Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

Joffrey scowled as he slumped back in his chair, tossing his cutlery over the plate. "I don't want to!" he spat, gazing defiantly at Robert.

"Eat, boy. Gods knows you need it… you have your mother's frame instead of a proper Baratheon's, and it will only get worse if you don't eat your damned food!" said Robert, his irritation ebbing as he eyed the servant lady that was pouring Cercei wine. Joffrey's mother, however, was not blind to the eye play.

"You are dismissed" she said, voice cold as her eyes registering every single detail about her face. The Hound knew, from experience, that that particular serving wench would not be employed in the Red Keep come morning.

The Hound sighted quietly, receiving an amused look from Ser Barristan, standing behind Robert with his back almost touching the wall. This is what I have to deal with every single day… his expression seemed to say. A half pitying smirk appeared half a second later.

And you will, too, it seemed to add.

Before he could contemplate the sanity breaking immensity of that thought, Sandor Clegane did what he always did in such situations. The Hound didn't have an active imagination, but he'd always have a knack for visualizing Gregor's head on a spike. He'd found himself doing that more and more often as the weight of guarding the little shit for a bit over a year got worse and worse. He sometimes thought the boredom and the pettiness would kill him… he shuddered to think about doing it his whole life.

Bloody Kingsguard, mad, the lot of them, he thought. Though at least the family seldom eats together anymore…

He shouldn't even be here, if any assassin could manage to get past all the guards in the Red Keep, Ser Barristan, an irate King Robert wielding his big fat chair like a warhammer and, most importantly of all, Queen Cercei and her claws… then he didn't know what a humble dog could do about it. He half suspected the only reason Robert had acquiesced to the whole 'Sworn Shield' shtick was because he hoped it would somehow make the little shit…

Somewhat more Kingly? The sheer thought of it threated to make him laugh out loud.

He was abruptly wrenched out of his reverie when Joffrey tossed his food aside, the silver plate clanking over the floor, "I said no!!!" he screamed at the serving maid as she bowed repeatedly while stumbling back, giving all manner of excuses while Robert slammed his fist on the table.

"Is this about the North again?!" he all but growled, bits of pork flying from his mouth. Tommen and Myrcella were trying to make themselves as tiny as possible, squirming slightly against their seats. Even Cercei looked restrained, one did not wantonly poke at the King two days after his father-in-all-but-name's death.

The little shit, of course, was all too riled up to pick up the implicit threat behind that statement. "I don't understand why we have to travel through half of Westeros just to visit some stupid wolf lord! If you want to see him then you should make him come!" he shouted, raising his hands and letting them fall to the table, looking scandalized and barely bewildered.

"If any man in these wretched Kingdoms deserves respect, it's Lord Eddard Stark, and you will address him as such" Robert growled threateningly, leaning slightly towards Joffrey.

Joffrey seemed oblivious, looking back at one of the servants standing with their backs to the walls of the slightly-too-big dining hall. "You, get me another serving" he mewled before turning back to Robert. "I just don't understand" he continued as if Robert had not spoken, "Why we have to bend to the whims of a bunch of northern savages! I don't even want to touch--"

Robert exploded, "YOU DARE?!" he snarled as he stood up while throwing is wine cup to the floor in rage, his face flushed with anger as his enormous chair fell back and he made as if to take a step towards Joffrey. Sandor swallowed as he saw, just for a second, the shadow of the man that had caved in Rhaegar's chest in the Trident.

"Robert" warned the Queen, glaring at him. Robert turned back to her, matching her stare for a few seconds before he seemed to deflate entirely, returning to the legend's husk he had become.

He scowled as he walked away from the table, "Take him to his room, Clegane. See to it that no one else enters. He's not hungry" he spat the last with disdain. It had no real viciousness to it, however, merely weariness… and well-worn disappointment.

"Aye Your Grace" Sandor said as he walked towards the little shit. The Prince was frozen in his seat, trying to look as if he hadn't been about to shit himself. "Let's go, Prince Joffrey" the Hound said. I'm going to enjoy this, he thought.

"W-w-what?! B-but I haven't eaten yet! I—Mother!" he pleaded, as if vaguely perplexed at the turn of events.

Cercei was still staring at Robert's back as he left the dining hall. When she turned her head to Joffrey however, her venomous expression turned gentle, "Tomorrow we'll have a splendid breakfast my son, one fit for a prince…" she appeased him, "Now do as your father says" she added, smiling slightly as she remembered something and stood up. The nannies were already taking Tommen and Myrcella back to their rooms, to their silent (if evident) relief.

Sandor escorted the blond prince out of the dining hall while the Cercei left through another door, a slight spring to her step. Joffrey walked sullenly, his face vaguely red as he muttered under his breath.

Soon though he started strutting like a peacock with something to prove, his expression growing more rebellious the closer they got to his room. The Hound eyed him warily as they approached one of the side passages that connected the kitchens. Joffrey seemed to slow as they approached it, looking around with a vaguely scared expression, as if Robert was about to swoop in from the ceiling and spank him. "W-wait for me here, Hound" he finally ordered when he found his courage, walking towards it.

