Game of Thrones(ASOIAF): The Sorcerer Prince

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 102: The Fate of the North

The walls of Winterfell rose before them. Their ancient stones were weathered by millennia of wind and snow but still stood firm and strong.

The castle had been there for eight thousand years already, as a monument to the strength of the Starks and the endurance of the North.

The journey from Castle Black had taken less than an hour, a distance that would have required two days of hard riding on horseback.

Joffrey guided the flying carpet downward with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the courtyard below.

It was bustling with activity...with servants rushing about their duties, guards patrolling the walls, the sounds of daily life echoing off the stone.

The people of Winterfell had not yet noticed the strange arrival from the sky, but that would change soon enough.

”Hold on,” Joffrey said, his voice flat. ”We’re landing.”

The carpet descended smoothly, its worn surface skimming over the snow-covered ground. They landed in the center of the courtyard, startling the servants and guards who had been going about their business.

Shouts of alarm rose up, hands flying to weapons, faces pale with confusion and fear.

”Stand down!” Ned’s voice rang out, commanding and authoritative. ”I am your Lord! I’ve returned from the Wall!”

The guards paused, their eyes widening as they recognized the Lord of Winterfell.

A murmur ran through the crowd, a mixture of shock and relief. They had not expected to see him again, had assumed he was lost to the chaos of the North.

”Lord Stark!” one of the guards called out. ”You’re alive! We thought...”

”I know what you thought,” Ned said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. ”But I am here now. And I have brought guests.”

Joffrey stepped off the carpet, his boots crunching on the frozen ground. The phoenix was perched on his shoulder, its golden eyes studying the unfamiliar surroundings with curiosity.

Val followed close behind, her spear still in hand, her eyes darting across the courtyard with the vigilance of a warrior who had learned never to trust a moment of peace.

Gilly came next, her baby cradled in her arms. She was keeping her head down, trying not to bring attention to herself.

Jon stepped off the carpet, his hand resting on Longclaw, his eyes fixed on the familiar walls of the childhood home he had not expected to see again.

Melisandre followed, her red robes a stark contrast to the pure white snow of the yard, her ruby glowing at her throat.

And finally, Ghost padded off the carpet, his white fur blending with the snow, his red eyes scanning the courtyard for threats.

The doors of the Great Hall burst open, and figures emerged into the cold air. Robb Stark was the first, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

”By the gods! Is that really you, Father?” Robb’s voice cracked with emotion. He rushed forward, his arms open wide. ”You’re alive! We thought you were dead! We just received news that...”

Ned embraced his son, his hands gripping Robb’s shoulders with a strength that belied his exhaustion. ”I am alive, Robb. It’s a long story, but I am alive.”

Behind Robb came Catelyn Stark, her eyes wide with emotion, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. She rushed forward, her eyes filled with tears. ”Ned! Ned, I thought I had lost you!” She threw her arms around him, her sobs muffled against his chest.

”I’m here, Cat,” Ned said, his voice soft. ”I’m here.”

The family reunion was warm and emotional, a moment of joy in the midst of so much darkness.

But then Catelyn pulled back, her eyes scanning the group behind her husband. They landed on Jon Snow, and her expression shifted with a flicker of something complicated, something that had always been there between them.

”Jon?” she said, her voice uncertain. ”You’re... you’re here too?”

Jon stepped forward, his expression guarded. ”I am, Lady Stark. It’s a long story.”

Catelyn’s eyes moved to Joffrey, then to Melisandre, then back to Jon. ”You’ve changed. There’s something different about you.”

Jon’s jaw tightened. ”I have been through a lot.”

Before anyone could respond, Myrcella’s voice cut through the crowd. ”Joffrey!”

Joffrey turned to see his sister pushing through the gathered crowd, her face bright with relief. Tommen was right behind her, his eyes wide with wonder at the sight of his brother. They rushed forward, wrapping their arms around him in a tight embrace.

It was then that Myrcella noticed something was missing. ”Your arm... what happened to the one you made?”

”Ah...” Joffrey glanced down at his stump, as if he had just remembered he no longer had the metallic one. ”I lost it during a battle. Don’t worry about it. I can make another one whenever I need it.”

Tommen’s eyes were fixed on the phoenix on Joffrey’s shoulder. ”What is that? It’s beautiful!”

”Oh... this is a phoenix,” Joffrey replied. ”A long story. I’ll explain later.”

As the siblings embraced, the Stark family reunion continued around them. Robb had pulled back from his father, his eyes scanning the group. ”Hold on, Father... where is Bran? He went north with you.”

