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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
Additional Tags:
Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
Language:
English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:160Hits:33,683
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 47: Joffrey
Chapter Text
Joffrey never understood why his brother worshiped a rat god.
At first he didn't realize that the Horned One Ikit prayed to wasn't a dragon god, like the Fourteen of Old Valyria. After all, who would think a rat could have horns? Even if some of Ikit's drawings had such a thing but he also drew winged horses, giant multi-headed land dragons, women with serpent bodies and twisted monstrosities. So the ratmen he drew, some of which had ram-like horns growing from their temples, wasn't the most odd and certainly didn't explain the Horned Rat god.
The triangle was His symbol, and the strange people from Volantis had the same symbol carved into the backs of their hands that Ikit had upon his stomach, the upside down overlapping triangle.
Joffrey hadn't really realized how true it was, that Ikit's dreams were of ancient Valyrian visions. Just of a different breed to that of Daenys the Dreamer, who saved her family and the dragons all those centuries ago. Seeing visions of bizarre weapons and extinct gods, of fantastical races yet unknown.
He found out, after his brother departed with Addam to Tumbleton, Joffrey was freely allowed to see the 'Skryre workshop' as they referred to the quarters they were all but barricaded in. Only the immediate royal family could enter, with the Volantenes keeping a close watch upon everything. He found so many of the weapons curious but Ikit had been clear that using anything carelessly could easily result in the death of the user or everyone around them. There were more of the Warplock Jezzails that Baela had taken, the great crates packed with sand and filled with Poisoned-Wind Globes and Deathglobes looking oddly pretty with their translucent glass shells swirling with green and purple smoke, and a great multi-barrelled weapon that one of the Volantense called a 'Ratling Gun' when Joffrey asked.
The green stone, warpstone, was everywhere but as he was warned the magic was not to be handled by the inexperienced. Even if a part of him ached at not being able to touch it, he listened and kept himself distant.
He also spoke more with the strange people of Essos, the group having a fanatical devotion to Ikit that Joffrey was curious about.
That was how he learned more about the Horned Rat, the god they worshiped and whom Ikit had taught them about in his time in Volantis.
Joffrey found himself spending a large portion of the day with one woman, hair and skin as black as squid ink with eyes a bright gold, who spoke to him about what she learned. About Saera's death, the bloody sacrifice which was not foreign to one of Old Valyria. Giving him an amulet with the triangle, letting him idly stroke it like a worry stone as she spoke of the Chaos god. What Ikit had taught all of them about the Horned Rat and now what she was teaching him.
Lord of the World Below, the Great Horned One, the Under-Father, Harbinger of Disease and He Who Is Thirteen.
He did learn the traits of what the Horned Rat embodied, being a mix of decay, ruin, pestilence, strife, hunger, ambition and survival. Joffrey spent time in the aftermath of the conversation, and thinking over all that he knew of his brother and his cryptic words before leaving King's Landing.
Joffrey at first didn't understand why one would worship a god dedicated to the likes of pestilence and strife, to hunger and decay but when he thought over history, and even the state of the current war, Joffrey felt like he could.
Survival was, at its core, what everyone would do. What Ikit valued above all else or what he believed to be the most important aspects of life. What so many did simply by living, and what his family current were doing. Strife was the base mentality of humans, even with King Viserys's peace there were constant quarrels and blood spilled even if it had not been a war spread across Westeros. The friction between his own mother and Queen Alicent was one such example, the ambition. Hunger, the food riots of King's Landing. They had fled the Doom of Old Valyria, the decay of their House in loosing so much magic and prestige.
But they were still surviving, even if the Greens were doing their best to end that.
So after that long amount of brooding Joffrey felt like he understood his brother a lot more. Why Ikit seemed be fond of rats, why he chose a rat god over everything else.
Rats would survive anything. He knew enough while learning in Driftmark that rats could be found anywhere, were capable of swimming for days and can chew through wood, lead and metal. Perhaps that was the point of Ikit's worship of a god associated with rats. They survived anything and everything, regardless of how many of them died. No matter how many died to starvation, no matter how many succumbed to diseased or were hunted down and killed.
They would survive, and the Horned One embodied that trait as one of His main aspects.
His sleep that night was strange and shifting, with the amulet warm against his chest as he felt strangely acknowledged.
It was after this revelation Joffrey also began to find the hidden passages in the Red Keep, those made by King Maegor. It was like the slightest of shift in his vision, seeing the notches in the walls, the mechanisms hidden behind portraits and braziers, the handholds and tunnels.
Rhaenyra and Jacaerys were so busy with keeping control over King's Landing, with Viserys and Aegon spending most of their days together as Aegon was still fragile, that Joffrey found himself investigating the numerous secret passages. Some he had to crawl through, some pass so close to other rooms in the Red Keep, allowing a hidden person to eavesdrop on conversations. One led him to the walls outside of Alicent's prison, peeking through a tiny hole to see the dowager queen sitting silently on her bed staring at the wall with red-rimmed eyes. One let him out to the Blackwater rush, another lead down to the cellars. And more still let him leave the Red Keep without detection.
