Game of Thrones: StormBorn

He felt his nerves waver as he heard footsteps tromp by outside the door. One at a time they hit the stone of the hallway signaling coming doom.

His gaze turned to Lord Stark, implacable, Stern as always, his shimmering soul a sheer and impenetrable wall, not unlike that which sat at the northern end of his kingdom.

It offered refuge against his cousin's storm, somewhat at least.

The footsteps passed by, no doubt just a clerk, or perhaps a guard. He let out a sigh he hadn't quite realized that he was holding as they did.

See Arys Oakheart, who men called Demon Bain, glanced towards the door from where he stood beside it, peeking out slightly, before shaking his head.

Having the man there was a comfort, having seen before his heroism. Many even called him now the greatest of the Kingsguard.

Joffrey thought it was funny, for the man's soul never seemed to tell as such. He was a hero, no doubt, but it's Bronzed glow shared that the man was more dedicated than prideful. Joffrey might guess that he was half shocked to have even won his title, at least when it happened.

Still, the massive ax on his back was less appreciable. Like every Valyrian steel tool he had seen, it had its own soul, its own presence, at least to his eyes. Whatever old magic bound them giving light to their personalities.

Ice as he had long ago learned, mirrored the Stark's, though colder and harsher perhaps than even Lord Eddard. Perhaps because it had most often seen their hands in battle.

Lord Tarly's blade was battle-hungry and washed red with blood, even more so than the man who wielded it.

But the Axe of Norvos was not so uniform, as if it was torn three ways, Stern, dutiful, glorious, but unquestionably tainted. From the blackened sooty patch where it had smitten the demon at the Red Plains, ashen trails ran through its heart, as if even killing the thing had brought on its ruination. The sight of it made his chest hurt as if the things eyes were still on him.

It was utterly disgusting, and yet he could not speak of it, not for fear of revealing his-

"Lord Stark, Cousin Joffrey, I apologize if I am somewhat late, I have been unfortunately busy this morning."

Too late, Joffrey realized that in his focus on the ax, he had forgotten the true cause of his fear, as the beast that darkened the sky stepped into the chamber, and Joffrey pressed himself against the back of his chair without thinking to, his spine straightening.

His cousin war resplendent white, trimmed with gold and black, much like the armor of his bodyguard, a tall dragon-seed from one of the old Blackwater houses, he couldn't recall which, but the bright colors and fine artistry did little to obscure from his sight the workings within.

The great brass thing at his cousin's heart was moving frantically, piping storm and thunder in a hundred whirring wheels and vials a brilliant horror of light and sound, yet none grew out to join the storm above his crown, much opposed to the days before, instead it seemed bottled up, kept down by some invisible force of will.

Joffrey had an eerie feeling that this only made him more dangerous, not less so, like a lion waiting to pounce, silent in the long grasses.

He barely thought at all as he exchanged greetings, trained words passing his lips without thought. He only failed to shudder when he met those stormy eyes due to his own paralysis.

It was only when they left him that he regained some sense of self, and he half wondered how anyone could possibly meet the man's monstrous gaze, even without seeing his terror firsthand.

Only the mention of his name truly brought him back to the situation at hand. 

"I assume that since Joffrey is here you have no concerns with him knowing of your… issue last night?"

He felt Lord Stark's gaze on him before he saw it and with it a kind of trust, of faith in him that he felt undeserving of, cowering like this.

"Yes, of course, he is the future king after all."

The words were honest, as they always seemed to be from Lord Eddard, and Joffrey couldn't help but feel his confidence return, even slightly. If Lord Eddard was willing to vouch for him, then how could he let himself be a coward?

Once more he lifted his gaze, only to find the monster's eyes meeting his own, lightning seeming to crawl along their edges.

Still, with determination, he met that gaze, and miraculously managed to hold it until the man turned back to Lord Stark.

"Very well then." He said firmly, "Jaerys, Ser Oakheart, it would likely be best if you stood outside, this is a matter of intense secrecy, and I would prefer not to burden your ears with this."

"They can hear it too." Lord Eddard said, frowning somewhat. "It would be best if the whole of the Seven kingdoms heard it."

The monster frowned, but after a moment sighed, retreating for once and ceding the point. It was at once surprising to Joffrey, and also not at all.

It made sense that he should need to compromise, to negotiate to build his empire, and yet Joffrey could scarcely imagine him doing so, even when it happened right before his eyes.

"Fine." His cousin said, a frown on his face as well. "But don't spoil my wedding with your proselytizing. I just had my oldest friend killed, and I will be in a rather foul mood if I find you're too bullheaded with this. Though you'll have to forgive my hypocrisy."

Lord Eddard's face softened, nodding solemnly. "Certainly, I think the seven kingdoms can wait to know for a few days more. He did not say it would happen tomorrow."

"Good."

It was Joffrey's turn to frown now, whatever they were talking around, it was taking them far too long to get to the point of it all. For the first time since his mumbled greeting, he spoke.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is "it"?" He turned his gaze between the two, feeling far more annoyed and far less frightened than he ought to be. "What are you two not speaking of?"

His cousin, met his gaze for a moment, this time with a very odd look for a monster, then burst out with laughter, deep and bellowing, like his father's though perhaps a tad higher pitched. The Prince of the Stepstones was half bent over with it, and he could hardly see why, even as the cogs and pipes withing him crackled with emerald lightning.

Lord Eddard seemed as confused as Joffrey was by the entire situation as the imposing young man laughed away like a loon, though his question was silenced by the man holding up a finger, pausing to catch his breath.

Joffrey half-heard a mumbled phrase that sounded quite derogatory, before the Storm Prince met his eyes once again, this time with a strange half-grin on his face.

"The Problem, of course, my dear cousin, is the Apocalypse."