Author's Note: I've been wanting to do time loops for a lot of characters. Jaime, Cersei, Robert, Ned, Jon, but in the end I knew that it would be the most fun by far to do it with Joffrey, if only because he'd get himself killed so much more often than the others.

~o0O0o~

Return of the King

King Joffrey Baratheon Time Loop

~o0O0o~

~o0O0o~

King Joffrey Baratheon opened his eyes with a strangled gasp, then immediately started choking on nothing but thin air. It took him a moment to stop wheezing and retching, but when he did he sat up and stumbled out of his feathered bed. He had been at a feast, his own wedding feast. And then his wretched uncle had poured him a cup of wine and then he was choking on it, drowning in his own blood.

Joffrey shot to his feet. He'd been poisoned! Where was that traitor uncle of his?! He'd execute him personally if mother hadn't beaten him to it!

Snarling fiercely to himself after he buckled on the sword propped up against the wall (never noticing that it wasn't Widow's Wail), he rushed out the room with a scream for the guards, only to stop short at the completely unfamiliar hallway. This was not the Red Keep, for the walls were an ugly dull grey instead of a proud rusty red. And the banners, they were not of the stag or the lion, but of the traitorous wolf.

Joffrey's eyes widened in terror. He'd been kidnapped! Spirited away from King's Landing and taken as a hostage by the Starks! So great was his mindless fear that when 'King' Joffrey ran, he never once saw the burnt visage of Sandor Clegane trailing after him.

~o0O0o~

Joffrey had never run so fast in his life. He had to get out of Winterfell and back to good Lannister men. What servants and men at arms he saw never stopped him or even got in his way, though they wore Stark colors. Fools, all of them. He would escape, and then one day come back with an army the likes of which the Seven Kingdoms had never seen, and then he would crush the North and anyone else who stood in his way.

He had almost made it out of the keep when he walked right into someone small. Joffrey stumbled, and was in the middle of ordering the fool's head to come off for his stupidity and incompetence when the words died in his throat as he realized that it was actually a girl. And then his blood froze in his veins when he realized who the girl was. She was more or less the same ugly she-wolf he'd known with her dark hair and Stark-grey eyes, although she looked younger and smaller than he remembered.

"Ow!" Arya Stark complained, gingerly rubbing her arm where Joffrey had ran into her, having the gall to glare at her rightful king! "Watch where you're going, stupid! That hurt!"

Righteous fury took hold of Joffrey as he'd recalled how the little bitch had hurt him, humiliated him in front of father at the Ruby Ford! For a brief moment he saw red, and there was a scream. And then his vision cleared, and he saw his hand holding a sword, and he saw that sword stabbing Arya Stark through the chest, pinning her to the wall behind her. Blood dribbled out of her mouth and flowed down her chest, soaking her clothes a dark red. Her grey eyes were sightless and unblinking in death. Her face was twisted with pain.

Justice was a beautiful thing.

He heard a curse behind him, and turned around to see the Hound staring at him with a look of utter disgust in his eyes. "You've done it now, boy," the man spat at him. "There will be hell to pay for this."

Why was the Hound here? He'd left King's Landing after the battle of Blackwater Bay, hadn't he? Then it hit him—Sandor Clegane was a turncloak. He'd been bought by the traitors!

Face rapidly paling, he turned to flee, only to see Robb Stark—risen from the dead—standing at the end of the hallway. His face was white as snow as he beheld his slain sister. His eyes were wide and unblinking. And his fists were clenched so tightly that Joffrey saw blood dripping through his fingers. It couldn't be. He couldn't be here. Robb Stark was supposed to be dead, mother said she's seen to it! Gibbering, Joffrey fell to his knees. "Don't kill me!" he wailed, tears streaming down his face.

That seemed to snap Robb out of his horrified state. With a roar, he rushed at Joffrey, drawing his sword in a single fluid motion. Clegane cursed and rushed forth to intercept, and the Young Wolf and the Hound began trading blows. Clegane held a clear advantage of strength, skill, and years of experience, but Robb Stark was in a rage. He parried blows he shouldn't have been able to stand against, his own return blows carrying a strength that should have been impossible. Even so, Clegane held his own and methodically began to force Robb back.

But there was one vital factor. Robb was not alone.

"Arya!" someone else shouted. Joffrey's eyes whipped up to see the Hound's head snap back, an arrow planted right between his eyes, and then like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his massive corpse collapsed to the stone floor with a massive crash of metal against stone, coming to rest in a bloody and graceless heap.

Theon Greyjoy sprinted forward, and without a moment's delay put three more arrows into the Hound's neck to make sure he stayed dead.

And then Robb and Theon turned and looked at Joffrey with nothing but murder in their eyes.

"No," Joffrey sobbed, scrambling backwards as fast as he could as the pair walked towards him. "Stay away! I command it!"