The question hung in the air like a blade.

Ned’s expression faltered, his eyes dropping to the ground. Catelyn’s face went pale, her hands flying to her mouth.

”Where is my son?” she demanded, her voice sharp with fear. ”Ned, where is Bran?”

Ned glanced at Joffrey, a silent plea for help. Joffrey met his gaze, his expression remaining unreadable. This was not his story to tell, not his burden to carry.

”A lot has happened in the North,” Joffrey said, his voice flat. ”Lord Stark can explain everything... give him some time to catch his breath.”

Catelyn’s eyes narrowed, her fear turning to anger. ”What happened to my son? Tell me!”

Ned stepped forward, placing a hand on his wife’s arm. ”Cat, please. I will explain everything. But not here, not in the courtyard. Let us go inside. Let us sit down and talk.”

Catelyn’s face was pale, her body trembling with emotion. But she nodded, her jaw tight. ”Very well. But I want answers.”

As the family moved toward the Great Hall, Myrcella stepped closer to Joffrey, her voice low. ”What happened to him? To Bran? Is he...?”

”He’s alive,” Joffrey said, though even he was not certain of that. ”But he’s trapped north of the Wall.”

Myrcella’s eyes widened with horror. ”Trapped? But that means...”

”It means there is hope,” Joffrey said, his voice firm. ”But that is a concern for another time. Go get your things packed. We should be leaving soon.”

Myrcella hesitated, her eyes searching his face. ”So soon? You only just arrived.”

Joffrey raised an eyebrow. ”I thought you would be more eager to leave, after living here for almost two years. But regardless, I have matters to attend to. Important matters that I cannot delay, so I cannot remain here for long.”

Ned’s voice cut through the conversation, his tone measured. ”Joffrey, please. At least stay for a proper meal before you travel south. You have been through so much. You deserve a moment of rest.”

Joffrey glanced at his siblings, their eyes pleading with him. Tommen’s stomach growled audibly, and he looked down with embarrassment. Myrcella whispered to him, her voice soft but insistent.

”There is still someone you need to have a proper conversation with,” she said, her eyes flicking meaningfully toward Sansa.

Joffrey’s gaze followed hers. Sansa was standing at the edge of the crowd, her auburn hair gleaming in the pale light, her blue eyes fixed on him with an almost uncomfortable intensity. She had been watching him since the moment he arrived.

Joffrey sighed, a long, weary exhale. ”Very well. One meal. Then we leave.”

The Great Hall of Winterfell was warm and inviting, its fires crackling in the hearths, its tables laden with food.

The Starks had gathered around the high table, their faces a mixture of relief and concern.

Joffrey sat near the end, the phoenix perched on the back of his chair.

Ned told the story in fragments, his voice heavy with emotion. He spoke of his arrest at Castle Black, his escape with the help of Jon and Sam, his journey north to Hardhome.

He spoke of the battle against the Others, the death of Mance Rayder and Tormund Giantsbane, the desperate flight from the primordial creature.

He spoke of Joffrey’s arrival, his transformation of the Wall, the barrier that had been erected to contain the darkness.

Val helped with parts of the story. She spoke of her people, of the thousands who had been left behind, of the hope that they might still survive.

Jon contributed as well with what he knew, his voice measured and calm, though there was a new weight in his words that had not been there before.

And then came the part that everyone had been wondering about.

”What happened to Stannis Baratheon?” Robb asked, his eyes fixed on Joffrey. ”Is he truly dead? Does he still threaten the North? What about his army?”

Joffrey met his gaze, his expression unreadable. ”Stannis Baratheon is dead. His corpse was taken south by one man named Ser Davos Seaworth.”

A ripple of shock passed through the hall, faces paling, hands tightening on goblets.

”Dead?” Robb repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. ”How did he die?”

Joffrey’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. ”I killed him. He was planning to burn everyone alive in his quest for the throne. He had gone completely mad and was a threat, so I removed him before he could cause more harm.”

”You... killed Stannis Baratheon by yourself? While all of his men surrounded him?” Rob still sounded skeptical, his eyes narrow with disbelief.

Melisandre spoke up, her voice smooth and resonant. ”It is the truth. I was also there, right next to King Stannis when he died. The power that Joffrey wielded is something from the realm of legends. Only comparable to the feats of the Lord of Light himself.”

A murmur ran through the hall. The men and women of Winterfell exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of fear and awe. They had heard rumors of the Sorcerer Prince, but this was confirmation of his power.

