Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

The room was sealed, without the scorching sun, the warm air, or windows. There was only a hay mat and a person, a person who was almost dead.

The thorns of weeds filled his mouth, and the smell of blood filled his mouth and nose. He dared not cough. As long as his lips moved slightly, the intense pain would make him faint instantly.

But the nun didn't think so, and she stepped forward.

"No!" Joffrey shouted in his heart.

The nun pulled off the hay strips with thorns attached to the surface of Joffrey's mouth, and the severe pain spread from his mouth to his whole body, almost paralyzing him on the ground.

His tongue was like an external object that did not belong to his body, pressed against the ground that smelled of stinky water. This room was probably built next to the stinky ditch of the flea pit. There was a sticky unknown sticky block on the ground, and a disgusting smell entered Joffrey's mouth and nose.

"Tell the gods what you saw, smelled, and heard."

The crying voice came out of Joffrey's mouth, like the cry of a tortured cat.

Seeing that he hadn't spoken for a long time, the bramble "swish!" was thrown on his back.

"Ah!!!~"

Joffrey's eyes were filled with bloodshot, and his veins bulged in pain. "I saw it! I saw it!" He sobbed from time to time, and the heavy breathing echoed in the room.

The nun was silent and raised the bramble again.

"Don't hit me! Don't hit me! Don't hit me! I'm in so much pain, so much pain!" Joffrey also ignored the pain in his body and the burning pain in his back, and swung his limbs like a fish about to die of drought.

"I saw refugees trapped in hunger and thirst, I saw corpses lying in the stinking ditch and no one cared about them, and corpses taken away by wild dogs"

"I saw the sinful nobles playing in the Red Castle, extravagant and extravagant. There are also hypocritical monks in the church, with big bellies and holding Bibles"

"What else?" asked the nun.

"And, and, and." Joffrey's hands stroked the ground, rubbing back and forth, his brain desperately recalling, "I smell the smell of the dead, the smell of the stinking ditch, the disgusting rouge and powder on the merchants, and the shameless perfume of the nobles."

"What else?"

"And! And!" Joffrey held his head with both hands and screamed in pain, "Gods, I can't hear your voice, I want to pray, only pray"

The thorn came down again.

"Ahhh!" Joffrey blocked the blow with the palm of his right hand, and blood immediately appeared.

Joffrey knelt on the ground, stumbling step by step to the nun, hugging her legs, "I confess, I confess, I am not a good king, I can't I want to follow the archbishop, I want to follow the archbishop, I want to follow the archbishop, I want to"

The nun left, and the thorn was thrown on the ground.

The door "creaked" for a long time and half opened in front of him.

Joffrey raised his head, bloodshot was still in the whites of his eyes, and his eyes told of desire.

He stretched his neck desperately and sniffed wildly.

The smell of the stinking ditch became stronger, and he could even hear the splash of dead fish and rotten shrimp rolling in the ditch.

She didn't notice, Joffrey thought to himself, and the tremor of excitement immediately spread from his heart, spreading all over his body, shaking uncontrollably.

The initial excitement faded, and there was more fear in the involuntary tremor of his body, "The Stranger is waiting for me outside the door, I can't, I am a devout believer, where is the archbishop, where is the archbishop, come and save me. Come and save me. God bless me, God bless me."

He crawled on the ground, looking up at the half-open door, but never moved a step.

He held on for a night until he collapsed to the ground exhausted.

The door suddenly opened without a sound.

Joffrey squinted his eyes in exhaustion, and the High Sparrow stood at the door, looking at him kindly.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

In the eyes of the High Sparrow, he was like a docile sheep, sleeping without any defense.

The nun was behind him, bowing her head respectfully.

"Almost, the king I personally taught, the real king." The High Sparrow whispered, his words were full of excitement.

"If Sir Militang saw the king become like this, he would not agree with your approach." The nun said.

"It doesn't matter," said the High Sparrow, his clasped hands trembling slightly, "as long as the result is good."

