Septon and asked.
"Y-Your Grace… Y-Your Holiness!" High Septon looked up, his eyes tearful for no reason. Almost disgustingly. Then, he fanatically hugged Joffrey's leg. "Blessed am I, to stand before you! O anointed of the Seven, true-born Saint of their will… The stars themselves have sung your grace, and the realm is made whole in your light."
What the fuck is he rambling?
Annoyed, he held himself back from kicking the man as he might just tumble down the stairs and die. But he noticed Arya down there, also kneeling but her face was staring at the sky.
He followed her gaze and looked up.
He froze.
It was a little late in the afternoon, but it was by no means sunset. The sky was brightly lit without any clouds. Yet, there, right above them were seven stars, massive and glowing, sparkling like flickering torches.
And then it hit him. He felt a faint hum in his ears. A hum that was similar to the muffled voice of the Seven he'd heard. Only this one was very distant. But it was recognizable. If the Gods had spoken to him through those stars then…
That's why! That's why they were all repeating my name so many times.
Even if the blessing wasn't audible and understandable in that whispering, stifled voice, his name was highly recognizable.
"Joffrey the Saint!"
"Long live Saint Joffrey!"
A Saint? Hah, that sounds… delicious.
He hid his smirk with a warm smile and waved at the zealous people. He hadn't addressed their fears of the White Walkers yet. Rumors were being spread and the smallfolk were scared.
Now was the best time to deal with them.
"I prayed for victory over the dead, and the Gods answered. They granted me more than a mere blessing—they granted me purpose. It is the will of the Seven that the Crown stands not just against the dead, but against the distant godless too." Joffrey deepened his voice then. "Fear not, my children—my crown is no trinket, but a vow—I shall defend this land till death. For as long as this chest holds my breath!"
Woosh!
He punched above into the air.
"Long may we prosper!"
In response, the smallfolks chanted back.
"Long live the King!"
"Long live King Joffrey!"
For Joffrey, it was absolutely adrenaline-pumping. It tickled his feathers in just the right way. If he'd been the old Joffrey, this would have boosted his ego. He'd have grown overconfident and foolish.
No more.
Smallfolk were brainless sheep. They were easy to guide but also easily lost.
Time to march north.
####
"That was quite the performance," Tyrion said as he poured his nephew a goblet of wine. "How did you do it?"
"It was no trick, Uncle," Joffrey muttered, his voice low, still digesting the events from the day. "Even I have no answers. I cannot command the stars."
"Ah, so you truly are blessed. Color me shocked—though I've seen stranger things. Once watched a unicorn butt-fucking a whore with its horn. Mind you, I was drunk. Might've just been me and my cock." Tyrion dreamily japed.
Joffrey chuckled and looked at his uncle. The current Lord Hand and also the Master of Coin. "Have you prepared what I asked for?"
"Ah yes, as your late father was fond of saying—the King shits, and the Hand wipes. I have the decrees ready; that was the easy part. Executing them will be the tough part." Tyrion said and presented multiple parchments to Joffrey. "But I must say, if you manage to succeed, you might just establish a royal lineage that'll hold the throne for eternity."
"That's the plan, Uncle. Once the Iron Islands bend the knee, I'll see this decree carried out. Every noble house will be stripped of their armies, left with no more than fifty men. Only the Crown will keep a standing force—one hundred thousand swords at the very least. And the Lords will pay for it, of course, for their own protection. After I crush the dead, I want you to put the new taxes in place. Leave them no room to squirm, or they'll find a way to fight back."
Tyrion sipped on some wine; Life had been very rewarding for him over the last few years. He'd been knighted. He was the Lord Hand and the Master of Coin. He had the most power in Westeros after Joffrey.
"So you're serious about invading Essos?"
"That's the only way to keep the realm stable for centuries to come." Joffrey drank his wine. "We'll pour the focus of all noble houses on Essos. Lords and knights will serve our grand navy and land armies, battling for me. Winning me land, mile by mile—End of the White Walkers will make the beginning of my Empire, and it'll dwarf anything the old Valyrians of Ghiscari could have ever dreamt."
______________________
THIS STORY HAS ENDED.
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