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 116: The Final Ingredient

The door to Daenerys’s quarters swung open without warning, and Joffrey stepped inside with the casual confidence of a man who had never been denied entry to anything. 

The room was modest by royal standards. The captain’s cabin of the Shadow’s Kiss had been converted into a temporary chamber for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daenerys was seated at a small desk, a pile of documents spread before her, her silver-gold hair falling loose about her shoulders.

She looked up as he entered, her violet eyes widening with surprise. Then her expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features.

”Joffrey,” she said, her voice carrying a note of cool formality. ”I was not expecting you.”

”Clearly,” Joffrey replied, his voice flat. ”I need something from you.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. She had been trying to reach him for days, sending messengers to his workshop, requesting his presence at council meetings. He had ignored them all, consumed by his work on the horn and his other projects. And now he appeared without warning, asking for something without so much as a greeting.

”You need something from me,” she repeated, her voice sharp. ”You have ignored my summons for days. You have not attended a single council meeting. You have not spoken to me since we took the Iron Fleet. And now you come here to ask for something?”

Joffrey raised an eyebrow. ”I have been busy, Daenerys. The horn required some time to study. And my other projects also required my attention. I have not had time for council meetings.”

”You have never had time for council meetings, nor the interest,” Daenerys countered while raising her voice. ”You have never attended them. Not once. But you have never been so... absent before. You have never avoided me before.”

Joffrey studied her for a moment, his green eyes searching her face. She was angry, yes, but there was something else beneath the anger. Something that looked almost like hurt feelings.

”I have not avoided you,” he said, his voice careful. ”I have been occupied. It is not the same thing.”

Daenerys opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She realized, with a flash of embarrassment, that he was right. He had never attended the council meetings, not from the beginning. She had never expected him to. Her anger was not about the meetings, and she knew it.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing. ”Is the new project the red-haired assistant?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of forced casualness. ”The one who spends so much time in your chambers?”

Joffrey’s eyes narrowed, and he was finally able to understand what was happening. 

The Dragon Queen was jealous of his company.

For a moment, he considered using this. He could exploit her feelings, turn her jealousy to his advantage, manipulate her into giving him whatever he needed. It would be easy. It would be efficient. It was what the old Joffrey would have done.

But something stopped him. A voice in the back of his mind, quiet but insistent, asked him when he had become so calculating, so cold, so willing to use the feelings of others for his own gain.

’What is wrong with me?’ he wondered, the thought surprising him. ’When did I become this person?’

”No,” he said, his voice softer than he had intended. ”Ros is just entertainment. Nothing more.” He took a step closer, his green eyes meeting hers. ”As a queen, I am sure you are familiar with such things. To have someone to warm your bed at night.”

Daenerys looked away, her cheeks flushing. ”I do not do that.”

Joffrey reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. The touch was gentle, almost tender. ”Why not? You are not married. There is nothing wrong with having someone to keep you company. Even a queen deserves a moment of... comfort.”

Daenerys pushed his hand away, her voice sharp. ”I have no time for frivolous entertainment. Now, if you do not mind, I am very busy preparing for our departure.”

Joffrey raised an eyebrow. ”We are leaving already?”

”Yes!” Daenerys huffed, her composure cracking. ”In three days. You would know that if you attended the meetings.”

Joffrey nodded slowly, a faint smile playing at his lips. ”I will consider it for the future. But now...”

”Yes, you need more blood, I presume,” Daenerys said in a flat tone. She reached into a small box on her desk and pulled out a vial of dark liquid, handing it to him. ”That should be enough, I trust. It has become more difficult to extract it now that the dragons are becoming more... disobedient.”

Joffrey took the vial, studying it with a practiced eye. ”It is a normal behavior. It will pass. They are growing, testing their boundaries. You must assert your dominance, but with patience.”

Daenerys nodded, her expression softening slightly. ”And my blood? Do you need that as well?”

”Just a little bit this time.” Joffrey conjured a small vial and a blade from thin air, the objects appearing in his hands with a flicker of magic. 

He reached for her hand, his touch gentle as he pricked her finger. A single drop of blood welled up, and he caught it in the vial before a whisper of magic healed the wound.

”That will do,” he said, his voice quiet.

”That… didn’t hurt at all.” Daenerys looked at her finger, then back at him. ”You can be gentle when you want to.”

Joffrey smiled, a genuine expression that softened his features. ”Of course.”

”The next meeting is tomorrow afternoon,” Daenerys said, her voice carrying a note of hopefulness. ”Will you attend?”

Joffrey nodded. ”I will be there.”

He turned to leave, his hand on the door, but Daenerys’s voice stopped him. ”Hold on. What are you working on now? I know it is not more of that dragon formula, because Tyrion is handling that.”

Joffrey turned back, his expression unreadable. ”An improved version. A more potent one. That I am planning on using on myself.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, her face going pale. ”What? You are going to use it on yourself?”

”I am,” Joffrey responded casually as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

That was the entire point of all those experiments on the soldiers. To find the right formula for himself. And now he had finally found it.

