"I am in hell" He muttered again, gazing at the face in the mirror. He still recalled it, vividly, a life of glory, of adventure, of combat, of war, of creeping into the dark places none dare look and escaping the fury of gods and otherwordly beings long forgotten by man and beast. The stygian wells of the basement of the elephants tower, the dreadful high walls of that villa whereupon he encountered the serpent like demi god of a dead people lazing in a bowl. Besting terrible flying apes in duels during mighty storms and wresting women free of the clutches of mighty serpents along the black coast. Nothing could have prepared him for the horror of this, face that was far too lionlike for a boy whose father was said to be a great giant of a man more inline with the Cimmerian features he knew.
Crom, you bastard God in your mountain hall who had gazed upon him and laughed "ah" he'd said, a voice breaking over the haze of death to shudder into the Cimmerian's being. A hall, so vast no mortal mountain could contain it, above it, a sky stretching outward to infinity, lit by the stars of a million, million different worlds as cold winds that seemed to blow from nowhere swept along desolated cold marble floors.
"I see in your eyes, King Conan, you thirst for more adventure? It is not uncommon, many a warrior who comes before me that dies abed looks upon me with the same eyes." The god, who appeared the size of a mountain himself, smiled an odd smile. "You shall have your wish, spread my name with thy deeds..Conan..A crown you earned in life and so a crown you shall be born too, but you will have to earn it I believe..yes..And one more thing..You will visit some revenge for me..for a great king far to the north of your new life...well..Let it not be said that you can knife Crom in the back and go unpunished"
A mighty hand picked him up, Conan remembered flying through the stars, through the myriad worlds only to land in this..effete form.
"I am in hell" he spoke again, in a murmur.
"Dear nephew, many a man in the seven kingdoms would kill to be gifted with the famed Lannister looks!" Ah, at last, the only company besides his "father's" hand that the king who was now prince thoroughly enjoyed. Though he was far less foolish than that Stark Lord. Ever since he'd insisted on accompanying Tyrion and Jon (another one he rather liked, even if the bastard shared in his father's idiocy), of his new companions his uncle the dwarf was the only one with the sense the gods gave them.
"Bah! To look a preening imbecile? There is more of a cheetah or a leopard to your father and brother than a lion!" Tyrion was already drinking and "Joffrey" grabbed the jug from his hand "Please, place my soul in your body, dwarf you may be but any man who confuses that for weakness deserves to be spit roasted for his folly"
"Or at the very least given a proper dose of my legendary wit!" the man asked, his eyes perceptive, Tyrion was dangerous in that he was certain the midget knew that he was not his nephew. Four years he'd been in his wretched body, at last now it was starting to build muscle.
"I spoke to your intended this morning! I think she's warming up to me" Tyrion let out a grin.
"Have her then" Conan shrugged, Sansa Stark had potential, but it was buried beneath her mother's sneering arrogance and her father's penchant for refusing to lurk in the shadows to hunt a greater predator. "They can betroth me to that Highgarden Wench"
Now there was a beauty and a predator, those who looked upon her and saw merely a smiling girl were great fools. Untamed was the brightest red rose of Highgarden and Conan enjoyed sparring with her almost as much as he enjoyed battling wits with her grandmother or crossing Blades with Wylas..or..Arya.
That tiny child was the only true wolf among them, swift, astute and utterly ruthless. "Somehow, I don't quite think our honorable Hand of the King would appreciate having his eldest daughter passed on to the runt of another's litter"
"Joffrey" laughed mightily. "By Crom Eddard is an imbecile, but I like him, he is a man who will challenge me and there are few enough of that"
"you mean after you disarmed Loras?" Tyrion queried with an amused grin. That had surprised everyone, everyone except Ned Stark and his youngest daughter any way. It had been during the melee at the hand's tourney, when Joffrey had battled through a dozen men to meet Ser Loras head on in a show of arms that dazzled many and annoyed others. The boy shrugged, taking another sip of wine "I care not for tourney fighters, unlike his brother that effete slob fights only for show. Damnable Father...not permitting me to ride against the mountain"
Ah, there it was again, the word father, uttered but not quite with the tone of a son. And the hatred for Ser Gregor, one night Tyrion had seen Joff drinking with the Hound and Jon Snow (the Prince had an ability to forge odd company, not unlike his "Father"). When Sandor had told the story, of what was done both to him and to his sister, Joff hadn't spoken to his mother since then and refused all letters sent by his grandfather.
There was a brooding contempt, of the sort only men who'd seen far more and lived far longer than his nephew had could muster. "He would have killed you" Tyrion remarked, in that honesty Joffrey had come to respect so much.
The boy shook his head, perhaps a year ago, but more of his Cimmerian heritage seemed to be seeping through the veil, as though Crom had intended for this to be a back handed compliment. His hair darkened slightly, his muscles grew and he noticed he was starting to recover as fast as he used too. And the muscle memory, returned, though he doubted he would ever gain his former face, much of what he was now crept back.
"No, savaged me yes, but killed me? Fah! He is not but madness and might" No, Conan thought, he'd killed brutes far stronger and far faster before. Ser Gregor was no different than those winged baboons conjured by Thoth-Amon, and though that battle was hard, it fell none the less.
"I'm sure a dozen knights have said as much"
Prince "Joffrey" chuckled, handing back the jar of wine. "Come, my father wishes to go hunting, I shall accompany him and you shall be my second"
"Ah yes, trudging through the kingswood, waddling beside you as your father drunkenly mules over the prospect of using me as bait..Though, I can't imagine I'd make much of a meal for anything, do boars even eat meat?"
"I've seen them eat their own children" Joffrey shrugged, he'd hunted enough in this and the other life to know a boar would eat a man if it could get away with it. "Is it not in your books? Go ask pig farmers, it is not uncommon for an elderly one among them to fall victim to his own swine should he chance to fall alone"
Tyrion quirked his head "And you know this from your extensive experience speaking to swine-herders?"
Clever Dwarf, Clever... "The city watch is filled with many a man..some of swine herd extract uncle" it was plausible enough excuse, several had and the prince often enjoyed spending time with them, even convincing the Hand to allow him (with Jory Cassel of course) to take command of the City Watch...Baelish hadn't liked that..But what that skulking serpent of a man liked or disliked, meant little and less to Conan. -ply me with females and try not to embezzle more than reasonable from my father's coffers and we shall remain friends- He warned the man last month.
"Besides, our idiot cousin with the king again and I mislike him"
"You mislike most Lannisters"
"Anyone with sense would mislike most Lannisters"
The pair laughed before departing the royal apartments.
This empire was both immense and badly governed..Conan who never much liked being King found in himself an odd fire, a desire to rule not for his own sake but to rid the land of Westeros and its benighted people of the vermin who plagued them.
Just like he felt all those years ago in Aquilonia.
