Negary pov :
As I watched the Raven fly away with a smile on my face, I couldn't help but think that having a demon soul was turning out to be both a blessing and a curse.
It boosted my soul manipulation ability a few times over , sure , but it also prevented me from playing the "good" and "noble" cards , at least against those in the know.
The Raven , for example, from the sheer amount of distrust he showed towards me , wouldn't be swayed by my sob stories of being tortured In the deepest layer of hell for years.
No , the Raven knew clearly WHAT I was , even if he didn't have the vaguest ideea about WHO I was.
Me acting coy , talking about wanting to save people and destroying the darkness the Night King represented would only make him more guarded against my hidden agenda.
As he 'should be' , of course , but not as I 'wanted' him to be.
The raven was expecting a Demon , greedy and ruthless, hungry for power and a clear threat to everything he fought for in the past hundreds of years .
So that's what I gave him , a demon.
I put all my cards on the table , showing him just how outmatched he was in the knowledge department, rising my threat level in his eyes , but also lowering it .
Now that he knew what I knew , he could plan accordingly.
I clearly expressed my desire for the children's magic , giving him information about my goal.
The oath I made assured him that we could be allies as long as the benefits he could provide were plenty , turning myself from a dangerous stranger into a mercenary.
And then I started threatening him , because what self respecting demon doesn't throw his weight around at least a little bit.
It would be more suspicious if I didn't do anything of the sort.
And so , I 'maybe' gained greensight for something I was planning to do for free.
I didn't yet know if it was possible to learn but it would be interesting to study nonetheless.
As for Bran , I had long ago decided that he would keep his legs intact.
I needed him for my plans , after all.
Also , I didn't need any more heat between the Starks and the Lannisters . Many of my plans could be completed much easier with the help of two armies instead of one .
Of course , only as long as I manged to convince Eddard Stark that I am worthy of the throne and/or that I am not an incest baby.
I had some plans but I would still have to wait and see how the situation develops.
The ,,soul strengthening" method I mentioned was simply my ,,soul drain" in reverse , pushing the energy outwards instead of siphoning it.
I didn't test it yet , but there should be no problems with it.
And even if there were , my main objective in this transaction was the magic knowledge .
Asking for the Greensight was only a distraction , and a way to make the Raven believe I needed what he had to offer.
I did indeed , but if someone came paddling better wares...well... tough luck.
The only thing I bound myself to do was fighting the Night king , something I was already planning on doing.
I wanted his soul , after all...
So all in all , I was the winner of this game we played , but that's no reason to get complacent.
No sapient being that lived for hundreds of years would be harmless and guillible.
So I won't underestimate the crow bastard.
And I won't completely trust him either , even though we were now "allies"
For there were no eternal friends , just like there were no eternal enemies.
It was all a matter of benefits...
.
And speaking of benefits....
As I stand amidst the clearing , I cast my gaze upon the remnants of life that cling to this space.
The souls of the executed criminals dissipate, their essence intertwining with the very fabric of the air.
With each fading spark, I extend my influence—a mere brush of my ethereal fingers—and draw them into myself.
It is a symphony of power, a chorus of souls relinquishing their last vestiges of existence to my insatiable hunger.
As I absorb the dissipating souls, a sense of satisfaction unfurls within me—a satisfaction born not only from the act of consumption, but from the understanding that I am feeding upon the very essence of existence.
The clearing is suffused with an otherworldly aura, the remnants of the departed criminals transformed into ethereal sustenance that fuels my boundless hunger.
And as the last vestiges of their souls merge with my own, I stand as a harbinger of darkness, a creature of power and hunger, forever hungry for the taste of stolen life.
With the infusion of these absorbed energies, my refined soul gracefully absorbs the surge, effortlessly accommodating the newfound power.
It courses through me like a tempestuous current, each strand of my essence resonating with the heightened energy.
As the energies merge and assimilate, a palpable transformation sweeps over me—a transformation that transcends the limitations of mere physicality.
In the wake of this infusion, a newfound strength unfurls, coursing through my being with an intensity that thrums like the heartbeat of a tempest.
I feel the boundaries of my potential stretch and expand, my essence illuminated with an incandescent brilliance that defies the very shadows I command.