”Did you say it is a more potent version?” Daenerys’s voice was horrified. She had seen what the current version did to people. Even the bravest of men would scream their lungs out. Even the Unsullied, who had been through hell, were unable to withstand its effects without screaming.

Joffrey nodded. ”It is.”

”Why?” Daenerys demanded, her voice trembling. ”Why would you want to put yourself through that? You are already powerful beyond comprehension. You are already... You are already so much more than anyone else. What are you trying to become?”

Joffrey smiled, a cold, knowing expression. ”Something... more.”

He knew she wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain, so he wasn’t going to bother.

He turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving Daenerys standing alone in the silence.

The workshop was a mess of bubbling vials, arcane symbols, and ancient texts. 

Joffrey moved through it with ease, his hands steady as he prepared the ingredients for his most ambitious experiment yet.

The dragon’s blood went first, dark and thick, shimmering with an inner light. Then Daenerys’s blood, a few drops of royal essence that carried the power of Old Valyria. Then the herbs, the minerals, the carefully measured portions of substances that would have killed a lesser alchemist.

And finally, a single tear from Fawkes.

The phoenix was perched on a nearby shelf, its golden eyes fixed on Joffrey as he worked. The tear fell from its eye, a shimmering droplet of liquid fire, and Joffrey caught it in the vial. The mixture glowed briefly before settling into a steady, pulsing light.

”If everything else goes wrong…this may keep me alive.” He glanced at the phoenix. ”Thank you.” 

The fiery bird responded with a soft cry.

”Now…for last…” The last ingredient was the most important. The most dangerous. The most powerful.

Joffrey reached into his most secure pocket, his fingers closing around a small black box. He had carried it with him since leaving Stygai, had guarded it with his life, had never dared to open it until now.

He was about to take it out when a knock came at the door.

”I said I did not want to be disturbed,” Joffrey called out, his voice sharp.

”The dwarf is here,” came the Hound’s voice from the other side, rough and impatient.

Joffrey paused, his hand hovering over the orb. Then he sighed, a long, weary exhale. ”Ah, yes. Come in.” He had almost forgotten that he had asked for his uncle’s presence. 

There was something else he had to do before this experiment.

The door opened, and Tyrion Lannister stepped into the workshop. His face was pale, his mismatched eyes fixed on Joffrey with an intensity that bordered on accusation. He had been summoned, but he had not expected to find his nephew already surrounded by vials and arcane symbols, the air thick with the scent of magic.

”What is this I heard from the Queen?” Tyrion demanded, his voice sharp. ”You are going to subject yourself to the dragon potion? A more potent one?”

Joffrey did not look up from his work. ”I did not call you here for that.”

”If it is not to convince you against doing something stupid,” Tyrion said, ”then what can I do for you?”

Joffrey reached into his robes and pulled out a parchment and a small vial of red liquid. He handed them to Tyrion, his expression unreadable.

”This is?” Tyrion asked, studying the vial with a practiced eye.

”It is a variant of the dragon formula I made for Sandor. You will be brewing the potion. I trust you can handle it.”

The Hound, who had been standing at the door, looked up with surprise. ”For me?”

Joffrey nodded. ”Before leaving King’s Landing, you made a deal with me. You would serve as my shield, and I would use my sorcery to grant you enough power to crush that brother of yours, or anyone else who got in your way. This formula has been designed specifically for you and should grant you much more than what you need.” He walked to the corner of the lab and picked up a massive black greatsword, its blade gleaming with an inner light. ”And this is for you as well.”

The Hound took the sword, his eyes widening with recognition. It was made from the black spear he had gotten from Stygai, reforged into a weapon that hummed with ancient power.

Joffrey turned to Tyrion, his expression serious. ”I also need you to understand where everything is. My diaries, my formulas, the most valuable materials we have acquired. They are all here, in this workshop. If something were to happen to me, I need you to know how to continue my work.”

Tyrion’s face went pale, his voice sharp with concern. ”Are you dying?”

Joffrey shook his head. ”I am not dying. I just want to be prepared this time.”

”This time?” Tyrion repeated, his brow furrowed with confusion.

Joffrey did not answer. ”Now leave me alone. I have much to do.”

Tyrion hesitated, glancing at his nephew with concern. Then he nodded slowly, turning to leave. The Hound followed, his new sword in hand.

Once they were gone, Joffrey sealed the door with a wave of his hand and sealed it with his magic.

No more disturbances.

The workshop was silent now.

He put his hands inside his pockets again, and this time, he pulled out the item he needed.

A small black box that he proceeded to place on the table before opening it.

Inside, resting on a bed of black velvet, was a shining orb made of pure energy. It pulsed with a light that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the mortal world, a power that was so ancient and vast that it could bring destruction to all life on this planet if used incorrectly.

It was the essence of the primordial being of Stygai, a fragment of its power that had been given to him as a gift…or a burden.

The cosmic entity who gave this to him expected him to use it to save this world. 

Joffrey stared at the orb, his heart pounding fast. This was what he had been working toward, what all his experiments had been leading to. 

This was the power that would transform him, that would make him something more than human, more than wizard, more than anything the world had ever seen.

”This is the first step…” He reached for the orb.

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