It was either folly or recklessness or simple curiosity that had Joffrey explore King's Landing while wearing plainclothes. He knew civil unrest was rife within the city, had heard it mentioned several times within the courts and councils. People were afraid and that was how Joffrey heard word of the Shepherd.
Joffrey didn't realize how useful it was to not look like a typical Targaryen. Whenever anyone heard that name, they immediately assumed 'silver hair, purple eyes'. He was able to walk amongst the smallfolk and have none of them give him a second glance. He kept to himself and kept himself relaxed, and when he wandered the streets listening for anything of use he came across the Shepherd in the Cobbler's Square.
His voice was so loud and so easily carried it drew Joffrey to him, and as he listened to the maimed old man he was disturbed by what he said. And even more in how people listened to the man despite his insane ramblings, a persistent crowd hanging about the square as the man preached from dawn to dusk. How the Shepherd spoke not just the sins of King Aegon or Rhaenyra, but the Targaryens as a whole. Ranting how the dragons were unholy demons, how they should be killed as they were meat and bone.
It did prove to Joffrey how incredibly stupid and shortsighted the Greens had been, however, in parading Meleys's head through the streets.
But a part of him felt oddly on edge with the preacher. So part of Joffrey hissing dangerous as the old bearded man raised his handless arm and shouted about the sins of the Targaryens and of the demon-riddled Valyria.
Joffrey could only think of the Faith Militant uprising he knew from King Aenys's time. All the blood and death, the battle of Stonebridge and how they even stormed the Red Keep to try slaughtering King Aenys himself, how Princess Rhaena and Prince Aegon were besieged at Crakehall, how Maegor the Cruel with Balerion the Black Dread managed to shatter the Faith yet it took King Jaehaerys to finally bring it to heel.
Still dangerous, even if they had been subdued. And people could act foolish in times of war and Joffrey kept returning to the Cobbler's Square over the week and couldn't shake his instincts bristling at the Shepherd.
This here was danger. This was a threat to his family.
Of course he couldn't just go to his mother and demand she imprison a holy man. King's Landing was still tense and fragile, any spark could set it off.
And it was that night while thinking over his options, having dinner with his family and listening to Viserys cheerfully telling Jace about the cyvasse game he had played with Aegon, that Joffrey understood Ikit's parting words to him.
Don't get caught.
Rhaenyra was the queen, Jacaerys was the crown prince. Their hands must remain clean. Joffrey was a fourth son, easily overlooked. Even Prince Daemon had been scolded and blamed, yet never held to the same standard as his brother Viserys, a firstborn son.
Joffrey, who knew the corridors of the Red Keep, who now found himself able to see in the dark as easily as if it were daylight. Who had admitted to Ikit that if he had found Aemond asleep, would have slit his throat despite how dishonourable it would be.
After the civil war which had taken the life of his brother and his grandmother, had nearly killed Rhaenyra, Baela and Viserys, Joffrey felt he understood.
And it was why he knew the Shepherd had to die and soon.
The revelation should frightened Joffrey, as even with his rage towards Aemond he had never actually killed anyone. But Tyraxes was still small and this was what Joffrey had to do on his own.
It would seem the people who followed the Horned Rat believed so as well, for when Joffrey appeared at the workshop at midnight the woman with the golden eyes and triangular scar was already waiting. Without a word from him she lead to him a specific section which 'The Rat Prince made clear for you alone'. She quietly told him what each and every item would do and the very next night Joffrey had killed the Shepherd.
The Weeping blade Joffrey kept strapped to his side and he was warned the venom upon it was lethal. There was no cure for it and would kill him as easily as an enemy. The jagged edges of the blade glowed green, with more green symbols etched into the blade near the hilt. The scabbard was Valyrian steel, so there was no risk unless he drew it.
There was also the rings and faux nails, intended as decoration yet easily hidden, slid over his fingers so if someone gave him a quick glance it looked like nothing at all, only slightly sharp nails that could use a tim. These would be one use, he was told. The venom so light and scant it would only seep into the skin once and unlike the blade wasn't concentrated, instead only lethal to someone aged, infirm or sickly. Two of which the Shepherd was.
Joffrey had never met with someone with the sole intention of murdering them, yet finally speaking to the Shepherd vindicated his actions. The man was mad, loud, and utterly convinced in his own words and Joffrey had never been more aware of how much his nose itched. Instead he grabbed the Shepherd's arm, the handless one, and dug in his nails enough to cut but not enough to be seen as malice.
And the next day the Shepherd did not appear and Joffrey felt the amulet burn at his chest.
He felt he should feel almost conflicted, in killing a man. But every part of him deemed the man a threat. If they killed threats before they could enact their violence, then maybe Lucerys would still be alive. If Ikit had bitten Aemond's throat out at Driftmark. If Rhaenyra had used one of the Red Keep's secret corridors to strangle Alicent in her bed when she learned of her father's impending marriage.