With this heightened power, I stand on the precipice of possibility, my form a vessel of unfettered potential, my soul an embodiment of uncharted might.
Alas , it was just a fleeting emotion.
Reality was often disappointing...
"All this...for just a dozen souls"
I was stronger than before , sure , my soul nearly 30 times as strong as it was when I began my journey throughout the first layer of hell.
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But compared to the souls of my wardens...I wasn't even close.
But I would reach their level eventually, and then surpass it....
Or die trying.
I had no doubts about that.
.
.
.
.
The departure of the demon's soul from the clearing was a manifestation of otherworldly elegance.
It glided through the air like a shadow on ethereal wings, a nebulous form that pulsed with the essence of the arcane.
The wisps of its departing energy shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors—sinister hues of obsidian merging seamlessly with the iridescent glow of emerald and amethyst.
As it ascended, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple and shiver in its wake, as if touched by an unseen hand that wove the threads of existence into a tapestry of departure.
And then, with a final surge of uncanny brilliance, the demon's soul vanished from the clearing, leaving behind an echo of its malevolent presence.
.
.
.
.
As I reached my bed chamber at the crack of dawn , I saw something I didn't quite expect ....
Tyrion Lannister , the imp , the strategist , future hand of the King and Queen... sitting on a chair in front of my flesh golem's bed , presumably waiting for it to wake up.
The motive behind this audacious entry was unmistakable: a desire for an exclusive tête-à-tête, shielded from the curious gaze of onlookers.
Now , he was a smart man , but I doubt he saw through my mask , at least not completely.
I was careful to display a gradual change in behavior, letting Joffrey's bad habits fade away under the guise of a maturing.
Still , some doubts must have been pestering his little head.
"Let's put those doubs to rest , shall we?" I thought as I entered my mortal coil once more.
----------------
Tyrion Lannister pov :
You know, it's a funny thing, being a dwarf in a world full of towering arrogance.
People tend to have their heads so far up their own arses that they hardly notice anything below their line of sight.
You become nothing but an inconvenience to their grand illusion of superiority. I've seen it all—the half-hearted smiles, the condescending pats on the head, the way they talk to you like you're a child who just discovered fire.
But let me tell you something, the moment you realize that the world sees you as less, you start paying attention like a damn hawk.
You notice the quirks, the details, the cracks in their façade.
You become a master at reading people, their intentions, and the lies they tell themselves. And let's be honest, nothing cuts through the bullshit like a sharp tongue and a witty retort.
So yeah, I may be the guy they underestimate, the one they mock behind their hands, but you know what?
I'm the guy who's always one step ahead.
Call it survival instinct or just a twisted sense of amusement, but being ignored has its perks. It's like being a damn shadow in plain sight, soaking in all the secrets and power plays.
So laugh all you want, world, because while you're busy looking down on me, I'm busy looking right back at you.
Since we left King's Landing, I've been keeping a watchful eye on the little shit they call Joffrey.
Now, don't get me wrong, he's always been a spoiled brat with a crown, but there's something different about him lately.
It's like he's taken a sip from the goblet of responsibility and it's gone straight to his head.
Maybe it's the fresh air or the fact that he's finally away from Cersei's smothering grip, but he's been acting... well, less of a royal twat.
I've seen him make decisions that are almost competent, showing some semblance of leadership instead of just throwing his weight around.
It's as if someone lit a fire under his pampered behind and made him realize that ruling takes more than just a fancy title.
Don't get me wrong, he's still a little shit, but he's a little shit who's starting to realize that playing king means more than just wearing a crown and spouting off orders.
Maybe it's just a phase, and he'll go back to being a full-blown moron in due time, but for now, I've got to admit, I'm almost impressed.
.
Almost.
.
There's this itch in the back of my head, a gnawing suspicion that the change in Joffrey goes deeper than what meets the eye.
Sure, he's putting on this whole act for his family, showing them the side of him that's almost... decent.
But I've been around the block enough times to know that people don't change that easily, especially not little pricks like Joffrey.
It's like there's a mask he's wearing, a facade carefully constructed to fool everyone around him.
And sure, he's got the looks and the title to make people believe whatever crap he's spewing, but there's something off about it all.