There was no trial, no offer of last words or last request, for Robb Stark was long past caring for such things. Hatred dominated his expression as he raised his sword. Joffrey had never seen anything so terrifying before.

"For Arya!" Robb roared, ruthlessly swinging the blade down without a hint of ceremony.

Joffrey's world went red and white with pain, then everything faded to black.

~o0O0o~

King Joffrey Baratheon opened his eyes with a strangled gasp, then immediately started choking on nothing but thin air.

Then a new torment made itself known—a line of fire tracing itself from his head down to his groin. Joffrey screamed at the pain, greater than anything he'd ever endured before. It was the agony of a man on the verge of death, but denied its sweet relief. It consumed him, devouring everything that he was until there was just pain and only pain. As abruptly as it arrived, the pain was gone, and Joffrey laid there desperately trying to catch his breath, his body soaked with sweat.

What happened? He remembered waking up in the Stark's lair, and then trying to escape. But he also remembered executing that Stark bitch, and Robb Stark fighting the Hound and... Joffrey reached up to touch his face, expecting a bloody ruin. His fingers met smooth and unbroken skin.

Joffrey's brows furrowed as his mouth opened in confusion.

They traced lower, down his neck, under his tunic and across his chest. Nothing. Not a trace of injury.

But how? He remembered being cut down.

Murdered, an unwelcome voice whispered. He shivered, and ignored that line of thought.

And when he'd woken up, he'd felt pain unlike any other! But now there was no sign of the injury that should have caused the pain in the first place. Had he somehow been shown mercy and been healed by dark magics of the Starks? The same magic that brought Robb Stark back from the grave? Were they just going to torture him over and over again?

He started when a voice spoke, and finally noticed burned face poked its way through the open door.

"Boy?"

Joffrey flinched at the sight of the Hound who he very clearly remembered being slain with an arrow through the forehead. They'd brought the Hound back, too? But he'd fought against the Starks. Why would they bring him back?

Isn't it obvious? For the same reason they brought you back, that same unwelcome voice whispered to him. To kill you both over and over again until the end of time.

~o0O0o~

He'd heard a scream and initially thought there was someone in there trying to hurt the prince, but after quickly going into the room he'd seen the boy just clutching at himself on the bed with his eyes screwed shut and tears streaming down his face. A nightmare? Must have been a nightmare straight from the seven hells to do that to him, cowardly prince or no.

After an appropriate amount of time when it looked like the prince had finally calmed down, he called out to him.

"Boy?" he ventured, slowly so as to not startle the boy even further. Most people called the child "your grace" or "my prince," but Sandor never did. Gods knew the little shit didn't deserve it, and no one knew that better than Sandor after watching him torment his brother and sister day after day, playing cruel jokes and making threats of what he'd do to them when he sat on the Iron Throne (and not even the Gods would help them when that day came).

He frowned at the crown prince's expression. The boy was a little shit and had no qualms about insulting him, but it wasn't like he hadn't seen his burned face before. Why did he look so fucking terrified? The only time he'd remembered being as scared as Joffrey looked was when his murderous bastard of a brother first held their helpless baby sister in his arms. Gods, he should have just run away with the poor girl when he'd had the chance, but now all he could do was avenge her.

Shaking his head free of dark thoughts, he looked to his young charge who was still staring at him in utter terror.

Joffrey flinched again, drawing in a deep breath with a gasp like he'd spent too much time underwater. Sandor only then realized that the boy hadn't been breathing while he stared at him. Why the hells hadn't he been breathing? The little shit wasn't suicidal as fas as he could tell, just a prick with a mean streak a mile wide. Joffrey got his breathing back under control under Sandor's watchful eye, then shakily got to his feet.

"Boy," Sandor repeated. "Are you well? Should I send for the maester?" So he call tell you what a little coward you are for getting so scared of a nightmare.

It was an unfair thought, but if anyone deserved it Joffrey did.

Joffrey's head snapped up. "The maester?" he squawked. "No, you fool! We must escape or they'll imprison us again!"

What in the Seven Hells is he talking about?

"Escape? Why?" He'd known the boy was a little shit who on the best of days could wipe his ass on his own without his mother's help, but he'd never known the prince was senile.

"Arg! You useless idiot! There's no time to explain, so just follow me!"

Joffrey took but a moment to buckle on his sword (which was useless since he was shit at using it) and sprinted out of the room as fast as he could, the Hound easily trotting after him, reasonably confident he'd be able to protect the little shit from his own stupidity.

~o0O0o~

Everything was exactly the same as Joffrey remembered it. The pale light of the northern moon, the confused glances of the servants they passed, the heraldry of the Starks of Winterfell adorning the dull grey walls. What he didn't understand was why the Starks hadn't bothered putting him and the Hound under guard. For that matter, why did they still have their swords? And why was the Hound wearing his armor. Joffrey wasn't complaining, but the foolishness of the traitorous house greatly confused him.

