Tommen heard a voice.
Not voices.
Just one.
Sometimes he talked to it, though it did not always answer.
As time passed, Tommen began to think of it as his friend.
The voice had never told him its name, but it helped him often.
Whenever the maesters gave him lessons, it would occasionally whisper the answers and even explain them.
When he was alone, it played with Tommen.
When his brother was cruel to him, the voice encouraged him. Sometimes it told him to fight back, but Tommen never could. Eventually, it began helping him escape instead, showing him hidden paths and quiet places to hide.
"I only remember what you've already seen. You've simply forgotten," it would say.
After one occasion when his uncle Tyrion noticed Tommen talking to it, the voice suggested they stop speaking around other people.
"They'll think we're mad."
As time went on, their relationship changed.
It became a strange friendship between a boy who could easily be called insane and the voice inside his head.
They became friends.
Something close to brothers.
It was peaceful.
Until that day.
...
The smell came first.
Iron.
Blood.
Warm.
Tommen couldn't understand why his hands were trembling so badly.
The cat had been opened.
Split apart.
Like a fish at the market.
Tiny crimson shapes glistened atop the golden silk sheets, and something impossibly small hung from the torn belly.
The kittens.
Bile rose into Tommen's throat.
"I wanted to see the kittens. They were taking too long," Joffrey said. "Father is going to love this gift."
He was smiling.
Smiling.
The older prince held the small dagger, still wet with blood, while two guards stood near the doorway in uncomfortable silence. Neither dared say a word.
No one ever said anything when Joffrey did things like this.
The cat was still moving.
Gods.
She was still alive.
A weak, broken sound escaped her throat.
Tommen dropped to his knees beside the bed.
"P-please..."
His voice came out small.
Weak.
Joffrey rolled his eyes.
"Stop whimpering already."
Tommen reached toward the cat, but his hands shook too violently. Blood stained his fingers.
Warm.
Too warm.
He couldn't breathe.
Something was wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
WRONG.
And then—
"Get up."
The voice hadn't come from the room.
Tommen froze.
His heart lurched.
"What...?"
'GET UP.'
The voice came from inside him.
Male.
Cold.
It didn't sound like a thought.
It sounded like someone else.
Joffrey kicked the she-cat's body off the bed.
Tommen heard a soft crack.
Something inside him broke with it.
"You're so annoying. It's only a cat."
Only a cat.
Only a cat.
Only a—
Tommen rose abruptly.
His legs were still trembling.
Joffrey raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Going to cry standing up now?"
The fear came at once.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Tommen knew that fear.
Joffrey shouting.
Joffrey hitting.
Joffrey laughing.
He wanted to step back.
He wanted to apologize, even though none of it was his fault.
He wanted it all to end.
Then the voice returned.
Stronger.
"He killed her."
The words echoed through his mind.
"Do something if you want to stop him."
'I can't,' Tommen thought desperately.
The world wavered.
For a heartbeat, everything drifted away.
It was like falling asleep.
The room.
The blood.
His breathing.
Tommen felt himself sinking into dark water.
And something else rose in his place.
Joffrey noticed the change first.
Because Tommen lifted his head.
And looked at him.
Not like a frightened child.
Like someone consumed by fury.
Joffrey's smile faltered.
"What's with that look?"
Tommen lunged.
Awkward.
Small.
Without any skill.
But fast.
Joffrey let out a startled yelp as Tommen slammed him against the bedside table.
"You little brat—!"
The kick came hard.
Straight into his stomach.
The air burst from Tommen's lungs.
Pain exploded through his body.
He collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Deep inside, the original Tommen screamed in panic.
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
"He's going to kill us!"
But another emotion burned hotter than fear.
Rage.
A monstrous rage.
The dagger lay beside the bed.
Bloodstained.
The very same dagger.
Tommen's hand closed around the hilt.
Joffrey went pale.
"You wouldn't dare."