Call it gut feeling or just plain old cynicism, but I've learned to trust that itch in the back of my head. It's kept me alive this long, after all.
So, while everyone's busy falling for Joffrey's sudden "transformation," I'm keeping my eyes wide open.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in this world of schemes and deceit, it's that things are rarely what they seem.
And that itch in the back of my head? It's telling me that Joffrey's got more tricks up his sleeve than a damn magician.
.
I had plans, damn it. First thing in the morning, I was all set to visit a certain establishment that's known for its "entertainment."
The kind of place where you can forget about your troubles and indulge in the pleasures of the flesh.
Hey, don't judge—I've got my vices, just like everyone else.
But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts kept wandering back to Joffrey.
So in the end I said "Fuck it" and went to get some answers.
Before the sun could even think about rising, I found myself standing outside Joffrey's chamber. Call it curiosity, call it a mix of annoyance and genuine concern, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to his recent change than met the eye.
So, armed with a healthy dose of skepticism and a jug of wine and another one of coffee for good measure, I pushed open the door and walked in.
There he was, sleeping like a king, all sprawled out and snoring like a bull. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the sight.
But as the dawn's first light crept through the window, I could see something different about him.
It's like his usual cockiness had been replaced with a certain vulnerability. I mean, who knew a little shit like Joffrey could look so... human?
So there I was, sitting on a damn uncomfortable chair next to Joffrey's bed, nursing a cup of coffee that was more bitter than my own damn thoughts.
The sun was slowly making its way through the window, casting long shadows across the room. I watched as Joffrey slept, his features relaxed in slumber, worlds away from the insufferable brat I knew him to be.
Time seemed to crawl by, each minute feeling like an eternity.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest, my impatience growing.
Yeah, I know, I'm not exactly known for my patience, but there was something about this situation that had me on edge.
It's like I was walking a tightrope between genuine concern and my usual skepticism.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Joffrey stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked disoriented, like he didn't quite remember where he was.
Then his gaze landed on me, and I saw recognition flicker in those green eyes. I gave him a half-smile, the kind that's supposed to be reassuring but probably just comes off as a weird grimace.
He blinked a few times, as if trying to process the fact that I was actually sitting there.
I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, wondering what the hell I was doing in his room at this ungodly hour.
But before he could voice his confusion, I jumped in, firing off questions like a damn crossbow.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the changed man himself...
Who are you and what did you do with the real Joffrey?" I asked in jest and my nephew rolled his eyes.
"Hahaha , I'm dying of laughter, uncle.
Now tell me what in the blazes are you doing here?" Joffrey said with unconcealed annoyance.
But to be fair , I wouldn't react much better to finding him in my chambers when I wake.
"You know, Joffrey, I've been observing you since we left King's Landing.
Something's clearly changed in you...and I want to know the why's and the how's"
The prince though, seemed even more annoyed, bordering in anger.
"Oh, have you been playing the role of the wise observer now, Uncle?" The boy spat . "Why don't you go and observe some whores and spare me the interrogation?" And his voice started rising.
Oh , quite the witty retort , Tyrion thought, amused.
"Watch your tone, boy. I might be small, but I'm not deaf. Now cut the crap and tell me what's really going on.""
"There's nothing going on. Just tired of listening to your endless prattle, that's all.""
I leaned forward , looking the prince straight in the eyes.
"Save the attitude for your guards, Joffrey. I'm genuinely curious. You've gone from being a little demon to something... different."
"*Sigh* Can't a man change his ways without being subjected to endless analysis?"
At that , I narrowed my eyes
"You're not a man yet, Joff. You're still a green little prince, and your sudden change in behavior has me wondering. Is this really you, or are you playing at being a decent human being for some reason?"
The boy was now glaring at me
"And what if I am? What's it to you?"
What's it to me? I smirked.
"It's to me because I've seen enough of this world to know when something smells fishy. So, spit it out, Joffrey. What's the real reason behind the act?"
"Gods, you're relentless.... Fine, if you must know, I've realized that being a complete bastard might not be the best strategy in the long run. Happy now?"
Hmmm...he seems sincere....but that's not all.
I laid back.
"A bit too happy, actually. Your sudden change of heart is quite the performance, and it's got me wondering if there's more to it than meets the eye."