He rounded the corner, and was slowed down enough to stop himself from running into Arya Stark who was standing exactly where he'd killed her.

"You're the prince!" she exclaimed upon seeing him. "Are you exploring? Is that why you're wandering around?"

Joffrey looked upon the girl and paled in horror. Robb Stark, the Hound, Arya Stark (and him). All brought back from beyond the grave. What fell power did the Starks have doing their bidding?

Arya frowned at him. "Are you not feeling well? You look pale."

Joffrey didn't hear Sandor's snort behind him. He wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Only one thought was playing in his head again and again.

To kill you both over and over again until the end of time. To kill you both over and over again until the end of time. To kill you both over and over again until the end of time. To kill you both over and over again until the end of time.

Joffrey screamed at the unfairness of it all, and in a single motion he'd drawn his sword and swung wildly at the girl. Arya Stark had the barest of warnings when Joffrey screamed, but it was enough and somehow she avoided the blade. Joffrey swung again and again, but she was too nimble for him, and he was too clumsy, his sword too heavy.

"What are you doing?! Stop it!" she shrieked at him, dodging yet another one of his blows. With a flash of savage satisfaction, Joffrey realized the wolf-bitch was slowly being herded towards a corner. Soon she'd have nowhere to run, and Joffrey could end her miserable existence once and for all. He swung at her faster and faster, her panicked yelps as she desperately dodged music to his ears.

"Why. Won't. You. DIE?!" Joffrey yelled at her, bringing his sword up for a great two-handed blow, only to have the blade plucked from his grasp. He stared at his hands for a moment, wondering why they were empty, and then he rounded on the Hound who'd already thrown his blade off to the other end of the hall with a disjointed clang of steel against stone. The girl immediately took the opportunity to flee to safety down the hall, sobbing with terror at her unexpected brush with death.

"How dare you?!" Joffrey snarled at the Hound, his glare furious enough to set the man ablaze.

But then, the Hound did something Joffrey hadn't expected. He cuffed him on the back of the head, hard enough that he was sent tumbling down to the stone floor.

"How dare I?" the Hound snarled as Joffrey lay there mewling at the pain. "What the bloody hells were you thinking, boy? Tormenting your brother and sister is one thing, but you just tried to murder the daughter of a Lord Paramount! Did you think that would go unanswered?!" The Hound was bellowing at that point, his voice loud and deep and brimming with menace.

Joffrey mumbled something, and the Hound snarled at him, "What was that?"

"I am the King!" Joffrey said, louder this time. "I can do what I please!"

The Hound cuffed the boy again, sending him back to the ground squealing with pain. "You bloody well aren't the king, you miserable little shit. But gods help us all when that day comes."

"There they are!"

Joffrey and the Hound looked to the end of the hall where the voice had come from, and there they saw half-a-dozen armed Stark men, and behind them Arya Stark sobbing into the shoulder of Robb Stark who was carrying her. The heir of Winterfell was absolutely murderous. By his side, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow looked on with pure hatred in their eyes, hatred reserved solely for Joffrey.

"You tried to murder my sister," Robb said. His voice was dangerously calm, and his words caused the Stark men to tense with anger. "She did nothing to you, and you drew your blade and attacked her."

"I-I-" Joffrey couldn't even form words of his own, so utterly terrified at the appearance of Robb that his mind simply stopped working. And then he took off in the opposite direction, ignoring the wet warmth trailing down his leg. Not again, not like this! Not by his hand!

~o0O0o~

Joffrey ran and ran, and not very fast. The traitor's men blindsided him just as he made it into the courtyard, tackling him to the dirt like he was some common peasant.

"No!" he squealed, forcefully hauled up and dragged back into the castle. "No! You can't do this! You can't do this! I am the KING, and I'll have all your heads for this!" The men ignored him and his threats, steadily dragging him down the hall even as they passed a great many people who'd obviously just been woken, all of them staring. All of them doing nothing to help him. Traitors, all of them, Joffrey thought.I'll see them all—

"What's this, boy?" said a voice Joffrey remembered only in his dreams, a voice he'd never expected to hear again. The men dragging him had stopped and respectfully bowed their heads in its direction, and slowly Joffrey turned. It was a large man, fat to be sure, but with a frame that bespoke of a glorious prime.

"You're king, is it?!" Robert Baratheon's eyes were the purest blue and blazing with his fury. "So that gives you the right to break guest right and try to MURDER the daughter of a Lord Paramount! What else does the king want to do?! Start burning his subjects with WILDFIRE?! IS THAT THE TYPE OF KING YOU'LL BECOME, BOY?!" Robert's voice was loud enough that Joffrey could feel his very bones shaking, the voice of a man who'd once dominated the battlefield and taken his kingship by the sword.