Perhaps the real Tommen wouldn't.
But this thing would.
Tommen charged again.
Joffrey stumbled backward just as the blade sliced through the sleeve of his crimson tunic.
Even so, the prince screamed.
A high-pitched scream.
Frightened.
Real.
"MOTHER!"
The guards finally moved.
Too late.
Joffrey was already running from the room, nearly in tears, clutching his arm as though he had been mortally wounded.
Footsteps thundered through the corridor.
Shouts.
Guards.
Servants.
Then she entered.
The queen.
Cersei Lannister swept into the chamber like a storm of green and gold, with Joffrey clinging to her skirts, tears streaming down his face.
"HE ATTACKED ME!"
Behind her came King Robert, Jon Arryn, and half a dozen guards.
Robert stopped cold as he took in the room.
The dead cat.
The blood.
The kittens.
The drunken haze slowly vanished from his face.
"What in seven hells is this?" Robert demanded.
Tommen remained frozen.
Breathing hard.
The dagger trembling in his hand.
Silence.
Then the world rushed back all at once.
Fear crashed over Tommen like an avalanche.
He stared at his blood-covered hands as his legs threatened to give way.
'I didn't... I didn't do this—'
Joffrey immediately pointed at Tommen.
"He tried to kill me!"
"Liar!" Tommen shouted before he even realized it.
The voice that came out sounded different.
Stronger.
Cersei slowly turned toward her younger son.
Her eyes narrowed.
Something had caught her attention.
Something subtle.
Something wrong.
Robert walked over to the dead she-cat.
His face darkened.
"Joffrey..." he said dangerously. "What did you do?"
For a moment, the prince hesitated.
Then he quickly lifted his chin and pointed toward the tiny bloodied bodies on the floor.
"I wanted to show you the kittens, Father."
Silence.
"The kittens?" Robert repeated.
"The little ones," Joffrey corrected hastily. "I thought you'd like to see them."
Even the guards looked uncomfortable.
Robert stared at the torn-open cat.
Then at the dagger.
Then at his son.
And exploded.
"You little monster!"
Robert struck him so hard the crack echoed through the chamber.
"The boy cut open a pregnant cat!" Robert roared. "What kind of creature does that?"
"He's only a child! Our son!" Cersei shot back.
"And so is that one!" Robert barked, pointing at Tommen.
Silence fell.
Tommen's heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
Cersei looked at him.
Cold.
Furious.
That look said one thing.
Disobedient.
But it carried something else as well.
Unease.
As though she no longer recognized the boy standing before her.
Jon Arryn let out a weary sigh.
"Perhaps we should end this here before half the Red Keep starts spreading rumors."
Robert grunted.
"The boy acted in self-defense."
Joffrey looked outraged.
"HE ATTACKED ME!"
"And he should have done worse."
Enraged, Cersei rose and faced her husband.
"If you ever raise your hand against him again..."
Her emerald eyes locked onto Robert's.
"You'd best be careful when you go to sleep. You may not wake again."
Robert merely snorted.
Then he turned his back and walked away.
Still seething.
But as he passed Tommen, his eyes lingered on the boy for the briefest moment.
There was something in them.
Something rare.
Pride.
Small.
Rough.
Almost unwilling.
Yet unmistakably there.
Tommen felt it.
Their footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
Cersei remained for a few moments longer.
Watching.
The queen slowly approached her younger son.
Very slowly.
Tommen wanted to step back.
He wanted to run.
But his body refused to move.
Cersei's cold fingers lifted his chin.
"What happened to you?"
Tommen said nothing.
Because he didn't know.
The queen released him abruptly and walked away without another word.
When the door finally closed...
Silence returned.
Long.
Heavy.
Tommen sank to the floor.
His hands were still trembling.
"Who are you?"
The voice took several moments to answer.
"I... don't know."
And for the first time since awakening in that strange world...
the other presence sounded just as frightened as he was.