The boy exhaled sharply " Look, I've got enough on my plate without having to explain myself to you. Can we drop this?"
Of course, he was busy. From challenging Lord Stark to turning the spar into a tourney...
Today was also the day king Robert wanted to go hunt, so Joffrey would be expected to keep his place in talking with the nobles...
From all he did , the challenge, the tourney , the discourse he had in front of the masses...I could draw one clear conclusion.
"You're scared, aren't you? Scared that you won't be able to live up to your own expectations, that you'll fail as a king.""
The boy looked away , his anger deflating slightly.
Jackpot...
"That's ridiculous...why would I be scared. I am more than competent enough to be king..."
Oh , you dumb boy...
"It's not ridiculous, Joffrey.
You're young, and you're facing challenges that most men wouldn't even dream of.
But here's the thing—you don't have to face them alone.
You've got a family that's willing to help, even if you're too proud to admit it."
Aaand , the boy is back to glaring.
"I don't need your advice, Uncle. I've got it all under control."
"*Sigh* Suit yourself, Joffrey.
But remember, the act you put on might fool everyone else, but it won't fool me.
I've seen enough masks in this world to recognize a façade when I see one.
Just... be careful, all right?"
The young prince looked at me , a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes
"Yeah, whatever. Just leave me alone, will you?"
I nodded my head.
"For now, I will. But don't think I'm done poking around. If you're in trouble, I'll find out sooner or later.""
"Yeah, yeah. Get out already."
I stood up.
"Don't think too hard, Joffrey. Sometimes,admitting your weaknesses is the first step towards becoming a stronger king."
With that, I leave the room, leaving Joffrey alone with his thoughts, a mixture of annoyance, anger, and a hint of the fear he thought he had hidden so well.
But that fear , that uncertainty wasn't there a while back?
What could have made the boy doubt himself so much to make him change so drastically?
As Tyrion made his way back to his chambers, his thoughts were a swirling mixture of wine-induced haze and the weight of his recent conversation with Joffrey.
He took a gulp from his goblet every few steps, the bitter liquid providing a temporary reprieve from the complexities of his own mind.
Guards and maids seemed to ignore him as he stumbled along the corridor, lost in his thoughts.
The mention of Joffrey's sudden change in character echoed in his mind.
The young king's transformation had been too abrupt to be mere chance.
Tyrion knew that behind the facade of wisdom and self-improvement, there was something more—a hidden fear, a dark realization that had taken root in Joffrey's mind.
And then it hit him, like a lightning bolt of insight. Joffrey's fear, his need to prove himself capable, it all pointed to a possibility that had never crossed Tyrion's mind before.
The revelation struck him with the force of truth, and suddenly, the puzzle pieces aligned.
Maybe Joffrey had discovered the truth about his lineage.
Maybe he had unearthed the secret that Tyrion himself had known for years.
That he wasn't truly King Robert Baratheon's son, but rather the result of a clandestine affair between Queen Cersei and another man—a Lannister, nonetheless.
Tyrion had kept that secret, not just for the sake of the Lannister name, but also to protect Joffrey from the consequences of such a revelation.
The implications of this newfound knowledge sent shivers down Tyrion's spine.
He could imagine the dread that must have consumed Joffrey upon realizing that his claim to the Iron Throne was built on a foundation of lies and deceit.
As he reached his chambers, Tyrion sank into a chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.
He knew that if his suspicions were correct, Joffrey's transformation was not merely an attempt to be a better king—it was a desperate bid to prove his worth, to secure his place in a world that might otherwise discard him.
Tyrion stared into the wine goblet, the crimson liquid swirling like the storm of emotions within him.
He had always known that the game of thrones was built on deception and power plays, but this revelation struck at the heart of it all.
Joffrey's fear was real, and Tyrion knew he had to tread carefully, for the fate of the realm rested upon a fragile balance of secrets and lies.
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A.N :
"The Darkness by itself is impossible to navigate, the Light by itself painful and blinding,"
I wagged my finger as my best impression of Nan came over me and my voice went high and scratchy, and I left her behind as she slowed down at my words.
"Your eyes don't detect light nor Darkness, it sees the differences.
You cannot navigate without both, unless you are blind to both.
I choose to see and regard both as equals. How about you?"