"Assassins overseas"

"Our agreement is coming soon. When the long sword of the church is re-equipped, let him be dispatched by the people of Braavos. By then, our goal will be achieved." The High Sparrow smiled. He didn't know the purpose of the Faceless Man, nor did he know why he was willing to act as the king of Westeros with a face that needed to be soaked in water at any time to cover himself up. He didn't need to know too much information. He just knew that the church's armed forces and supreme glory would be created in his hands.

"Bathe the king and change his clothes, my dear Leah."

The nun bowed slightly and walked in.

When Joffrey opened his eyes again, the sun was behind his head, and the warmth spread all over his body, like a bed quilt that had not been touched for a long time.

He lowered his head, and was wearing the king's attire when he came. A dagger inlaid with seven-pointed gems was the first thing that caught his eye. The gold and silver robes were wrapped down to the knees. The Baratheon family emblem was on the seven-pointed star, which looked like a holy deer.

The High Sparrow took his hand, "The agreed time has come, Your Majesty, you should return to the Red Castle and preside over the fate of the Seven Kingdoms," he whispered, adding, "This is God's will."

Joffrey stared blankly in front of him. The nuns, the nuns who bullied him and whipped him with thorns, stood in front of him one by one, bowing their heads devoutly.

The knight, who had listened to his cries but ignored them, stood in front of him, like a guard, majestic.

Joffrey's eyes shifted, and his gaze stayed on the kind face of the High Sparrow. Seeing this face, he almost cried.

"Archbishop, I'm scared, I want to hug you, hug you"

The High Sparrow shook his head with relief, as if there was still some helplessness in his eyes. He opened his arms, "It's up to you, Your Majesty."

The kindness on his face remained, and he gently embraced Joffrey with both hands, like an old father encouraging his son with relief.

Pain, with sticky liquid, spread from the abdomen.

The High Sparrow frowned and lowered his head inexplicably.

The tip of the dagger inlaid with the seven-pointed star gem sank into his flesh, piercing the simple linen robe, and depicting a blooming red flower on his abdomen.

Blood, drop by drop, flowed down the white robe and legs.

The High Sparrow raised his head, as if the stranger had strangled him by the throat, and could only whimper, speechless.

Joffrey's pious expression slowly changed, and a smile appeared on his face, "You old thing, you old thing."

One knife, two knives, three knives, Joffrey kept pulling out, stabbing, pulling out, and stabbing again.

"You bastard, bastard, you deserve to eat dirt and drink stinky water! You old thing, you dare to hurt the king? You dare to torture the king? I am the king, I am the king!"

Joffrey whimpered in a low voice, like the roar of a beast in full beast.

"Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!"

He screamed wildly, the dagger almost slipped out of his hand, and completely pierced into the High Sparrow's body.

"Oh! No! Gods." The High Sparrow shrank up, bent over and fell to the ground, looking up and only heard Joffrey's loud shouting.

"I am the king!"

"Bishop!~"

The knights and nuns rushed forward.

Joffrey pulled out the dagger from the High Sparrow's abdomen and stabbed the nun named Leah.

The knight's sword and the nun's fingernails dug into the king's face, stripping off his robes and gorgeous clothes.

The Faceless Man hid in the corner, watching all this silently.

The king fell, the nun's body scattered on the ground, the High Sparrow opened its mouth and looked at the sky, as if expressing the unwillingness of being about to succeed but not ending.

The Faceless Man left quietly.

In the Red Castle of King's Landing, Margaery held a long spoon and shook the water in the basin.

A swollen face floated in it, and it was King Joffrey's face when he looked closely.

The curtains were suddenly blown by the wind, and the Faceless Man stood by the window.

Margaery put down the ladle and looked at the window, "You"

"Someone's mission has ended," the Faceless Man stared at the face in the basin, a poor quality face, "A poorly forged face can't beat the real face after all."

"What do you mean." Margaery looked at Joffrey's face in a trance, "Could it be..." She stared at the Faceless Man with wide eyes, shock written all over her face.

"Someone is very surprised," the Faceless Man said, "Someone just needs to continue to disguise and wait for news from Oldtown."