Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

baurus note: this prologue was written almost 3 years ago, and the direction of this story (and thankfully my writing skills) have gone in different and, to my mind, better directions since then, directions that make shoehorning this prologue ahead a pain. As such, this prologue is NON-CANON to Purple Days, pending a rewrite. The themes visited here will be abundant in the chapters to come though, and the premise is still obviously the same.

Sandor "the hound" Clegane had the shittiest job in Kings Landing if you asked him. Watching the arrogant little shit tormenting his little brothers, acting like he was already the godsdamned king already and mewling back to his mother at the first sign of trouble. Not that he really minded, it was more of an annoyance for him. After all, his prospects serving the Lannisters were good, the killing was good, and one day the little shit would be King.

And, it wasn't as if this job didn't have its benefits. As Prince Joffrey's Sworn Shield, it was his duty to follow him everywhere, which had let him enjoy the sight of the little shit being chastised and punished for acting like an idiot. It had been yesterday, 3 days after Jon Arryn's death. Joffrey had refused to go to the North, shouting something about "Not wanting to even touch the northern savages", and things had only degenerated from there. Robert had been ready to strike the Prince, but a warning glare from Cercei had stopped him, instead throwing his cup of wine angrily to the floor and ordering Sandor to take Joffrey back to his room without supper. And so he had grabbed the little shit and dragged him back to his room, kicking and screaming at the "Injustice".

Maybe the prospect of him being King one day was not a good idea after all…

Sandor was about to continue with his internal ramblings, basking in the morning sunlight from the nearby window when a sudden, muffled scream reached him through the door… from prince Joffreys room. He was probably screaming in rage at someone or something yet again… though it was rare for him to do it in the morning… Sandor didn't even doubt for a moment his course of action, he was no Knight, no Lord, but he did still take his duty seriously.

He busted into the room, drawing his sword and looking for assassins when he spotted Joffrey on the floor, breathing heavily, clutching his throat while he vomited bile over the floor.

Must be poison, thought the hound, though it was strange, the prince had not eaten anything last night, and he had seen no servants going through the door. He quickly sheathed his sword as he helped Joffrey up, ready to take him to a Maester.

In retrospect, it was then when things really stopped making sense to the Hound.

"I'm okay Sandor, I'm okay" he said as he sat on his bed, taking deep breaths. The prince's face was filled with despair, anger, sadness, loss and self-loathing all in quick succession. He grabbed his head, and took one last deep breath. "You'd think I would get used to this by now… but it never gets any better" He snorted. "Not that I don't deserve it…"

The Hound's stared at him, confused. He never calls me Sandor, he thought. Whatever indigestion had the Prince in this state, he didn't want to touch it with a ten foot pole. Joffrey finally snapped out of his trance, letting his hands fall to his lap. "Clegane" He said as he nodded to him, "We've got work to do."

With that said, he quickly stepped to his wardrobe, impatiently searching between all the fine robes and princely attires, finally getting out what he wanted. It was a set of riding leathers, hardy and confortable, but without any of the jewels and lions the Prince always favored. Without even calling for his servants as was his want, he quickly dressed himself, and strolled outside, only barely pausing by his bed chest and taking his dagger. He doesn't even know how to use the godsdamned thing, thought the hound. Oblivious of his thoughts, Joffrey strapped the leather belt and sheath to his waist, quick as lightning and with no conscious thought, like a veteran.

"Come on Hound" he said, with none of the usual viscous pettiness he so constantly used when referring to lesser people (which in his mind was all of them but his mother) as he walked out into the hallway.

Suddenly left alone in the little shits room, Sandor quickly snapped out of his befuddlement and raced out, taking his place to Joffreys South-East. Watching the Prince was like watching another boy… no, another man. He walked erect, with a confident stride that spoke of victory, but also of the struggle and loss that accompanied it… It was no longer the arrogant strutting. Sandor didn't know how to put it exactly, but, in a word, the Prince had overnight, somehow become a man.

He strode briskly, like a man with a mission, briefly acknowledging the servants as he passed by them, full of trays of food or bundles of fresh clothes. Trays of food and bundles of clothes that barely managed not to hit the floor in a scandalous manner when the prince actually addressed the servants.

"Arrel, Darrik" Said Joffrey, giving the befuddled servants carrying a large bucket of water a nod and a small smile, he didn't even notice their confusion as he strode on, mind driven by some bizarre and obscure objective.

Strange Joffrey, as Sandor was calling him in his head, had a plan. That much the Hound knew. He briefly stopped at intersections of hallways in the Red Keep, looking at each hallway, thinking as if trying to remember something, then continuing on. "Darrin" He muttered distantly as he acknowledged the queens chamber boy, deep in thought at yet another intersection. The Hound quickly reached out and prevented the chamber boy from falling over from the shock and more than a little fear. Usually, when the prince acknowledged your existence it was not a good omen. That, the smallfolk servants of the red keep had agreed unanimously years ago.