If Robert finds out, he'll have my ass. Sandor thought as he shook his head. "The King was clear, Prince Joffrey" he said, trying to sound courteous as he walked in front of him, blocking his way.

"I said wait here, dog!" Joffrey snarled angrily, trying to move past him.

Courteous never worked before anyway, the Hound thought as the corner of his mouth tilted slightly. This is going to be fun.

"What are you doing you stupid dog!?" mewled the little shit as Sandor grabbed his arm and started dragging him to his quarters, "Can't disobey the King, I'm afraid" He said as he dragged him past a couple of scrambling servants.

"B-But I'm the prince!!!" He shouted, perplexed. His confusion quickly gave way to anger though. "Release me NOW!!!" he screamed in rage, though the only effect it had on the Hound was for him to scrounge his eyes at the uncomfortably high pitch of it. Joffrey's attempts to get out of his grip were as light as the wind, and Sandor soon filtered out the progressively incoherent rant, dragging him all the way to his room. Joffrey's gold and silver clothes had gotten dirty and somewhat mangled in his attempts to escape from his iron grip, something that gave him quite a bit of satisfaction. After all the months watching the little shit prance around in the fine embroidery even when doing the more mundane of chores… well, he wasn't getting any sympathy from him.

"C-Clegane, I- I will--" He pleaded as if on the verge of tears. The Hound was thoroughly unmoved as he practically shoved him to the bed, looking around for any hidden threats out of habit. He walked out after finding none, as always. "Just sleep it off, the Queen will pamper you tomorrow" he called out as he turned to close the door. If the little shit was like this now… he couldn't imagine how he would be while on the road to Winterfell. A thought best left well enough alone.

"Hound! Please-!" He shouted as moved towards the door, just as Clegane shut it in his face.

The little shit ranted and raved inside his room for a good ten minutes before the tantrum finally, finally ended.

He nodded to himself as he heard him snore, walking to his small room nearby. He had a feeling he was going to need all the rest he could get… tomorrow was going to be a long day.

-.PD.-

The Hound stifled a yawn as he moved towards the window beside Joffrey's door, quietly basking in the sunlight. He thought about the events of the other day as he rubbed his arms (as much as he could with the half plate anyway), trying to ward off the cold. He didn't think Joffrey would have another tantrum… heck, the Hound wasn't sure if he'd even remember him in his mad dash towards the kitchens. He flexed his shoulder a bit, trying to shake off the pervasive cold very much at odds with a summer at King's Landing. The little shit would hopefully grow out of it anyway… or at least that's what Robert probably hoped… The Hound knew better of course, from bitter experience with his own family.

"What the…" he muttered as he saw his breath condense right in front of his eyes, the chill making his hands shake slightly. His feet were starting to get slightly numb in spite of standing under the full brunt of the summer-morning sun shining through the window. He turned around when he heard the door to Joffrey's room rattle, again and again, each time harder.

The hair at the back of his neck stood on edge as he dashed to the door, some arcane instinct blaring inside his head as he swung it wide open. He stumbled back as he was blasted by an enormous backdraft of ice cold air, instantly chilling him to the bone and making him shiver wildly.

Ice seemed to coat every surface of Joffrey's room from what he could see, cracking clothes and wood… even the very water inside the tumbling cup in the floor was frozen. All of that was dismissed from the Hound's mind when he saw Joffrey, however.

He was a shivering wreck, his skin completely pale, his extremities quickly turning purple as he stumbled almost blindly, his eyes barely open. He gave another half-step before leaning on the door's frame heavily, one shaking hand holding his ridiculous golden hilted dagger tightly, as if ready to kill someone at a moment's notice. Despite being near death, the boy was standing erect, almost defiantly, proudly fearless as he swayed a bit.

"Yīgè měihǎo… de yītiān qù sǐ…" He mumbled incoherently, blinking heavily with a slight smile. Clegane doubted he even knew where he was.

He was shaken out of his stupor when the dagger clanked on the floor, shattering as Joffrey fell on his knees, mumbling incoherently again with the same serene, wistful smile. "Prince Joffrey!!!" shouted the Hound as he lifted him up, dragging him away from the door. He could already see some of the ice inside beginning to melt, but the cold would take too long to dissipate for Joffrey. He dragged him to a guest room close by, hollering at nearby servants. "You! Go get the Grand Maester!!! And you, get a fire started, now!" he roared, pointing at the room's hearth. The servants scrambled as the Hound dragged an unresisting Joffrey to the window, letting the sun warm him up as he ripped the Prince's frozen night clothes and the servant nearby started piling logs in the hearth. "Get me some blankets, move damn you!" he roared at them as Joffrey's breathing kept getting shallower and shallower.

He blinked heavily, his eyes searching. "S… Sa… Sandor..?" he muttered, confused as his blinking kept getting heavier. "Prince Joffrey! Look at me!" Clegane shouted at him, shaking him slightly as his eyelids kept drooping downwards.

The Prince had few words to say when his tired eyes finally found his. "Imhr… I'm… sorry…" he slurred, his eyes closing completely.

-.PD.-