"F-father?" he stammered, sinking to his knees. No no no! They'd brought father back as well?! Would they never let the dead rest in peace?! And what's more, they'd turned father's mind against him like the traitors they were! "Father, you don't understand!" he desperately tried to explain, hoping beyond hope that somehow he'd make the man see the truth. "The Starks are traitors! Eddard Stark tried to take my crown! Please, father!"

The world reeled around him and the floor rushed up to meet him, and Joffrey realized he'd been struck. Hard.

"You DARE accuse Ned of being a traitor you worthless little SHIT?!"

His ears were ringing, his vision suddenly blurry. He knew it should hurt, but right then he couldn't feel anything.

"What do you have to say for yourself, you mewling coward?!" Robert Baratheon struck him again, bowling him over just as he tried to stand. Blood sprayed inside his mouth as he felt his teeth loosen.

"P-please, father," Joffrey sobbed. "I've only ever wanted—"

He was struck again, and darkness crept at the edge of his vision. He wouldn't be able to stay awake for much longer.

"Robert, that is enough!" a woman shrieked. She sounded familiar. Why did she sound familiar? Joffrey couldn't remember. He couldn't think. Soft hands caressed his face, and he leaned into the familiar touch. "My son, my beautiful son," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her... son? Joffrey looked up, and froze when he saw his mother looking down at him. A chill crept up his spine. The Starks had his mother. They'd captured her and were holding her prisoner!

"Mother," he croaked. "I—"

"Shhh, shhhh," she hushed him. "You are injured, my little lion. Rest now." She cradled his head in her arms, and for the briefest of moments Joffrey was able to forget everything that had happened and simply feel safe. But like all good things, it could not last.

"Step aside, woman," Robert commanded, his voice hard and taut with anger. "You can't protect him from what he's done this time. I say again, stand aside!" He looked at Joffrey with such disgust that he would have been hurt had he not known his father was under the Stark's control.

Cersei spoke then, her voice dripping with scorn. "I will not. How dare you, Robert? Joffrey is our firstborn, the Crown Prince! Is the word of a some girl who's practically half-wildling worth more than his? How do we know she isn't just making the whole thing up and lying to us all?"

Robert stopped in his tracks and looked at his queen with a dumbfounded expression, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Cersei continued fearlessly. "That little bitch probably just wanted the attention, so she went around crying and telling everyone this ridiculous story."

It wasn't true, Joffrey knew it wasn't true, but he remembered what mother had once told him long ago, after the Ruby ford where the Stark bitch had first defied him. Someday, you'll sit on the throne and the truth will be what you make it.

"Your Grace," interrupted another voice just as the king and queen were about to start screaming at each other again. Everyone turned to see Eddard Stark (yet another man back from beyond the grave) with his eyes cold and his expression hard as stone as he glared at Joffrey and Cersei. "My daughter would never lie about such a thing, your grace. None of my children would."

"Yes she would!" Joffrey snarled at him, doing his best to look affronted. "She's always hated me and wanted me dead!"

"Prince Joffrey," Eddard Stark began, speaking tersely in his anger, "She's known you for less than a day, and in that amount of time you broke guest right and tried to murder her." Eddard Stark's grey eyes were like a storm of anger, matched only by the fury in his own father's eyes.

"She's lying!" Joffrey protested. He would escape this wretched castle in this gods forsaken land, and then he would punish all of these deathless traitors and burn them so they could never come back! But for now he was at their mercy and needed to be careful.

His ambitions were for naught, however, because the Hound practically stabbed him in the back with his next words. "The girl wasn't lying," he sneered at Joffrey, spitting of to the side in response to his dumbfounded expression at his sworn shield's treachery. "I was there, and high and mighty Prince Joffrey would have succeeded in killing the girl if I hadn't stopped him. He was not provoked, she'd done nothing to him, and he still tried to kill her."

There was absolute silence for a moment as everyone processed the damning testimony.

Then the room erupted as everyone started shouting all at once, and Joffrey flinched back with a terrified mewl as his father launched himself at him with a roar, shoving his mother aside and sending her sprawling across the floor. The first punch made Joffrey see stars, and the second made his pain mercifully vanish. The third made half his vision go dark. The fourth blinded him.

~o0O0o~

King Joffrey Baratheon opened his eyes with a strangled gasp, then immediately started choking on nothing but thin air.

~o0O0o~

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Author's Note: So at this point we've been through two loops. In the first one, Joffrey thought he'd been captured and acted accordingly. In the second loop, he thought the Starks had been bringing people back from beyond the grave with dark magics. Keep in mind that he's only been in these loops for less than two hours total. And this is Joffrey we're talking about. He isn't smart enough to realize he's in a time loop in that amount of time. Regardless, he'll start to take a hint by the time of the third loop.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this! I certainly enjoyed writing it. :D