Yet again, Joffrey didn't even seem to notice that anything regarding his actions was supremely uncommon, and Sandor didn't think this was all part of a deliberate cruel joke… the little shit didn't have the patience for it.

After a minute standing in the hallway, way longer than at the other intersections, Joffrey finally decided and headed West. "This one, I think" he muttered. What he found however, was clearly not part of "The Plan" (It had acquired Capital Letters in Sandors head after the fourth hallway.)

In front of Joffrey, was Princess Myrcella, eying him with a deep wariness and suspicion arising from years of torment. Joffrey didn't seem to notice though; he seemed to be shaking slightly. "Myrcella" he whispered, a strangled, sad sound that Sandor didn't think she heard. What happened next shocked the Hound again, even more so than all the other strange things happening today. Joffrey stepped forward and actually hugged Myrcella, clinging to her like a drowning sailor hugs some flotsam. Now, Sandor was no expert in family relations, he admitted that much to himself, but Joffrey seemed genuinely shaken and happy, maybe even joyful to see her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He said, his mumbling muffled by his sisters hair.

Myrcella however, didn't have Sandor's iron proof façade. She was pale and shacken, white as pigeon drops and stiff as a board. She was probably expecting the other shoe to drop now, so to speak. Joffrey at last seemed to realize what was going on, and haltingly, almost against his will, separated from her. He looked at her face, then looked back towards Sandor, and slowly shook his head, as if to clear it. "My pardon Sister, I confused you with someone else" he said, trying and failing to sound cruel and disdainful, pulling a sad facsimile of his usual cruel and arrogant smirk.

It didn't fool Sandor, and it seemed neither did Myrcella. For Sandor that weak acting only served to permanently seal the idea in his head that SOMETHING was definitely WRONG. He had to fight the urge to draw his sword, his danger sense screaming at him at the sheer uncanniness of it all.

The thing that stopped him for now was the Prince's eyes, full of loss and self-loathing. He quickly continued on down the hallway, frequently wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Sandor could see they were wet.

"We took a wrong turn Clegane, it was to the right" He said, more to himself than to the Hound as they reached another intersection and turned right this time. Sandor just followed him, mute and with his sword hand in the pommel. They finally stopped right besides the next intersection. Here, Joffrey peeked down the hallway, only to quickly retract his head and take a deep breath. It looked like he was psyching himself up for something. Finally, after about 4 minutes of this, he finally looked at the hound and looked at him in the eyes, "Clegane, whatever I say, don't do or say anything, understood?" He said it with such a force of will, as if he expected no other answer, that dumbly nodding was the only thing the Hound could do. "This is a terrifying glimpse of the king he could be" The hound thought to himself.

Then, Joffrey let out a long sight, and breathed for a final time. He then took off to the hallway, arrogantly strutting through it. Sandor followed him as he desperately tried to remember where they were on the Red Keep after all the turns. Almost as they reached the corner, Joffrey bumped with Lord Baelish. "Watch where you're going!!" he screeched, and then stopped when he saw who he was talking to. "Ah! Lord Baelish, I was looking for my uncle Renly but maybe I can trust you too" Joffrey said as he looked up at Baelish.

Baelish looked at Joffrey, a benevolent and curious smile adorning his face. "Trust me with what, my Prince?" he asked. "Arresting Varys of course! I want the traitorous bastard in the black cells now, he poisoned Lord Arryn!" he told him with his distinctly annoying twang, or at least tried too. It was a decent performance at non strange Joffrey, but he could see his heart was not in it. He gave the acting 6 out of 10.

Lord Baelish looked frozen for a brief moment, then he recovered and unleashed his signature smile. "Ah, an interesting theory my Prince, but we can't move against the Master of Whispers without evidence to back up your claim."

Joffrey looked between annoyed and doubtful, and he seemed to think for a bit before he said "I will trust you with this Baelish, but don't you dare betray me with this or I will have you executed." He said it not as a threat, but as a fact. He had started with the bluster but had naturally, towards the end become a simple statement of intent, something that apparently Joffrey didn't want as Baelish was suddenly looking a bit doubtful with this whole endeavor, inspecting Joffrey more seriously this time.

Strange Joffrey seemed to sense that Baelish was doubting his act with this faux pass, and quickly added "I have the evidence, and if you help me my Grandfather will shower you with gold" he said, reinforcing it with his nasal twang. It had looked a little forced, he didn't know if Baelish would buy it.

