Chapter 3: Lord Snow
Joffrey gets up from his seat. His arm still stings like a b*tch thanks to the missing direwolf, and his pride is still hurting from his "father's" question of "You let a little girl disarm you.
He had even almost tripped on a rag on the floor when he was going to sit at the table. Fate has certainly not been on his side as of late. At least that butcher's boy has been hacked to pieces.
He continues to listen and respond to Cersei's advice. He abruptly gets up once she suggests that he do do something "nice for the Stark girl."
Why should he?! he thinks. But before he can say that the Northerners have too much power, he slips on the rag on the floor. He falls to the ground, smashing his head against the smooth floor.
After a few days of screaming and praying in his room, Cersei could only watch the healer fail and her son succumb to infection and brain loss. She would never know how much he hated the wailing of women.