Joffrey watched and listened, as his mother and older brother remained clean and above it all. He was not caught and Joffrey spread his time between being with his family and paying more and more attention to the Red Keep and King's Landing.
They received news of Vhagar's death with the kinslayer falling with his dragon and a great celebration was thrown. The greatest threat against them was gone and the news came with Baela and Daemon surviving. As of currently they were having to recuperate from the battle, but both healthy and whole. Then the news of Vermithor and Hugh the Betrayer, the death of Prince Daeron. The war could almost be over but Joffrey was still on guard.
Helaena was still missing and Dreamfyre was large and fierce. Until she was accounted for they would not be safe, especially when Joffrey used one of the secret passages to access her locked room and saw the symbols carved everywhere. He thought of rage, a throne of skulls and tasted blood when he looked at the symbol and retreated back into the wall. Joffrey wasn't sure why but he felt like Helaena had learned something new, something terrifying.
Yet it would be for Ikit to pursue, once he was done with Oldtown. Joffrey had to remain and protect his family, be the silent knife in the dark.
And it's why he knew his next kill had to be Mysaria, the White Worm.
She had slid herself deeply into Rhaenyra's confidence, acting as a Mistress of Whisperers and close companion. Yet all Joffrey could think was Liar whenever he saw the woman near his mother.
Mysaria had once been Daemon's paramour yet now she pawed at Rhaenyra for affection. Joffrey had spied it once when sneaking through the hidden passages, witnessing Mysaria's attempt to kiss Rhaenyra only for her to turn away. Yet he heard the words of the White Worm, trying to offer touch and reassurances until Rhaenyra sent her from the room. It was too familiar to be the first time and at first Joffrey was shocked (though less about them both being women, he all knew the rumours about his late father Laenor and could care less. They were the blood of dragon, above such petty limits) before his heart had hardened and his teeth bared.
Opportunistic. A liar, a snake. A worm. Ready to feast on whatever she could. Like Alicent had been when his mother was young, even if it had been so hard to seek out that. In learning Alicent had once been Rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting only to backstab her to seduce the widowed King Viserys. Taking advantage of a disorientated and vulnerable monarch, as Mysaria was trying to do with Rhaenyra.
Joffrey knew that Mysaria had warned Dragonstone of Arryk Cargyll's subterfuge. She had weaponized the blockade in the riots by sending food packages from Rhaenyra which led to the smallfolk attacking Helaena and Alicent. She had handed over Aegon to the Greens to begin the usurpation. She had suggested the smallfolk be used to tame Vermithor, leading to the Betrayer. She whispered into Rhaenyra's ear, even as she subtly tried to nudge Jace aside to remain the closest to the queen. Doing it so expertly Joffrey almost missed it if not for his new sharpened instincts.
She was becoming a hindrance and with Vhagar and Vermithor dead, she was no longer needed.
So Joffrey stalked her, the Weeping blade upon his person as he followed the White Worm for several nights. Into the city, down alleyways and into various hovels and manses and pleasure houses. Joffrey felt a strange level of safety in the shadows, that if he lurked just right then even if Mysaria looked at him unless he chose to move she would fail to notice him. And indeed she did, at once looking directly into the alcove Joffrey had tucked himself in and failed to see him. The shadows seemed to cling to him like spiderwebs and his eyesight seemed even sharper at night.
Don't get caught.
Mysaria knew some of the secret routes from the Red Keep, not all but there were ones she favoured including the one that led to the beginning of the Blackwater Rush. Using that she could follow a short path along the river to then enter through the various servant and guard entrances into the city itself, as if she were another worker, without coming from the direction of the Red Keep.
So one week after Vhagar's death, when Daemon and Baela were to return that following day, Joffrey killed Mysaria the White Worm.
He had spent the day with Aegon and Viserys, letting himself be seen and also let Ser Lorent and Elinda see him to his chambers. Then inside his chambers he had switched to black, including a hood about his face and dark leather for his hands and boots and with the Weeping blade at his hip.
Then he slipped through one of the walls, stalked through the tunnels and, spotting Mysaria through one of the peepholes, lay in wait. And when she left to head to the hidden part by the Blackwater Rush, that was when he moved.
Mysaria did not even notice him as Joffrey silent darted up behind her, expression shocked when the blade went straight through her throat with sickening ease. Joffrey then kicked her, knocking her down into the river with a splash that seemed too loud in the night.
The Blackwater's currents were deep and swift, wicked and treacherous, looking black in the darkness. Her white-clad body was swallowed, even as the Weeping blade dripped red along its gleaming green edge. He flicked it several times until the blood was gone, sliding it back into its scabbard as the night was quiet and still.
Joffrey crept back into the castle, using the narrow handholds carved into the red stone to swiftly climb back up and slip through one of the narrow passages. He went through the tunnel, able to see all the dust and spiders in the dark despite his lack of a torch. When he opened the false door behind the tapestry in his room, nothing had been disturbed as he went through the motion of putting away his clothes, pulling on a nightshirt and then stowing his blade into his bedside table.
Then he went to bed and only dreamed of darkness.
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