The naïve statement didn't seem to affect Lord Balish's chain of thought, though it did serve to relax him somewhat to the boy. "He's acting you idiot, he's planning something" The hound thought to himself, but didn't say anything. Baelish seemed to be struggling with himself, thinking about the possibilities and the outcomes and looking shrewdly at the Prince. Joffrey on the other hand looked totally like his usual self, looking back at the Mockingbird with a disdainful expression and a mounting incredulity that he wouldn't be obeyed.

Finally, it seemed the chance was too good for whatever schemes Baelish had planning, and finally nodded. "Can you show me the evidence? If its good we can get rid of Varys… permanently" Said Baelish, struggling to contain a predatory grin at the sudden opportunity.

Joffrey only seemed to think about it for a second before he nodded. "Where?" he simply asked. "I have a place where even Vary's Little Birds won't see us… there's a passage below the Royal library, past the cupboard that gives way to the red keep's southern cliff, we can meet there."

"Then do so" The Prince mewed more than commanded as he turned around and continued strutting down the hallway, Sandor in tow. He was liking this less and less…

It was a brief journey to the Library, where Joffrey seemed to take a random, blank scroll from Grand Maester Pycell unoccupied study. He rolled it up and proceeded all the way down towards a hidden passage below the library, just as Baelish had predicted. Strange Joffrey hadn't uttered a word to Clegane as he walked down the humid cave, towards the sound of the sea. He could already see the distant waves crashing downwards in a swirling vortex of fury. It was a long way down.

There, finally, he turned around to face Sandor. "Clegane, stay in the shadows and watch that Baelish doesn't bring any men. Unless he does, do nothing." He commanded. He mutely nodded again, despite his gut telling him to just get out of this.

So, as Sandor settled himself on the side of the cave, beneath its great shadows, Joffrey stood at the cliffs edge, watching the waves. When he heard footseps down the path, Joffrey turned around and sneered. "Baelish, what took you so long!" he mewled.

Lord Baelish smoothly reached him, offering his all-knowing smirk again. "I came as fast as I could after verifying the Eunuch's whereabaouts, my prince. It seems he has not fled the Red Keep yet" he told him. "Good" Said Joffrey as he gave him the blank scroll "Here's your evidence".

Baelish took another step forward so that he could read it with the light of the day that filtered through the cave's opening. He quickly lowered it however. "Whats --UGH" he grunted, as… Joffrey extracted the dagger he had stabbed in Lord Baelish's stomach. He barely had time to grunt again as a second after it had gone out, it came back in as Joffrey stabbed him again and again, each time with more fury and relish. "Fifty-fity Littlefucker, its always fifty fifty with you. Luckily, this time Fate has smiled upon me." He told him as he kept stabbing him in the gut again and again. Baelish seemed transfixed at what was happening. He opened his mouth to say something but found he couldn't. Hell, Sandor knew something shady was going to happen, but he hadn't been prepared for this. "You just can't seem to resist the temptation of your greatest rival in the game gone" Joffrey said as he cleaned his knife on Lord Baelish's thigh, who was now on his knees. "Goodby Petyr" Said Joffrey as he kicked him and sent him over the edge of the cliff, down towards the turbulent Narrow Sea.

Joffrey looked downward, making sure Baelish was dead, then, slowly, the fury and relish that had taken him as he stabbed Baelish time and again seemed to seep out of him. He looked at his hands, which weren't even trembling. He seemed to be eying them with a resigned disgust, and, Sandor suspected, a burst of self-loathing so hard he was surprised the Prince wasn't vomiting again.

He approached Sandor from the spot of the murder, sheathing his now clean dagger. "Its okay Clegane, he was the one who really poisoned Lord Arryn, or so involved in the plot it makes no difference. He was a wild dog--" he paused for a second "—no offence intended. And a danger to the Realm. We shall all be better for it" he said as he stepped ever closer to him.

Sandor kept his grip on the pommel. He couldn't care less about the "Littlefucker" as Strange Joffrey had called him. He was wary not because of his murder, but because it was now apparent that Joffrey was not the same person that had gone to sleep last night. And now, looking at his eyes, he thought the boy had aged a thousand years on his sleep.

If he was going to do anything about it, it would have to be now. He had just been witness to the murder of a Lord, and there was no telling what Strange Joffrey would do now. Sandor thought for a few moments, and Joffrey seemed content to let him.

Finally, he grunted. "You try any shite like that again without telling me first and I'll go straight to Robert, and screw all the gold in the Westerlands."

Joffrey seemed satisfied with that answer, and nodded as if he was expecting it. "Good, thank you Sandor." He said while he walked away, back towards the Red Keep.

The hound just shook his head. "Something tells me this is only the beginning".