”The details are not important,” Joffrey said, his voice cold. ”Let us move on.”

”If Stannis is dead,” Robb said slowly, ”then the war is over. There’s no one else claiming the throne from the Lannisters.”

Joffrey’s expression flickered, a brief moment of amusement. ”The war is far from over.”

Robb’s eyes narrowed. ”What do you mean?”

Ned answered before Joffrey could, his voice heavy. ”The situation is still complicated. I am still a fugitive from the crown, charged with treason. Even if Stannis is dead, the Lannisters may still seek to punish me.”

Myrcella spoke up, her voice clear and confident. ”When we return to King’s Landing, I will speak with my mother. I will try to make her see reason. We have all been through too much to continue this conflict.”

Ned nodded, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. ”I appreciate that, Princess. But even if the Lannisters want peace, there is another piece on the board.” He turned to look at Joffrey. ”Daenerys Targaryen. You sided with her, didn’t you?”

Joffrey met his gaze. ”I suppose I did, though I have my own reasons. She has a claim to the throne, and she has dragons. She will not be content to stay in Essos forever.”

Ned’s expression was grim. ”Does she want the throne as much as her brother did?”

Joffrey nodded, his voice flat. ”More, perhaps. But she is not her brother. She is smarter, more patient, and more willing to listen. But she will not give up her claim.”

Robb leaned forward, his voice sharp with frustration. ”Then the war will continue. What are we supposed to do? Ally ourselves with the Lannisters? With the Targaryens? Choosing the wrong side could bring disaster to our house.” He stood up, his hands clenched into fists. ”The Lannisters have proven to be our enemies. The Targaryens did the same with the Mad King. Why should we trust either of them? Perhaps it would be better for the North to be independent once more.”

Jon spoke up, his voice calm but firm. ”The North cannot stand alone, brother. If we declare independence, we will be fighting a war on two fronts. We cannot afford that, not with the threat that lurks beyond the Wall.”

Robb’s eyes narrowed. ”What threat? You said the Wall was reinforced, that the Others cannot cross it.”

Jon’s expression flickered, a brief moment of hesitation. He had promised Joffrey not to speak of the true threat, the primordial being that slept beneath the ice. ”There are things you don’t understand, Robb. Things I can’t explain. But trust me when I say that a united realm is stronger than a divided one.”

Robb shook his head, his voice bitter. ”I don’t trust anyone anymore. Not the Lannisters, not the Targaryens, not even-” He stopped himself, his jaw tight.

Ned rose to his feet, his voice commanding. ”That is enough. We are all tired, all grieving, all struggling to make sense of what has happened. We will not make any decisions today. But I will listen to the lords of the North, and I will consider their counsel. That is all I can promise.”

Robb opened his mouth to protest, but Catelyn placed a hand on his arm, silencing him. The tension in the hall was thick, the weight of the conversation pressing down on everyone present.

Joffrey watched the exchange with detached interest. He had seen this kind of conflict before...families torn apart by politics, loyalties divided, trust shattered.

It was the way of things in this world, and it would not change anytime soon.

He glanced around the hall, his eyes scanning the faces of the Stark family. They were good people, honorable people. But they were also trapped in a system that demanded sacrifice and compromise. He did not envy them.

As the conversation continued around him, Joffrey noticed a presence lingering near the stairs leading to the upper floors. Sansa was standing there, half-hidden in the shadows, her blue eyes fixed on him with an almost unsettling intensity.

Joffrey rose from his seat, his movements fluid and unhurried. ”Excuse me,” he said, his voice flat. ”I need some air.”

Joffrey climbed the stairs and found Sansa on the first floor of the castle’s corridor, standing by a window that overlooked the courtyard.

”You knew I was here, didn’t you?” Sansa spoke with a soft voice. ”I knew you would come to see me.”

Joffrey approached. ”You were watching me. How can I not take notice?.”

”I was,” she said, turning to face him. ”I have been watching you since you arrived. I wanted to speak with you before you left.”

Joffrey nodded, his eyes meeting hers. ”I recall that we had agreed to talk.”

Sansa took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. ”Before that... there is something that I must know. What are you going to do after you bring your siblings to King’s Landing? Will you stay there? Will you go back to being a prince?”

Joffrey shook his head. ”No, I will not remain there. I plan to return to Essos. People are waiting for me there...people who need my help.”

Sansa’s expression flickered, a mix of disappointment and determination. She took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

”Then take me with you.”

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